Brennan Taylor is at the end of his rope, and the busted pipe under his kitchen sink was the last straw. He knows nothing about plumbing, or any of the other things his father says a grown man should know, but lucky for him, he is about to lose it in front of the perfect man to help him.

I have one rule to live by: Don't Date a DILF. I've seen the consequences of blurring the boundaries between teaching life and dating life, and I'm not about to take that kind of risk.

Joey thinks he's broken. I think he's beautiful. Joey's body began betraying him years ago. With his world in chaos, his new friends search for a Daddy to cherish him. When his ex-boss volunteers for the position, Joey panics. Can Daddy Tucker's gentle touch and soothing presence reassure Joey that he can trust him with all his pain, or will fear of being broken beyond repair keep him from the man he's wanted for years? Welcome to The Tap Tavern where this chosen family of boys are braver than they think, and their Daddies are ready to be what they want and so much more.

What’s a straight guy to do when he accidentally goes on a date with his brand new gym-bro? Offer to be the best wingman ever, of course! It’s foolproof. Joey needs a man? I’ll find him one. He wants someone who looks, well, kind of like me? No problem! Not into watersports? I’ve got him covered. The issue is, going on all these dates with Joey makes me realize I want more of his time to be spent with me. I like the guy. And his smile. And the way he makes me feel like anything is possible.

When I left Birchbark angry and heartbroken, I vowed never to return. Fate had other plans. The father I hate had a stroke, so now I'm back in the Upper Peninsula to take care of him. The locals treat Dad like royalty, while Dad vacillates between open anger and flat-out ignoring me. Throw in my messy relationship with my brothers, and being in Birchbark becomes unbearable.

I'm the Grinch who saves Christmas… Yep, you read that right. Every year, I save Christmas—and Christmas Falls—by organizing a massive festival that sustains tourism in our little town. It turns out that when Christmas is your life 24/7, the shine wears off the twinkly lights after a while. The holidays are a heck of a lot of work, and when I go home, I want peace and quiet, not fa-la-la-ing on my porch. That all changes when my sister brings me an early Christmas gift. One I didn't ask for. One that's tall, broad, and handsome...

I was drowning in debt and my sister needed help, so I made a terrible choice. I borrowed money from the infamous Marchesi family, knowing I had no way to pay them back. Did I think I could evade them? Did I think I’d win the lottery? No, I didn’t think at all. I just acted. Now, a killer is at my door, a man known for his ruthlessness, his persistence, and the way he can bring a man to his knees–for business or pleasure. I’ve got to find a way to pay him back, and the only thing I own free and clear is my body.

Raphael has resigned himself to being the matchmaker but never the match. Dating and intimacy are scary, but there’s something about Damien that draws him in. Maybe it’s the lightheartedness that Damien always projects. Maybe it’s his cute horns and dexterous tail. Either way, before Raphael knows it, he’s longing to have Damien as more than just his friend.

"Oh my God, Briar! Where did you get that prosthetic leg?" Things as a parent Lane thought he'd never say for four hundred, Alex. But that's par for the course in Lane Ashbury's life considering everything is on the verge of falling apart. He not only has a toddler building her skills as a professional klepto, but he's also on the verge of divorce, and hoping desperately to save his business before it goes under. Luckily, the owner of the stolen leg might just be an angel in disguise when he offers to be Lane's new nanny instead of pressing charges.

Sometimes I want to punch that smirk off Atlas McCallister's pretty face. He's cocky. A troublemaker. A pain. And, unfortunately, my stepbrother. We've been fire and kerosene since our parents got together, and to keep from exploding into fistfights, we've used challenges, dares, and bets to battle out our differences. Our past bets have been a little inappropriate—scandalous, even—but Atlas's latest bet has gone too far. Do I really believe if he loses, my straight stepbrother is gonna mess around with a guy? And not just any guy: me, his rival and nemesis?

It's official: my step bro is the biggest himbo ever to himbo. He's a massive blond beefcake with a soft heart and an over-eager smile. The mere sight of him incites a shaking hot rage in me. He's everywhere. He's around me all the time. So sweet and gentle that it makes me feel wild. I see him and smell him everywhere. When I can't see him or smell him, I hear him. The wall between our bedrooms is paper thin. I can't help it—I hear what he does in his room when he thinks he's alone. I hear everything.

Being a hitman is the loneliest of jobs. We don't have many friends. Some don't even have family. Lovers? Try explaining to your boyfriend why there's blood on your shirt. Christmas is the worst time to be alone. This year, love is in the cards for me, all thanks to a letter I found in the street. It reads, "Dear Santa, all I want for Christmas is revenge…"

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.

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.

It's just a one-night stand, they said. It'll be simple no-strings fun, they said. They. Lied. I'm done with love and being broken-hearted. The only dogs I want to deal with are the ones I treat in the veterinary clinic I work at. But at 34, having my first one-night stand can't hurt. Right? The rules are pretty simple. But when Haze, the guy I spent a blazing hot night with and haven't been able to forget about, shows up as our new receptionist, the rules fly out the window.