From USA Today bestselling author Claudia Burgoa comes a slow-burn, mistaken-identity romance about hidden fame, second chances at life, and the woman who accidentally falls for a rockstar in disguise.
I plan other people’s love stories for a living. Perfect nights. Perfect moments. Perfect control.
So when my guitarist cancels an hour before a high-profile event, I do what any professional would do—panic quietly and pray for a miracle.
Then he walks in.
Late. Soaked from the rain. Incredibly handsome. Unapologetically charming.
A man I absolutely shouldn’t notice.
He plays music like the storm outside taught him how to feel.
He saves the night. And without meaning to, he starts unraveling mine.
I don’t know that he’s a world-famous musician in hiding.
I only know that when he looks at me, the world stops spinning.
I build love stories for other people. It’s chaotic, but it’s always strategic, straight-forward.
But this time, the one falling—hard, fast, and completely unplanned—is me.
There’s no seating chart that can contain, or explain, the storm that is Dexter Vaughn. But maybe his humor, guitars, and big heart is exactly what I need to build my own breathtaking love story.
Second Chance, Hockey MMF Why Choose Romance by Claudia Burgoa April 15th 2026
BLURB
Two Rivals. One Woman. No Choosing.
Alberto Wade and Callaway Winthrop were my best friends first—until one night broke us, and the three of us stopped being an us.
Now they’re enemies in the league, an “infamous rivalry” splashed across headlines like it’s just hockey.
It isn’t.
It’s me.
It’s what they’ve always wanted and have never been able to agree on.
It’s the way their hate on the ice has always sounded too much like longing off it.
Now, a shocking trade and an emergency back home drag us back into the same orbit. Older. harder. Still dangerous. Still looking at me like I’m the only thing they’ve ever wanted.
They still want to win.
They still want me.
I still refuse to choose.
But second chances come with scars, secrets, and promises we never got to finish—until a single mistake turns into two pink lines . . .
I’m pregnant—with a baby that isn’t theirs.
The timing is brutal. The fallout is inevitable. And the only way we survive what comes next is if they stop making me choose—stop pretending their rivalry is the only fire between them—and finally admit what’s been burning between all three of us all along.
Because this time . . .
They’re not just fighting for a season.
They’re fighting for us.
USA Today Bestselling Author Claudia Burgoa delivers a deeply angsty MMF why-choose hockey romance featuring two pro-hockey rivals, the woman they can’t stop loving, hurt/comfort, found family, and a love that risks careers, reputations, and the one thing they never meant to want—each other.
Lyrics Remain Unchanged: MMF Best Friend's Little Sister Romance Heartbreak Mixtapes, #2
by Claudia Burgoa
February 25th 2026
From USA Today bestselling author Claudia Burgoa comes a high-heat, high-angst rockstar-billionaire MMF romance with a lie big enough to save a life—and a second chance at HEA.
Fall 2000, New York—I disappear.
Headlines circle like vultures, but only two men know the truth: Eddie Reznor, who makes problems vanish and lets his guard fall only for me, and Barret Hetfield, the bright-but-bruised rockstar Eddie once rescued . . . and never stopped loving.
We hide while the city gossips. We let the world believe I’m gone so I can finally breathe.
In the quiet, we re-learn the shape of us—therapy that holds me together, small rituals, guitar chords, and midnight tea.
My body is relearning trust under hands that listen and a voice that won’t let me disappear.
Eddie is the line I hold. Barret is the spark. I want to choose both.
Their plan keeps me alive. Their heat keeps me fierce. And love like this won’t stay secret.
When the façade cracks and the cameras close in, I have to choose: keep vanishing, or step into the light with the two men who are already home.
This time, the melody is different. But the lyrics remain unchanged.
My Review of LYRICS REMAIN UNCHANGED (Heartbreak Mixtapes, #2) . . . HERE
The boy who made the one mistake I’ll never forgive.
Roderick Wilder and I grew up side by side—two kids tangled up in music, mixtapes, and lyrics that felt like they belonged only to us. Then he destroyed everything we had and disappeared, chasing a future without me.
