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There’s more to me than just being awk-weird. I own my own flower shop, have some great friends, and I have my eye on adopting the most adorable kitten. But sadly, hot guys don’t tend to be blown away by my trivia-spouting, dorky self.

So when a Thor-lookalike who happens to be a professional hockey player hits on me at my bestie’s wedding rehearsal party... You better believe I climbed that tree like a cat. And the fact that it happened not once, not twice, but three times? Yeah, that’s pretty much a once-in-a-lifetime experience for a woman like me.

There’s zero chance I’ll end up ever seeing him again...right?

Until the pregnancy test comes up positive. What happens next?

Oh my God, I wish I knew…

It wasn't me.

It was my team.

But as almost co-captain I raised my hand to fix it.

Never imagined they'd arrange a PR stunt to make me look like Mr. 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?

I never meant to say a word, not one single word.

But I did.

Now because of something I leaked—without even realizing it—I've inadvertently broken up one of the Ice Knights’ most legendary bromances. And worse—I've kicked hockey star Ian Petrov's grumpy level to insane levels of grump.

And what could make it worse? How about the two of us being trapped together in a remote cabin after a massive blizzard. Neither of us can leave. Just us, the snow, his resentment, and OMG sexual tension so thick it would take a snowplow to break through it.

I’ve got to get out of here before I do something even dumber than I’ve already done and kiss the sexy with his misplaced anger and perfect pecs. That would be the worst, the absolute worst. But… would it be terrible if we gave in? Just a little? It’s not like we’re ever going to have to spend time together again. 

Until the next morning when we’re told we have to play chummy for the press until this news cycle blows over. F.M.L.