Sascha has always felt powerless, the weak baby of a cruel family. But that’s fine. He has his looks, his ample allowance, and a smattering of one-night stands to keep him busy. But when Sascha’s oldest brother offends the wrong people, Sascha finds himself in hiding with a target on his back. And when poking around in his temporary home leads to accidentally summoning the hottest demon Sascha could ever imagine, he has to ask himself: does he want to feel powerless anymore?

Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but the hot guy next door totally gives off serial killer vibes. Why else would he know how long it takes to bleed out from a wound? Yeah, ok, so I asked, but it was research. Being an author definitely makes for some odd questions (someone had better clear my browser history when I die, that's all I'm saying). It's not like I'm stalking my hot neighbor or anything—there's nothing wrong with watching him out my window. Although I might have my own stalker (and not the cute harmless kind), which is kind of terrifying.

Accidentally throwing a jug of Sex on the Beach onto the hottest guy at drag brunch was not how I wanted to start my performance, and forgetting to ask for his name was the cherry on top. But when he finds me online and invites me out for drinks, it seems like my chaotic shenanigans might have worked out for once. Falling into bed with West is easy, but balancing a gorgeous, rugby player boyfriend with a day job and drag is harder than dancing in eight inch heels.

Accepting my career in the Army is over after losing my leg is hard. But the obnoxious, good looking, glass-half-full surfer in my physical therapy sessions is worse. And god help him if he doesn’t stop trying to give me advice. Living in a home with three of my closest veteran buddies is a challenge as we all have our crosses to bear and wounds to heal from, but mine only seem to be getting deeper with every step forward I take. I already have to adjust to a new life as a civilian. I don’t need a sexuality crisis to go with it.

Moving back to Heather Bay wasn’t on Oliver’s agenda for the summer, but after inheriting a cottage in dire need of renovation, he doesn’t have much choice. Supervising the builders should be easy…except the man in charge is Oliver’s childhood best friend and ex-boyfriend. Lane’s spent nine years desperately trying to forget his first love, but that doesn’t stop him from fantasizing about Oliver in every spare moment once he discovers Oliver’s back in town. Falling into bed together isn’t supposed to mean anything, even if Lane’s emotions feel too big to be ignored.

What's a superhero to do when his own family sees his powers as unimpressive and he's fifth in line for the throne? Set my sights on getting space married to a hot alien, of course! For science. Ziggy Andromeda is a skinsuit-stealing mercenary who's so far out of my league, he might as well be in another galaxy, but there's nothing I love more than a challenge. And his spaceship has only one bed! Unfortunately, a home planet conspiracy is threatening our besties-with-benefits situationship, along with my dream of putting a Saturn-sized ring on it and locking Ziggy down for good. Rude.

Big City is supposedly the place where dreams come true. As someone just trying to live my life, I can tell you it’s more like a recurring nightmare where dreams get c*ckblocked at every turn. Especially if you’re a supervillain like me. The irony is that I have zero powers, despite coming from purebred villain stock, but try telling that to Big City’s beloved hero, Captain Masculine.

Weirdly, people don’t react overly well when you’re caught standing over the dead body of a murderer who’d walked free. It’s not that I thought my fellow homicide detective would rejoice when he saw what I’d done, but is a pat on the back too much to ask for? Maybe a gold star at the very least? The problem is that the person who caught me is Gabriel, the only person I care for and adore… and he’s prepared to look the other way if I leave homicide and promise to never kill again.

PerryI moved to San Luco to get to know my brother, and so far, it’s been great. Working as a bartender at Shenanigans, a bar close to Franklin University, there are beautiful men and women everywhere. When a hot guy falls into my arms at a party, I’m down for some naughty fun. Until I realize he’s way too drunk for anything to happen. Thankfully, we agree to meet up the next day. One near-kiss later, I discover Theo has no idea I’ve been hitting on him. He thinks we’re hanging out as buddies, and to my great regret, says he’s straight.

Living in Christmas Town doesn’t make me a fan of the holidays. Quite the opposite. In fact, eleven months out of the year, I’m perfectly happy running my bookstore in peace and quiet. Of course, that changes in December when it’s mistletoe madness and mayhem. Ugh. But this year, there’s a new cowboy in town and it’s not as easy to grumble about…anything. I admit, Hudson is handsome and hunky, but everyone knows I’m not myself till January, so he’ll have to buzz off and charm someone else.

