I was naked. And we had no chance in hell at ever being platonic. I’ll be the first to admit that I live at extremes. After going ten years locked in what felt like a dysfunctional marriage, I’m now decidedly boy-free. In nearly three years I’ve had no boyfriends, no flings, no dates and no sex. For the sake of my dream career, the sacrifice has been easy. At least it was. Until he came along. Lukas Hendricks. He’s rude, gorgeous, arrogant – a stone-carved wall of muscle and distraction. He’s everything I know to avoid but there’s no avoiding your next-door neighbor. Oh yeah. The man now lives three steps from me and to make matters worse, he crashed into my life while I was relaxed in the tub – mortifying to say the least and it went something like this: I was exposed. He looked. He laughed. And then I locked myself out. In short, Lukas Hendricks was trouble from the start. And me? I was – for the first time in years – about to be screwed.

    Not a lick. Not at all. Nuh-uh-freakin’-uh.I do care that he’s doing it six feet away from me behind a gaudy velvet curtain—making him my competition in this year’s kissing contest.Why do I care, you ask? Because I’ve had an unfortunate crush on the insufferable idiot since I was sixteen years old, but I also know it’s never going to happen.He’s the Creek Falls bachelor to die for, and I’m the Creek Falls racoon lady who puts peanut butter sandwiches out for them every night.I’m not going to let him break my four-year-long reign—no matter how many times he breaks the rules and slides the curtain across to do the one thing he’s not allowed to:Kiss me.

    Right to someone my mom picks out on some new dating app.Then my salvation walks into the restaurant.Zara Ambrose.The five-foot-nothing redhead with more freckles than inches that I convinced to go on five dates with me for all the world to see.She's got her own reasons for our set up--and her own rules.But somewhere between the couples' obstacle course, wrestling matches with her Great Dane, and fights over mashed potatoes, Zara went from means-to-an-end to something so much more.What happens when you start to fall for the one girl you can't have...on live TV?

    And what's working is him keeping his pants zipped and doing all of his scoring on the field.So when I hear he's planning to ditch his V-card now that he's been traded to baseball's lovable losers — aka my home team and my reason for living every March through October — I do what any rational, dedicated, obsessed fan would do.I make a plan to stop him.But the thing about stopping him is that it requires spending time with him.Lots. And lots. And lots of time.And the more time I spend with him, the more I like him. Not as the guy who's going to help save my favorite team and finally bring home a championship ring, but as the guy who's helping me in my quest to bring back the team's old mascot. Who also loves making pancake and bacon sandwiches. And who would do almost anything for his love of the game.But after all this time of jock-blocking him… do I even have a chance?And if I do, are we both destined to a life of celibacy in the name of winning?Jock Blocked is a home run of a romantic comedy featuring the world's most superstitious sports fan, baseball's oldest virgin hero, a rogue meatball, an adorable puppy with a cussing problem, and the best lovable losers. It stands alone and comes with a happily ever after more satisfying than a game-winning grand slam.

     Outgoing? Check.Single? Check.Open to finding love? Check. I signed up immediately. A hopeless romantic with an exceedingly demanding schedule, I've found it impossible to find the man of my dreams—so Going in Blind seems too good to be true! That’s until they start setting me up on dates—three very different, very attractive, very distinct blind dates—and only one thing is for certain . . . I’m in big trouble. Good Morning Malibu,I'm Noely Clark, and I have a choice to make.The question is who will I choose; the suit, the rebel, or the jock.

    She has one chance to turn things around with a big audition. But instead of getting her big break, she gets sick as a dog and completely bombs it in the most humiliating fashion. All thanks to a mysterious, gorgeous guy who kissed—and then coughed on—her at a party the night before.Luckily, her best friend might have found the perfect opportunity; a job staying at the lavish penthouse apartment of hotel magnate Bancroft Mills while he’s out of town, taking care of his exotic pets. But when the newly-evicted Ruby arrives to meet her new employer, it turns out Bane is the same guy who got her sick. Seeing his role in Ruby’s dilemma, Bane offers her a permanent job as his live-in pet sitter until she can get back on her feet. Filled with hilariously awkward encounters and enough sexual tension to heat a New York City block, Shacking Up, from NYT and USA Today bestselling author Helena Hunting, is sure to keep you laughing and swooning all night long.

    When the head coach of the Austin Mavericks refuses to let him waste his million-dollar arm, Tyson makes a Hail Mary pass at redemption and succeeds with everyone . . . except Dani, whose negative comments about his performance draw high ratings and spectacular notices of her own.Dani can’t forgive Tyson’s transgressions or forget the sizzling history the two of them shared in college, a passionate love Tyson casually threw away. And even more infuriating, he doesn’t realize that the bombshell with huge ratings is the cute girl whose heart he once broke.But can a woman trying to claw her way to the top and a quarterback who knows all about rock bottom make it to the Super Bowl without destroying each other? And what will happen when Tyson—riding high now that he’s revived his career—realizes he needs to make an even more important comeback with Dani? Can he make some spectacular moves to get past her defenses—or will she sideline him for good?

    And he looks good enough to eat, which is just one more reason to stay away from him. But I can’t resist.The sex is incredible (pretty sure we’ve shaken the house right off its foundation), but he can’t fool me—not this time. A degree in marketing and five years in advertising have taught me that “true love” is a fairy tale used to sell lipstick, diamonds, and perfume. It doesn’t exist.He thinks I’m wrong, and he wants to prove it.I think he’s crazy, so I dare him to try.It might be the biggest mistake of my life.