Twelve years later, he’s back.
Not the rising star I remember, but a man who’s broken, scarred, and desperate to rewrite his story.
The problem? I’ve already started falling for someone else—an anonymous stranger I trade late-night messages with, sharing lyrics and reliving the bands that shaped us.
He feels safe.
He feels new.
He feels like everything Roderick isn’t.
But soon I might need to choose between the stranger who makes me believe again . . .
and the boy who once destroyed me.
From USA Today bestselling author Claudia Burgoa comes a nostalgic second-chance romance of mixtapes, dial-up confessions, and the one boy who broke her heart before the world ever knew his name.
(Not So) Simple Lyrics is an emotional, nostalgic second chance which features your favorite tropes:
🎸Slowburn 🎸Rockstar 🎸Bad boy 🎸First love, childhood crush, it’s always been you 🎸Wounded /Damaged / Tortured Hero 🎸Epistolary novel 🎸Redemption
From USA Today Bestselling Author Claudia Burgoa comes a laugh-out-loud holiday romcom stuffed with festive tension, found family, and a fake relationship that spirals delightfully out of control.
She’s glitter, chaos, and sunshine.
He’s broody, grumpy, and allergic to feelings.
Together?
They’re the fake couple nobody knew they needed—but everyone’s about to fall for.
She’s the team owner's little sister, my new nanny, and so completely out of my league.
Ice, Love, & Other Penalties, an all-new enthralling single dad, hockeyromance from USA Today bestselling author Claudia Burgoa is now available!
Keep reading for a look inside Ice, Love, & Other Penalties!
Prologue
Indie
Love is, for some, the ultimate dream. For me, it’s a waste of time.
Romance is nothing but heartache as far as I could see.
Don’t believe me? My biological mother couldn’t live with herself after my biological father died in a car accident. The doctors were able to save me through an emergency C-section. She hadn’t been able to bear the grief and loss of my father. I may have survived, but she did not.
I was a lucky girl, though. Jacob and Pria Decker offered to foster me from the moment I took my first breath.
They were in the NICU for the first three weeks, then took me home, hoping one day they would be able to adopt me. There’s a happy beginning to that story. Soon, I became Indigo Faye Decker—Indie for short.
Mom and Dad have shown me all about family and love. They love me just the same as they do my siblings, even if I don’t share their blood. That kind of love is easy to understand. The romantic one . . . well, in my opinion it sucks.
It’s a lie.
It breaks people, and some don’t even survive—like my mother. If that’s not enough, take one of my oldest brothers, for example. Gabriel lost his first girlfriend at the age of sixteen. He was utterly devastated for a long time. Then came Ameline, and though she brought a smile to his face, it disappeared when she moved across the country to create a new life. That type of love broke him into a million pieces.
Then there’s my sister Harper. Her fiancé was physically, emotionally, and mentally abusing her for years. That worthless piece of trash had destroyed a part of my vibrant, confident older sister.
Who wants to be with someone if, at the end of the day, they’re going to make you feel useless? Not me.
I wish I could say this was just me being an observer, but I once was in love, and he . . . Well, he destroyed me.
The first time I saw him, he was a whirlwind on ice, a blur of navy blue, gold, and white. His sheer talent made my heart race faster than the skaters on the rink. His name was Frederick, and in the glow of the rink lights, he seemed more myth than man, a hero in a hockey jersey. He was my oldest brother Jude’s friend. Freddie was a fixture in our home, but to me, he was untouchable, a dream wrapped in the harsh reality of ice.
“It wasn’t just his skill that captivated me. It was the easy laughter, the way his dark brown eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, and how he seemed to fill any room he entered with an infectious energy. To everyone else, he was Freddie, the talented hockey player destined for greatness. To me, he was the guy who made my heart do somersaults every time he ruffled my hair and called me “kid.” If only I’d known the kind of man who lurked beneath the surface.
