It all started with a mysterious blue note sewn into a wedding dress. Something blue. I’d gone to sell my own unworn bridal gown at a vintage clothing store. That’s when I found another bride’s “something old". Stitched into the lining of a fabulously feathered design was the loveliest message I’d ever read: Thank you for making all of my dreams come true.

I didn't mean to star in a sex tape, okay? It was just one of those unexplainable things. Like Stonehenge, Police Academy 2, and morning glory clouds. It just happened. Now, my ball-busting father is sentencing me to six months of celibacy, sobriety, and morbid boredom under the roof of Boston's nerdiest girl alive, Sailor Brennan. The virginal archer is supposed to babysit my ass while I learn to take my place in Royal Pipelines, my family's oil company. Little does she know, that's not the only pipe I'll be laying....

I'm the whispers in the dark you can't ignore. The bully you can't run away from. I'm the tormentor who makes your life a living hell. The villain you love to hate. I'm the vicious monster sleeping in the next room. The one who knows all your secrets. And I'll stop at nothing to make you pay.

If you've ever seen your teenage crush 10 years later, and he turns out to be a complete jerk, then you know how Molly Ward feels. The last time she saw Noah Griffin was the regrettable day that she decided to climb into his bedroom window and turn her unrequited crush into something more. That day was bad enough, but things are about to get worse. Noah has become one of the best football players in the country, and he's just landed on Molly's front step.

Dancing on bar tops means the night is going great. Exiting the bar hauled over the shoulder of Heston University's infamous hockey captain? Not my idea of a good time. But my would-be knight would have to do. I needed an escape route from my brother… his biggest rival. Easton Blake is the perfect reminder of why I avoid hockey players. Cocky. Frustratingly sexy. Accustomed to every girl in his orbit falling for his charm. With his sultry smile that tells me he knows all the ways to make girls come undone with his touch, I'm almost the next score on his stats.

Hockey is my life. It's my only goal, my only escape. Everything was going according to plan. All I had to do was focus on the game, keep my head down, then get drafted into the NHL. Starting the year as the captain of FU should have made that easy, but now my attention is torn between the ice and taunting my rival's little sister, Madeline Peters. My only real solace is the mystery girl inside my phone who refuses to tell me her name. Then, one drunken knock on the wrong door brings Madeline into my bedroom.

There are a few things that life doesn’t prepare you for. Like what to do when a super-hot guy catches you sneaking around in his basement, or what to do when a mysterious package shows up with tickets to a hockey game (because, apparently, he’s a professional athlete). Nor how to handle it when you get to the game and realize he’s freaking famous, since half of the 20,000 people in the stands are wearing his jersey.

We fell in love on a beach, got married in paradise, and rode off into the sunset. It should have been perfect, but saying "I do" doesn't guarantee a happily ever after. Two years later, I barely recognize either of us behind the walls we've built. It's time to bring it full circle. Back to a tropical paradise. Back to find out if we can still make this work. I'm not willing to give her up, but to save us, I have to risk everything.

A year ago, my best friend received an exclusive invitation to join an elite brotherhood at Kingston University. He went into Hawthorne Hall for his initiation—but never came out. I intend to find out why. The brotherhood would never knowingly invite a female into their ranks. So what if I forged my father's signature on the recommendation? With a name like Elliot Ashford, they'll never see me coming. I'll endure whatever hell these brutal brothers put me through because I have no intention of backing down or bowing out gracefully. It won't be pretty.

Jamie Canning has never been able to figure out how he lost his closest friend. Four years ago, his tattooed, wisecracking, rule-breaking roommate cut him off without an explanation. So what if things got a little weird on the last night of hockey camp the summer they were 18? It was just a little drunken foolishness. Nobody died.

They say your first kiss should be earned. Mine was stolen by a devil in a masquerade mask under the black Chicago sky. They say the vows you take on your wedding day are sacred. Mine were broken before we left church. They say your heart only beats for one man. Mine split and bled for two rivals who fought for it until the bitter end. I was promised to Angelo Bandini, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the Chicago Outfit. Then taken by Senator Wolfe Keaton, who held my father’s sins over his head to force me into marriage.

Best-selling authors Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy return with their first Male/Male romance in 3 years. LobsterShorts, 21. Jock. Secretly a science geek. Hot AF. SinnerThree, 21. Finance major. Secretly a male dancer. Hot AF. LobsterShorts: So. Here goes. For her birthday, my girlfriend wants…a threesome. SinnerThree: Then you’ve come to the right hookup app. LobsterShorts: Have you done this sort of thing before? With another guy? SinnerThree: All the time. I’m an equal opportunity player. You? LobsterShorts: [crickets!]

I'm the daughter of the Don, but my life as a mafia princess is far from a fairy-tale. Trapped in a pretty cage, my family clipped my wings so that I can fill the role all princesses are tasked: to marry a prince and secure an alliance. My mob boss father would give anything to gain an edge over the rest of the Supernatural Syndicates in New York—including me.

“Give me a second chance, babe . . . and I’ll blow your mind.” Monroe doesn’t know why she answers the text that’s obviously meant for someone else. Or why she keeps answering. Maybe it’s because she’s all alone in a big city and in desperate need of a lifeline. Or maybe it’s because each exchange leaves her intrigued and more than a little turned on. Still, Monroe never would’ve snarked back if she’d known she was talking to the “Golden Boy” of the Dallas Knights.

The furniture district is my personal hell. I don’t know my ass from an ottoman. But when a hot designer comes to my rescue, I realize my problems are bigger than the house I’m trying to furnish.