    Uh, nix that last one. Brent has the talent and skill that should have his career soaring. But something is wrong. He’s lost his hockey mojo and can’t get it back. Enter Aubrey Shelburne, life coach to the stars. Aubrey’s worked with some difficult celebrities, but she’s never encountered a guy quite like Brent Oliver. Or has she? Seems a reckless night of partying, one that had Aubrey waking up in a strange man’s bed, is about to bite her in the ass. That is, if Brent doesn’t first. Fighting an off-the-charts attraction, Aubrey and Brent must learn to work together. But it’s not an easy task when they’re at each other’s throats every minute. Is this relationship a disaster in the making? Or is it destiny? Washboard abs and sex toy mishaps aside, Destiny on Ice is a fun and irreverent romp that’ll have you swooning on one page and laughing on the next.Sports Romance/Romantic ComedyNOTE: **STANDALONE NOVEL** **EACH BOOK IN THE BOYS OF WINTER SERIES WILL FEATURE A DIFFERENT HOCKEY PLAYER'S STORY**

    And while that label stung at first, I’ve since embraced it — living the wild and free life and sticking to a three date max. That’s just enough time to have some fun and snuff out the possibility of catching feelings. And it’s been working for me for years… Until Makoa Kumaka.Sadly, he also has a three date rule — and it’s the exact opposite of mine. From the second I meet him, all I can think about is stripping down that six-foot-five Herculean hunk of a man. But like the gentleman I wish he wasn’t, he’s making me wait.The more time we spend together, the more I feel those pesky emotions creeping in. I’m even tempted to trust him, but blame it on my past or my instincts, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s hiding something… I’ve been playing the game forever, and no man has ever won my heart — which meant they never had the power to break it.But maybe I just hadn’t met the right player.Maybe I’ll wish I never did.

    Suit monkey, commitment-phobic serial dater. No more than three dates, unless he hasn't ... you know. Emmy:What a disaster! I only just made my flight to New York to help my uncle, and the phone I’m holding is not mine! It seems to belong to some commitment-phobic serial dater who’s never made it past four dates (according to the constant notifications he's getting from his fake dating profile...) And worse? I have a sinking feeling it’s that hot suit-monkey with the arctic grey eyes I just had a run-in with at the airport. Somehow I have to persuade him not to get a new phone until I get back. My whole life is on that phone. It’s only a few days. Surely we can handle it. Trystan :This is a joke, right? My life could not get more f*cked up. I’m in the middle of selling my company and on my way to a funeral and that hot mess hippie-chick stole my freaking phone. I’m not sure how she convinced me not to immediately walk into a smart phone store and get a new one, but now she’s going to have to play stand in and distract me while I deal with my long-avoided and estranged family. I don’t have my dating apps after all, and frankly she’s pretty funny. And sexy. And why can’t I stop texting her? And now we’re talking. And … look, I’ll admit that I usually run for the hills the morning after, but the morning after phone sex? That’s not really real, right?

    Get details. Details are crucial.Lesson Four: don't alter her bio in front of an auditorium of high school students unless you know she has a sense of humor for that sort of thing.Lesson Five: if you ignore Lesson Four, apologize instead of flirt when you're sent to the principal's office.Lesson Six: NEVER sleep with her again.Lesson Seven: pay attention to this one, it's the most important of them all.Don't fall for your one-night stand.Class dismissed.

    Needing some place to hide, to lick my wounds and figure out what I even want to do with my life once this blows over, I can only think of one place I need to be. Summersweet Island, where everyone treats me like one of their own, and they’ll all be happy to have me home again.Well, except maybe one person. It’s been two years since I last set foot on Summersweet Island or spoke to anyone there. But I’m sure Birdie Bennett, my best friend since I was 15 and the clubhouse manager of my favorite golf course, has had plenty of time to forgive me for that tiny little misunderstanding where I blocked her on social media and blocked her in my phone. Oh, and I guess I kind of, sort of accused her of being a stalker. It’s fine!Once my sexy, spunky, former best friend gets over the shock of seeing me again and stops trying to drive a 9-iron into my skull, I can finally let her know I’ve also kind of, sort of always been in love with her...

    Somehow we end up at his penthouse. I blame the gin and tonic.The next day I learn he’s Jack Hawke—bad-boy professional quarterback with a murky past. The NDA he has me sign should be a warning that he isn’t a regular person. Please. I sign it Juliet Capulet, so goodbye, famous football player with abs of steel, and good luck tracking down this small-town librarian.But Jack keeps showing up in places I least expect him. Just when I’m sure he’s gone, he waltzes into my community theater and wins the part of Romeo to my Juliet. How’s a plain, mostly innocent girl like me supposed to resist a man like him?Is Jack my real Romeo… or will this gorgeous football player only break my heart?

    A 24-year-old law student at Tulane, Beau was as mysterious to me as second base (both in baseball and in the bedroom). He was older. Intimidating. Hot. Boys my age had chicken legs and chubby cheeks. Beau had calloused hands and a jaw cut from steel. Our interactions were scarce—mostly involving slight stalking on my end—and yet deep down, I desperately hoped he saw me as more of a potential lover than a lovesick loser.Turns out, I was fooling myself. My fragile ego learned that lesson the hard way.Now, ten years later, we’re both back in New Orleans, and guess who suddenly can’t take his eyes off little ol’ me.My old friend, Mr. Fortier.But things have changed. I’m older now—poised and confident. My ego wears a bulletproof vest. The butterflies that once filled my stomach have all perished.When I was a teenager, Beau warned me to guard my heart.Let’s hope he knows how to guard his.