But as the years slipped by, the gap between Freddie and me seemed to shrink. I went from being Jude’s annoying little sister to someone he actually saw. Our conversations stretched beyond the polite small talk, delving into dreams, fears, and his future. A future I wanted to be a part of. His hopes for the big leagues, knowing the scouts that were already circling. I hung onto every word, secretly dreaming of a future where I was more than just a spectator in his life.
After graduating, he still came around our house to visit us. Though, secretly I always thought it was me who he was looking for. Our friendship grew as I became older. At least, that’s what I thought.
And when I started college, we texted often. Then, there was that one day when his team was in New York to play, and he came to my little studio apartment after the game. I felt so lucky.
Lucky that he had finally turned those dark eyes in my direction. Lucky that we were finally crossing the line from friends to more. At first, I thought my luck had finally turned, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
He finally saw me as Indie.
I wasn’t Jude’s little sister.
I wasn’t the girl with the childish crush.
He saw me as me—someone who saw him, not just the hockey player, but the boy who laughed too loud, who loved cheesy horror movies, and who had the power to make my heart race with just a glance.
The innocent eighteen-year-old full of love still remembers that night.
When an unexpected visitor had turned my quiet evening upside down. Someone had knocked on my door. When I opened it, it was him, Frederick. I knew the Boston Blizzards were playing the New York Guardians that night but seeing him on my doorstep . . . something shifted in the atmosphere of my small, art-filled space. There he stood, looking effortlessly charismatic.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” he’d said, his voice carrying that familiar warmth, tinged with an edge of something more—excitement, perhaps, or anticipation. “I couldn’t be this close and not see you.”
His words, simple as they were, struck a chord deep within me. It was as if, in that moment, he truly saw me.
“Hey, Freddie,” I said as I finally found my words.
“Finally, I get to do this,” he said, his voice deep and commanding as he closed the distance between us. Before I could react, his lips were on mine, demanding and forceful. I froze, unsure of how to respond. This wasn’t the gentle, tentative first kiss I had imagined. It was something else entirely.
He pulled back, his eyes searching mine for a response. I couldn’t find my voice, so I simply stared at him, my heart still racing. He took this as an invitation, and his lips were on mine again, this time with more urgency.
My mind was reeling. This was wrong, wasn’t it? But at the same time, it felt so right. His hands roamed my body, igniting a fire within me that I had never felt before. I couldn’t help but respond, my own hands exploring his muscular frame.
I winced as he pushed my panties down, his fingers grazing my skin. I wasn’t ready for this, was I? But it was too late to turn back now. He was already unbuttoning his pants, revealing his impressive length. I gasped as he entered me, the pain sharp and intense.
“Stop, please, stop,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart, but he didn’t listen to my plea. Instead, he dove deeper into his own urgency, his movements became more frantic, as if trying to escape from something within himself rather than connecting with me.
That night marked the end of my love story, the kind of ending that doesn’t make it into the fairy tales. It was the night he finally kissed me, the night I thought would seal our love, but instead, it unraveled the very fabric of my being. It was as if he took everything from me, leaving me hollow.
I chastised myself, laughter bitter and hollow resonating in my mind. How could I have been so naïve? To believe that he could ever love me was foolish. He proved as much when, after he was done, he walked away without a backward glance. The one time I dared to reach out to him, he coldly told me to leave him alone. Claimed he was too busy for a “child” like me. He even threatened me with a restraining order if I dared to contact him again.
Love, I’ve come to realize, is a fool’s game. It tempts you with promises of forever, only to leave you shattered in its wake.
Haunted by the fear of ending up like my biological mother—to unlife myself after the loss of the man she loved—a cascade of nightmares began to plague me. Night after night, they serve as a cruel reminder of my stupidity, transforming my life.
Despite the mayhem that boils within me, I strive to live a semblance of a normal life. Yet, when the night falls and the world quiets, the fear of closing my eyes is palpable. The darkness isn’t just the absence of light. It’s a canvas for my deepest fears to paint their horrors.
