I never thought a night out could change everything. All I wanted was to dance, drink, maybe take a cute guy home for a night of fun. I met the guy, but the night ended as a nightmare. Screams and blood and tragedy haunt my dreams. I'm alive and I owe it all to the gorgeous marine who refused to leave me for dead. But how can I start a new relationship when I'm not even sure who I am anymore?

Between running a garage full of beefed-up gear-head mechanics and bailing my idiot brother out of trouble every other week, the last thing I have time for is a relationship. I’ve tried it too many times, and the ridiculous reasons I always find to end it have become a running joke around the garage. But I’ve learned my lesson. No. More. Boyfriends. I don’t care how many times Porter falls asleep drunk in my bed or how cute he looks covered in oil smears while I teach him how to fix up the vintage car he has rusting away in his garage; I’m not going to fall for him.

I'm a list person. Lists make sense, they give a chaotic, unpredictable world order. Realizing I was gay at 30 definitely wasn't on my list. I guess I need a new list….

We haven't spoken in 15 years, and Marlon is the last person I expected to run into in a bar on Bourbon Street. He's not my gangly internet pen pal anymore; he's all muscles, body hair, and temptation. Our friendship feels like it never faded, but the heat between us is brand-new. We're both in different cities every few weeks, hustling to build our careers and soaking up all the perks of being young, hot, and untethered. But our paths seem to be crossing more and more often.

When half your face is covered in a big, blotchy birthmark, you get used to the staring and the whispers. You get used to feeling unwanted. Until he walks into my bar.... Tall, gorgeous, and all kinds of out of place. And the way he looks at me ain’t like no way I've ever seen before.

All my life, I’ve dreamed of one thing: the perfect movie moment. I want a man and his boombox outside my window; I want kissing in the rain; I want a romantic hero who will take my breath away. Switching mail with my cute neighbor didn’t work. Swapping coffee with a hottie at the coffee shop just got the poor barista yelled at. And bus guy? Total bust. I’m starting to wonder if Hollywood got the whole meet-cute thing wrong. Sacrilege, I know. Is it possible the perfect leading man has been living in the apartment above me the entire time, playing the role of my best friend?

I’m everyone’s friend, but no one’s everything...I love working for Ballsy Boys, but when you make the kind of videos I do, relationships are pretty damn impossible. Guys find me sexy and want to either be with me or be me, but no one has ever cared enough to see the real me. Until I meet Troy...who shows up in a banana suit at my door. Long story.

Austin never realized he was painting his life with shades of gray, until Keaton came along and injected a rainbow of color. Keaton is a tornado of chaos and paint, which turns out to be more exciting than I ever would’ve imagined. I love my organized, predictable life...or at least I thought I did. But what started as a casual hookup is slowly becoming so much more, and I find myself loving the beautiful mess more than I expected. Can two people so different really make it work once feelings get involved?

Saying I've had a crush on my best friend's older brother, Pax, most of my life is like saying the big bang was just an explosion. It's true, but I'm not sure that quite captures the essence of its true enormity. I don't think my advanced physics knowledge is going to help me figure this one out. But I think for once I'm okay with not knowing, as long as Pax and I don't know together.

Charles Preston Carmichael is the most infuriating man I've ever met. I want to sock the golden boy of college hockey right in the mouth. He enjoys telling me everything I'm messing up—publicly. And since he's my roommate for the next year, I can't avoid him. Yet there's something about him that makes me watch him. Something dark. A secret I want to uncover. When he returns from a weekend away, broken and haunted, I can't keep my distance anymore. He needs someone, and I'll be damned if it's not me.

My name is Hudson Newgate, but my teammates call me "New Guy". That was my nickname in Chicago, too. And Vancouver. That’s what happens when you keep getting traded. Brooklyn is my last chance, especially after my poor performance last season.

Being invited to my cousin’s wedding really shouldn’t be a big deal except, oh yeah, I haven't seen my family for a decade. My parents turned their backs on me, and I’ve done everything since to become successful and show them what they've lost. Only it’s kinda hard to be a success when you’re a walking trainwreck.

Payne. In search of: Room to rent. Must ignore the patheticness of a 40-year-old roommate. Preferably dirt cheap as funds are tight (nonexistent). There’s nothing sadder than moving back to my hometown newly divorced, homeless, and lost for what my next move is. When my little brother’s best friend offers me a place to stay in exchange for menial duties, I swallow my pride and jump at the offer. I need this. I also need Beau to wear a shirt. And ditch the gray sweatpants. And not leave his door ajar when he’s in compromising positions...

