Things that stress out this widowed single mom: high fructose corn syrup, intrusive thoughts about my son getting swept up by a tornado, and the sexiest hockey player to grace this planet.

Oh, and the fact that I’m also said hockey player’s physical therapist. But we’ll lock that tidbit away in the same nightstand as my battery-operated toys.

Moving my son and me across the country to live with my three best friends and our seven children into one dilapidated Boston brownstone should have been the biggest risk I’ve ever taken–not figuring out how to protect my heart, career, and panties while trying to navigate my secret double life.

But Rowan ‘Slick’ Parker is nothing if not hell-bent on taking slapshots at my comfort zone. The more I try to keep things professional, the more he works to break the rules with his charming grin, piercing gaze, and world-class rear end.

Not to mention, he adores my son.

So, I finally give in.

Don’t worry, though, it’s all temporary–a way for us to get each other out of our systems.

But little do I know, ‘temporary’ has a way of leaving lasting impressions on the heart.