But in the light of day, I wear my mask well. Everyone in my family just thinks that I have debilitating anxiety, which interferes with some aspects of my life. Yet, I still smile, I laugh, and I pretend that I’m okay. Despite the fact that beneath the surface there’s a constant battle raging—a battle to find peace with my past, to forgive myself.
Of course, I tread carefully, guarding my heart against the possibility of being shattered once more.
Famous Last Words, an all-new angst filled, emotional second chance, rock star romance from USA Today bestselling author Claudia Burgoa is now available!
Keep reading for a look inside Famous Last Words!
Brahms
The disorienting roar of the helicopter blades slices through the air, overwhelming my eardrums. Their constant thwap-thwap-thwap feels like a heartbeat, both steady and frantic, vibrating through my entire body. I try to make sense of my surroundings, but everything feels trapped and anchored. Although my senses blur together in a dizzying swirl, the chilling sensation of the stretcher beneath me keeps me tethered to reality.
Voices and murmurs weave together into a distant hum, but the piercing squeak of the wheels beneath me stands out, a sound I can cling to in this overwhelming whirl of noise. Suddenly, the heavy doors groan open and then slam shut, cutting off the overpowering sound from outside. A brief silence follows, only to be broken by a loud, commanding voice.
“Move it, people,” a man barks, urgency evident in his tone. “Get him prepped, and let’s assess those wounds. And get those X-rays started.”
Another voice, softer but equally concerned, adds, “Contact the orthopedic surgeon.”
The mention of surgery sends cold tendrils of fear down my spine. Surgery? My eyelids, heavy and reluctant, fight to stay open. My mouth, parched and battered, struggles to find words, while the metallic taste of blood serves as a bitter reminder of what I’ve been through. Every inch of me aches, but my mind, my mind is fighting another kind of battle: the past.
The past I’ve tried desperately to forget claws its way back to the surface. Memories from nine years ago flood my mind, as vivid and raw as the day it happened. I can still hear the screams, smell the acrid smoke, feel the flames threatening to lick my skin.
No matter how hard I’ve tried to outrun the past, it always catches up, sinking its teeth into my still-open wounds. Nine years later, those memories have lost none of their terrifying clarity—the sounds of panic, the inferno surrounding us, the realization that we wouldn’t escape unscathed.
And then, there’s the image of him. Zane. My best friend. And suddenly it feels like only moments ago we were side by side among the plane’s wreckage, our breaths shaky, and our faces streaked with sweat and blood. I was certain I wouldn’t make it out alive, but I was praying he would live through it all.
“We’ll get out of here,” he had whispered desperately, pinned down and unable to move. “We have to.”
His last words play in my mind. The broken promises after the losses and the bitter ending. And maybe this is just like that movie Final Destination—the survivors picked off one by one no matter how hard they try to cheat fate. If so, then it’s my turn. This must be the agonizing end I somehow evaded over a decade ago.
Zane’s voice pleading for hope haunts me, intertwined with memories of flames and panic. In my mind I’m trapped between the twisted metal and scarlet stains, certain that this is finally it. Death has come to collect me, just like it took the others.
Knowing this might be my last moment, my mind drifts back to her.
The love of my life.
The woman I lost and can never have because life is too fucking cruel.
She was collateral damage, my rose among thorns, the eye of my hurricane.
I can almost conjure her—midnight hair, brown eyes just as dark that pierced my soul. She was a forest fire—beautiful, untamable, and destined to destroy me with her hate.
She continues to be like a dream forever out of reach, always slipping through my grasping fingers no matter how I chase her. Her memory is a bittersweet agony, a ghost I can never recapture.
Even now, I can almost smell her flowery perfume and feel her touch on my skin. She was a dream I chased but could never hold, always dancing just out of reach, leaving me awake with an aching heart and a broken soul.
Her memory is my only comfort now at the end. Of all the things I’ve lost, she is what I mourn most of all.
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Late-night chats
Heartbreak playlists
Nostalgic vibes
Grief, healing, and second chances
Audio narrated by @mallonerin and @jasonclarkereads
What to expect:
Grumpy/Sunshine
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