Chicago Players

My dad's teammate needs a nanny and I need a job. Sounds perfect, right? Except for my massive crush on him . . . the one he knows all about. Lars I just found out I'm a dad. My one-night stand dropped a baby bombshell in my local bar where I was celebrating my team's win. Then she fled, leaving me holding my new daughter. Thank God for Adeline. The daughter of my teammate and closest friend on the Chicago Rebels, she practically raised her little sister and knows exactly how to deal with this situation. I need a nanny; she needs a job. Problem sorted, right? Not so fast . . . Adeline I think you're the sexiest guy alive. That's what Lars Nyquist overheard me say while recounting my embarrassing crush on him. Yeah, that Lars Nyquist. Defenseman for the Chicago Rebels. Owner of the thickest thighs in the league. More than a decade my senior. Oh, and my dad's teammate. My only option? Leave the country, of course. Luckily, I'd already planned a round–the–world trip with my bestie and by the time I returned to Chicago a year later, I expected my blunder would be long forgotten. Shows what I know. Now I'm lying awake in the bedroom next to his while playing nanny to his surprise little girl. But I can ignore this stupid infatuation. I have to. Even though the sight of Lars learning to be a dad leaves me breathless and takes that crush to a whole other level. One that has the potential to break my sorry little heart . . .

Summer I can't marry him. I have no good reason to jilt my hockey player fiancé, except that the closer we get to the big day, the more I feel myself shrinking to a hollow shell. Two minutes after I slip into the church bathroom to calm my pre-wedding jitters, I jump out the window to make my escape . . . and land on Hatch Kershaw, my fiancé's teammate on the Chicago Rebels. This guy has always hated me for reasons I can't fathom. Half the time he looks right through me, like I'm no better than the ice shavings on his skate blades. The other half? That brooding green gaze strips me bare and sees right into my soul. Neither option is good for me, so I really shouldn't want his help . . . should I? Hatch The bride hit me like a ton of bricks. The last thing I expected was for my teammate's bride to ask for my help in fleeing her wedding. Make that the second last-even more unexpected is that I said "yes." Before I know it, I've driven her to my family's vacation home because I'm a nice guy and she needs to catch her breath. Only now, I can't breathe around her. Summer Landry and I have never hit it off, so why the hell am I going along with this madness? Every stolen glance and accidental touch tell me she's off-limits, while each torturous second with her in our lakeside hideaway has me questioning everything I thought I knew about who she is and what she's hiding. No one can know what I did-not my teammate, not my family, not the media-or all hell will break loose. Most of all, Summer can never know why I dislike her so much. Because if she did, I might not recover.

Franky When confronted with the cold, hard facts of her diminishing chances to be a mom, what's a woman of science to do? Make a spreadsheet of eligible donors, of course. Finding a man for life is not in the cards, but one for this singular purpose? I can do that. As the daughter of a Chicago Rebels legend and an expert in the field of gastropods-more commonly known as snails and slugs-I have plenty of choices in the worlds of both hockey and academia. The selection process should be easy, especially after eliminating several options, including Jason Isner, childhood nemesis and recently acquired defenseman for the Rebels. I've always considered him arrogant, cruel, and not the brightest bulb. But I might have been mistaken about Jason . . . Jason I even surprised myself when I offered to be Franky St. James's baby daddy, but fatherhood has been a dream of mine forever. If I can achieve my goal without a relationship, even better. I won't be a "pump and dump" donor, though. I want the whole package: nighttime feedings, shopping for cute onesies, teaching my kid to skate. I'm in it for life, and as Franky and I travel this road together, I start to imagine what having a family of my own might look like. The thing is, she has all sorts of hypotheses about jocks and relationships, and it's going to take a lot of persuasion to prove her wrong. She might think snail mating rituals are the only "coupling" worth studying, but I'm determined to show her that when it comes to seeking a mate, this player is as driven as any species in the animal kingdom.