The emo kid, the loner, the cynical wallflower with an attitude. It's no secret that I've never quite fit in. But it's glaringly obvious now that I've moved to this Podunk small town that seems to run entirely on sugar, friendliness, and cheer. (And cows, an ungodly number of cows.) I hate it—this place where everyone knows everyone, and I'm still the outsider. Who wants to fit in anyway? I've never really tried, never even thought I wanted to…until I met him. Jimbob is living his best life out here, farming the fields of Kansas, well and truly happy. And I just don't get it.

All people see when they look at me is a beautiful man, a supermodel, half of the world’s most famous twins. No one sees the man underneath. When I return to Forestville, the small town I grew up in, for my high school reunion, I impulsively decide to stay.

Though I was born with the ability to see the dead, I struggled with it until my brother was killed and his ghost was left behind. Now, I’m determined to figure out who is responsible for his death…the problem is that Detective Maddox Booker, the one working the case, is a grumpy and stubborn man who wants nothing to do with me and definitely doesn’t believe in ghosts. It doesn’t help that I keep finding myself looking ridiculous in front of the detective, thanks to interfering ghosts who enjoy laughing at my expense.

Devlin “Dev” Espinosa lives in the shadows of the criminal underworld. As a Ferryman, his job is to safely transport “the dead” to their new lives, no questions asked. With no one to answer to, lots of cash, and access to The Anonymous–an exclusive club for the elite–Dev is loving life. Until Remy Corbin gets into his car. Remy is just a regular guy working a regular bartending job. At least, that’s what he thought before walking in on his boss taking someone out. Witnessing the assassination paints a target on Remy’s back, and when the bullets fly, he jumps into a stranger’s car.

Ferryman. The Grim Reaper. La Muerte. La Pelona. Shinigami. Charon. I've been called many names over the millennia, all thanks to my role in Hell—ferrying dead souls over the river Styx. Few know the demon behind the legend, how I came to be here, or the freedom I sacrificed to save the man I love.

Lana Fleming’s sister has vanished from the set of TV’s hottest show, and no one seems to care. Desperate for answers, Lana sneaks in as an extra, only to get stranded with Griffin Hart, an A-list action star with a reputation for good abs and bad decisions. Though Griffin didn’t expect to be cast as a librarian’s sidekick in a real-life thriller, he’s weirdly into it—and into her. Even more unsettling—she sees right through his playboy persona. But their meet-cute soon turns deadly when they uncover a Hollywood scandal for the ages.

It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and Charlotte and Seth are not looking for romance. Armed with emotional-support bear spray, Charlotte is in self-imposed isolation and on guard from men. Having a stalker can do that to a person’s nerves. Just across the hall and giving off woodsy vibes is Seth, a recently divorced arborist. As in today recently. Heights, he’s fine with. Trust? Not so much.

Lowen Ashleigh is a struggling writer on the brink of financial ruin when she accepts the job offer of a lifetime. Jeremy Crawford, husband of best-selling author Verity Crawford, has hired Lowen to complete the remaining books in a successful series his injured wife is unable to finish. Lowen arrives at the Crawford home, ready to sort through years of Verity's notes and outlines, hoping to find enough material to get her started. What Lowen doesn't expect to uncover in the chaotic office is an unfinished autobiography Verity never intended for anyone to read.

Liv’s happy with life in her thirties. She has two cats, one BFF, and no boyfriend, which is just how she likes it. Plus, she loves working at a not-for-profit software company where she can be her authentically autistic self. This is her happy ever after. But when her beloved firm merges with a repulsive rival, Liv finds herself competing with her sort-of-ex for the top job. Sure, Finn had been Liv’s best friend, with his nerdy good looks and their shared love of Tolkien, but there was that one night, their song, and … well, she doesn’t like to talk about it.

Meet Randi Burnett—she’s brilliant, she’s beautiful, and she works for the bride. Missing groom? Intoxicated in-laws? Crying ring-bearer? You name it, she wrangles it. Too bad her personal life isn’t thriving like her side gig as a bridesmaid for hire. Recently dumped, Randi throws herself into her biggest challenge yet when she’s hired as a maid of honor and pretend best friend for an ice queen bride. There’s just one problem—the best man is infuriating, overprotective, and anti-marriage.