Rule number one for becoming an NHL team’s social media manager: Don’t hook up with the star center in an elevator a week before starting your new job.

Zanders: Chicago hockey isn't complete without me—everyone's favorite player to hate. I know my role, and I play it well. In fact, I thoroughly enjoy spending the majority of my game time in the penalty box before leaving the arena with a new girl on my arm each night. What I don't like is the new flight attendant on our team's private plane. She works for me, not the other way around. But I'll be sure to remind her of that, and I can guarantee, by the end of the season, she'll be begging to quit her job.

Everyone says opposites attract. And they must be right, because there’s no logical reason why I’m so drawn to Colin Fitzgerald. I don’t usually go for tattoo-covered, video-gaming, hockey-playing nerd-jocks who think I’m flighty and superficial. His narrow view of me is the first strike against him. It doesn’t help that he’s buddy-buddy with my brother. And that his best friend has a crush on me. And that I just moved in with them. Oh, did I not mention we’re roommates?

Football is my everything. I live, eat, breathe the sport. But when I transfer to McKee University to escape the distractions that nearly cost me my future in the NFL, I’m faced with another consequence: retake and pass the writing class I failed at my last college, or lose any chance I have at making it big. That’s where fellow senior Beckett Wood—gorgeous, stubborn, and just my type—comes in. She’s the key to my success in this class… but the price of her help is a fake relationship, and I never do things halfway.

After my ex crushed my dreams in the music industry, I’m done with getting my heart broken. Working as an assistant for an NHL player was supposed to be a breeze, but nothing about Jamie Streicher is easy. He’s an intimidatingly hot, grouchy jerk who can't stand me. The guy has a massive ego. Keeping things professional will be no problem, even when he demands I move in with him.

Nash Richards was my first everything. First boyfriend, first time, first love. First heartbreak, too. In a former life, I used to religiously attend Lakeside U's hockey games. Then my ex-who-shall-not-be-named—the team's top defensive enforcer—cross-checked my heart into the boards, and I haven't set foot in that arena since. But when fate conspires against me, I'm assigned to complete my senior athletic training internship with Nash's team, and forced to work closely with the only guy I've ever loved. You know, the one who skated out of my life without looking back.

After being dumped on her 21st birthday, Bailey James rebounds right into the arms of her ex’s biggest competition... Chase Carter: antagonizer, womanizer, and infamous left winger for her college’s rival team. Following a string of scandals and substandard grades, Chase is on thin ice with his teammates and tyrannical coach. The last thing he needs is to have his focus and loyalty called into question by fraternizing with his team’s #1 competition, but a beautiful stranger who throws herself at him one night is too tempting to pass up...until she throws up on his shoes.

I have a type. I love the good guy. Responsible and stable. Safe. So when a beer-drinking, quick-witted, tattooed hockey player asks me to tutor him, I'm suddenly thrust into the world of bad boys and bad decisions. Jordan is a renowned player on campus. He doesn’t take anything seriously, except hockey and partying. But he gives me butterflies. I’m a wallflower tutoring Valley University’s hottest player.

Gigi Graham has exactly three goals: qualify for the women's national hockey team, win Olympic gold, and step out of her famous father's shadow. So far, so good, except for two little things. Fine—a little thing and a big, grumpy thing. She needs to improve her game behind the net, and she needs help from Luke Ryder. Ryder is six-foot five, built, opinionated, rude . . . and sexy as hell. But he's still the enemy.

Carter Beckett is the NHL’s resident bad boy, top player both on the ice and in the bedroom, and quite possibly the sexiest man to ever grace my field of vision. But worst of all? He knows it. He’s arrogant, self-centered, and the man doesn’t seem to know what a filter is, let alone how to use one. He’s had everything served to him on a silver platter, including endless strings of women, and apparently, I’m up next. I have the solution to all my sexual frustrations in a drawer at home, and it’s far less complicated than Carter Beckett.