Let me ask you a question: If someone is vying for your spot on a team and just so happens to injure you during practice, would you believe it was on purpose? Word around campus is...it was no accident. That injury has cost me everything - my starting position, my junior year, and the draft. Now, I’m a senior fresh off recovery, struggling to find my groove, until the day I run into a nervous, fidgety girl with freckles in the dining hall.

Want to know a secret? It's about that girl over there. Don’t look, but she’s the one in the power suit with the long, black hair and the serious expression. The one I’m about to go on a date with. Yeah, according to her, she “accidentally” donated an obscene amount of money to my charity - The Lineup - to win said date, but I found out the truth.

I got the dreaded phone call, the one every baseball player hopes and prays never comes. I was traded - yeah, that phone call - traded from my longtime team of over 10 years to not just any team...to my childhood rivals, the Chicago Rebels. I was completely and utterly screwed, right? Wrong. The trade was the least of my concerns. I met a girl, Natalie. She was perfect, but I swore I would never get involved with anyone during the season. It was too complicated. But can you believe I had zero restraint when it came to this girl?

It started with one night out with the boys. She was the hot diner waitress putting herself through school. I was the rich, arrogant player everyone misjudges. On paper, we didn’t match. Yet all it took was one day. One single day to change her mind. She wasn’t planning to spend her day off with me. She wasn’t supposed to fall for my charm. But one day, one smile, turned into several nights of her calling out my name. I’m not the guy she should end up with. I’m jealous, possessive. Not here for a long time - just a good time. She’s changed me.

As the most hated player in baseball, I had two options: either clean up my image, or pack my bags. Being traded wasn't an option which only meant one thing, I had to become compliant. That's how I found myself sharing a small bistro table with Kate Chapman, the Chicago Bobbies newest PR Manager. Devastatingly beautiful, vastly intelligent, and incredibly cunning, she knows exactly how to handle my grumpy demeanor. It was supposed to be simple. Book some PR events, show up, smile for the camera, and be done. But one massive mistake on my end sends me into the trenches with Kate.

I’ve recently become the pawn of a meddling mom. Yes...a meddling mom - who's been trying to set me up all summer. Now, I understand it’s not a crime for a mother to want her child to fall in love, but when she makes it her relentless mission, the heinous act should be classified as a misdemeanor at least. Of course, my mom, the evil matriarch in the devil’s leggings, made her final stab at finding a girl for me days before I went back to college.

After failing my last semester of grad school, I decided to come back to my hometown and wallow in my boyfriend’s sympathetic arms. Instead, he proceeded to dump me...for being boring! Now, I'm not typically a spiteful person, but there's only so much I can take. Hence why I’m holding the box of his most cherished possessions...stolen possessions no less!

Five hockey players, a cabin in the woods...and little old me, Winnie Berlin. Sounds like the start of a fantasy, right? But it's not. It's my reality. It all started when I got lost in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. A wicked thunderstorm sent my car mud sliding into a ditch, and for a girl whose survival skills involve finding the nearest Starbucks, I was in deep trouble. Forced to abandon my car in search of help, I stumbled upon a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

With wedding planning underway and a short timeline, my best friend, Lia, has recruited me to help her battle the snarly beast that is Mrs. Beaver. Not scared at all, I accept the challenge as her man-in-waiting--aka, man of honor--and take matters into my own hands. The only problem is, with every second we draw closer to the wedding, I'm starting to see my best girl in a different light. She's always been beautiful to me, but now . . . I find myself staring a touch too long. My hand lingering for one more minute. And when she's upset? Allowing her to sleep in my bed.

Am I friends with JP Cane? Ha! That's laughable. Besides the fact that he’s adopted some far-fetched notion from the movie When Harry Met Sally that says men and women can't be friends and work together, it’s safe to say we're not friends. He's annoyingly loud, obnoxiously handsome, and has made an art out of poking all my hot buttons...multiple times a day. So you can imagine how disgruntled I am when I not only have to fly to San Francisco with him for work, but stay in the same penthouse. Yup, we're sharing the same air, 24-7. We're talking full-fledged working roommates.

A forbidden romance with my brother’s hockey teammate wasn’t on my to-do list when I moved across the country… Neither was getting locked out of a friend’s place wearing next to nothing. Or spending the night with the sexy stranger who rescues me. But I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone so getting out of the rest of my clothes with him seems like a good way to start. In the morning, I learn the filthy-mouthed man with the talented hands is not only the hotshot new hockey player on my brother’s team: he’s also–wait for it–my brand new roommate.

This isn’t a story about a love triangle. There is no triangle involved. This isn’t a story about an accidental pregnancy. Although having a baby with her...I would. This isn’t a story about lies and deception, even though at times I’ve lied to myself. No, this is my story. A story about sacrifice. A story about a man who fell in love with the wrong girl. A story I wish I never had to tell. I learned a long damn time ago, the only way to achieve my dreams was to avoid distractions - at any cost.

The quintessential question asked to every couple. And the answer is usually some bubbly, lovey dovey tale of being struck in the bum by Cupid’s arrow. My meet cute (well, not so meet cute) is slightly different. I was trolling a wealthy neighborhood in Beverly Hills, searching for someone to take me as their bride, you know, to make my arch nemesis jealous who consequently just fired me.

When I discover my boyfriend is cheating on me, I move out right away taking what I love most – my dog. As I fly out the door, I make sure to swipe the thing my ex loves best–the VIP tickets he won to a hockey game, complete with the chance to spend an evening with the city’s two biggest NHL stars. I can’t wait to snap selfies with my ex’s idols and rub it in his face.

Tristan Stiles is the bane of my existence. He never wears a shirt. We can’t seem to stop fighting. He’s an arrogant playboy with a filthy reputation. Sure, I had a crush on him when I was fourteen but that was a long time ago. I know better than to trust him. I just need to survive long enough to find a new job and get a new place. And not accidentally let Tristan show me exactly how well-deserved his reputation is.