Military life is all I’ve known since I was born. But when a top-secret mission fails, I find myself suddenly discharged with nowhere to go. Mike Bravo saved my life, and they want me to join them, but there’s one small problem. Isaac “Iris” Griffin. He’s as irresistibly snarky as he always was, only there’s a big difference this time. I’m no longer closeted or scared to live my truth. And the truth is, I’ve always wanted him. It’s against Mike Bravo’s rules to fraternize with other team members. But something tells me Iris might be worth the insubordination.

My loser high school friend never deserved him anyway. If I’d had the chance, I would have locked Remy down years ago. Only, when the party leads to a drunken kiss, going on their honeymoon, and sharing their marital bed, I have to say, I’m not entirely sad that their wedding went up in flames.

Between running a garage full of beefed-up gear-head mechanics and bailing my idiot brother out of trouble every other week, the last thing I have time for is a relationship. I’ve tried it too many times, and the ridiculous reasons I always find to end it have become a running joke around the garage. But I’ve learned my lesson. No. More. Boyfriends. I don’t care how many times Porter falls asleep drunk in my bed or how cute he looks covered in oil smears while I teach him how to fix up the vintage car he has rusting away in his garage; I’m not going to fall for him.

I never thought a night out could change everything. All I wanted was to dance, drink, maybe take a cute guy home for a night of fun. I met the guy, but the night ended as a nightmare. Screams and blood and tragedy haunt my dreams. I'm alive and I owe it all to the gorgeous marine who refused to leave me for dead. But how can I start a new relationship when I'm not even sure who I am anymore?

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.

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.

A beach vacay with my best bud since college seems like the perfect opportunity to relax, catch some rays, and enjoy a couple of nights on the town. When I find a girl who's eager to mess around with me, I figure I've got it made. Then, I meet the intense, hot-as-hell, tattooed Eric Westright, who wrecks my world...in the best possible way. He awakens something within me - something that's always been here, but that's never pulled so powerfully...not until I looked into those solemn blue eyes and felt the red-hot spark of his touch.

When half your face is covered in a big, blotchy birthmark, you get used to the staring and the whispers. You get used to feeling unwanted. Until he walks into my bar.... Tall, gorgeous, and all kinds of out of place. And the way he looks at me ain’t like no way I've ever seen before.

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.

Flower deliveryman and aspiring novelist Matthew Darcy never expected to become the object of anyone's affection, let alone attract the attention of someone like billionaire Calvin Croft. In fact, two men couldn't live more different lives than Matt and Cal. But romance has a magical way of making opposites attract.

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.

Opposites attract in this fun prequel novella set during an unexpected Tennessee snowstorm. Enjoy forced-proximity and enemies-to-lovers tropes as this brand new couple finds love among the zany, meddling residents of our beloved Licking Thicket.

Ben. I’m about to start my senior year of high school, and I don’t see that cycle changing any time soon. I’ve spent most of my life just trying to make it one more day, a precarious war in my head—one I was barely winning. But then he forced his way in and showed me what I was missing. Damon. I’m careless, and I probably shouldn’t have gone out of my way to hook up with a very pretty, very straight boy. His bright eyes drill into me in a desperate attempt to dive inside, but what he doesn’t know is that would be the worst decision of his life.

At 12, he was my best friend. At 16, he became my crush. And now, at 34, he’s the man I’m still pining after. Falling in love with Easton was never part of the plan. But now that I’ve done it, I can’t seem to stop. It doesn’t help that we’re living under the same roof. Or that Easton is so dang sweet I want to lick him from head to toe.

He's a bad man, and I don't mean trash like your ex. I mean seriously bad. I mean dangerous. You can tell just by looking at him: black eyes, a menacing scowl, and a nose that's been badly broken in the past. He is my arch-nemesis. My mortal enemy. My singular obsession. I was afraid of him when we met. He kidnapped and chained me to a bed. Me—Damon Alexander Beckett of BeckIT fame and fortune. Well, the joke's on him because I'm going to make it my life's mission to destroy him. But first, I have to survive being his captive.

Caelan James should've known better than to let a dating app set him up on a blind date. Nothing in life was guaranteed-perfect, especially not guys, and most definitely not guys in the immediate vicinity of tiny O'Leary, New York. But then, sexy Navy SEAL Ash Martin walked into Cal's bakery, and made him wonder if fate might have cooked up something sweet for him after all.

Payne. In search of: Room to rent. Must ignore the patheticness of a 40-year-old roommate. Preferably dirt cheap as funds are tight (nonexistent). There’s nothing sadder than moving back to my hometown newly divorced, homeless, and lost for what my next move is. When my little brother’s best friend offers me a place to stay in exchange for menial duties, I swallow my pride and jump at the offer. I need this. I also need Beau to wear a shirt. And ditch the gray sweatpants. And not leave his door ajar when he’s in compromising positions...