Sylvia Pierce

“You’re wearing mistletoe panties, princess. Where was I supposed to kiss you?” Eva Bradshaw used to have standards. But with Christmas around the corner and a six-year-old daughter to feed, there’s not much the former Olympic figure skater wouldn’t do for some extra cash, even if it means violating her hard limit: hockey players. Like the filthy-mouthed, sex-on-skates hockey god who’s about to slide straight into her penalty box… NHL center Walker Dunn has been stuck on the injured list for months. So when his trainer springs for some one-on-one time with a beautiful woman, Walker’s more than ready to take the edge off… until he realizes the ice princess with the perfect ass isn’t there to handle his stick. She’s there to coach him back into action—whether he likes it or not. Walker puts the cock in hockey. Eva’s a champion ball-buster. Hate-f*cking their way onto Santa’s very naughty list might be their only shot at settling the score. But falling for each other? Never. No way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell…

In the market for a hot tip? Here’s one. Don’t bang your best friend’s little sister. Especially when she’s an investigative journalist and your company is the target of her latest exposé. Unfortunately, I’ve got a hard-on for high-risk bets, and I’m more than eager to invest my considerable stock holdings in Ellie Seyfried’s…ahem…glorious assets. Friends with fringe benefits is a sweet deal, but it’s not long before I’m falling harder than the post-bubble Nasdaq, hooked on Ellie’s sweet smile and determination to make the world a better place. There’s only one problem… When it comes to risking my money, I’ve mastered every trick in the book. But how the hell do I risk my heart? *** I’m one puff piece away from tearing up my journalism degree and hurling my laptop into the Hudson River. So when I smell a juicy story brewing at my brother’s Wall Street investment firm, I’ll do whatever it takes to get my scoop. One clever disguise later, I’m deep undercover as the firm’s newest broker, simultaneously gathering intel and spouting off stock tips like a boss. Go me, right? Sure, it sounds good on paper, but there’s a catch: the actual boss. Chief Executive Panty-melter Jack Holt is cocky. Infuriating. And one smoldering look has me ready to violate every rule in the employee handbook. Thank God my assignment has an expiration date. Because falling for my brother’s best friend and business partner is a lose-lose proposition. Right?