He only pretended to be until my real date showed up.To say I was disappointed would be an understatement.Before he left, he slipped me a ticket to a hockey game a few blocks away, in case things didn’t work out on my actual date.I tossed the ticket into my purse and went about trying to enjoy the man I was supposed to meet.But my real blind date and I had no connection.So on my way home, I decided to take a chance and stop by the game.When I arrived, the seat next to me was empty.Disappointed again, I decided to leave at the end of the period.Just before the buzzer, one of the teams scored, and the entire arena went crazy.A player’s face flashed up on the Jumbotron. He was wearing a helmet, but I froze when he smiled.You guessed it: Dimples.Apparently, my fake blind date hadn’t invited me to watch hockey with him, he’d invited me to watch him play.And so began my adventure with Max Yearwood.He was everything I needed at the time—fun, sexy, up for anything, and only around for a few months since he’d signed with a new team three-thousand miles away.Max proposed we spend the summer helping me forget my ex. It sounded like a good plan. Things couldn’t get too serious when we had an expiration date. Right? Though, you know what they say about the best-laid plans.

    Like her parents pressuring her to leave her unpaid publishing internship for law school.But when Ryan's rookie teammate attaches himself to Rachael, she ends up cohosting Friday-night dinners for half a dozen football players.Over pancake brunches, charity galas and Alexander the Great, Rachael realizes all the judgments she'd made about Ryan are wrong. But how can a Midwestern Irish-Catholic jock with commitment problems and an artsy, gun-shy Jewish New Englander ever forge a partnership? Rachael must let down her barriers if she wants real love—even if that opens her up to pain that could send her back into her emotional shell forever.89,000 words

    There is no denying his sex appeal.I hate to admit it, but I’m head over heels infatuated with him.There is one HUGE problem though. His achingly gorgeous abs, inked up arm, and cocky swagger belong to my boss, the high-profile, reality star bitch from hell and certified heinous human being, Bellini Chambers.What I think is going to be an easy job assisting a glorified wench turns into a cluster f*ck of epic proportions.