Maximoff Hale is a force of nature. A ship unwilling to be steered. Headstrong, resilient, and wholly responsible - the 22-year-old alpha billionaire can handle his unconventional life. Born into one of the most famous families in the country, his celebrity status began at birth. He is certified American royalty. When he's assigned a new 24/7 bodyguard, he comes face-to-face with the worst case scenario: being attached to the tattooed, MMA-trained, Yale graduate who's known for "going rogue" in the security team - and who fills 1/3 of Maximoff's sexual fantasies.

Call me what you want: Bad Boy Next Door. Trouble. That Kid Who Can’t Do Anything Right. When Willow moves into my neighborhood, nothing should have happened. She’s geeky. Shy. A true wallflower. Willow is a good girl. Too good for me. And how the hell was I supposed to know that she’s related to Loren Hale - yeah, that douchebag celebrity that lives on my street. The same guy I've been pranking by spray painting vulgar words on his mailbox and worse. Much worse. I'm cursed. Simple as that. People who are cursed break everything they touch. And yet...I still want to touch her.

Tourists flock to Mistpoint Harbor to snap photos of the famous lighthouse, browse the Museum of Curses & Curiosities, and claim their “I survived the Most Cursed Town in America!” pin. But for me, growing up in Mistpoint Harbor wasn’t a vacation. Not when locals have a deep-seated loathing for my family. They hate my dad. They hate my older brothers. And they hate me—Zoey Durand, the girl who shrunk in high school at the taunts and jeers. Like a sad wilted flower. If it wasn't for October Brambilla, life would've been a real living hell.

The best aerial technique won't land 21-year-old Thora James her dream role in Amour, a sexy new acrobatic show on the Vegas strip. Thora knows she's out of her element the second she meets Amour's leading performer. Confident, charming, and devilishly captivating, 26-year-old Nikolai Kotova lives up to his nickname as the "God of Russia". When Thora unknowingly walks into the crosshairs of Nikolai's after-show, her audition process begins way too soon.

Relationships are complex. Love is ever-changing. And when it comes to rules of the heart, they were made to be broken. That's what Robert Antonio Bianchi was telling himself, anyway. Otherwise, he really had no excuse for what - or who - he'd done. If there was a bad decision to be made, Robbie always had a knack for making it. And thus, begins the story of the priest, the princess, and the prick.

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.

When it comes to hockey, I'm all about the game. I've worked for years to be one of the best in the league, and l've done it without splashing my orientation all over the tabloids. My hockey image is one I've carefully cultivated, and after one night with Ezra Palaszczuk, I risk it all. He's cocky, obnoxious, and has an ego bigger than Massachusetts. And okay, maybe he's the sexiest man I've ever known. We'll never get along. Not when we sleep together. Not even when my possessive streak awakens. That doesn't stop us from falling into bed together over and over again.

In my defense, I was left alone with a bottle of single-malt and a lifelong penchant for protecting my baby sister. Still, that's no excuse to send 10 drunk-texts on why her hasty marriage would be a mistake. If only I had just texted my sister. But nope. I accidentally sent the message to her, her groom, and his super hot wingman. I also used the phrase “super hot wingman”, so I’d like to die now.

I’m never one to turn down a bet. Especially not when it comes to retaliating against the dean for pulling a dick move before summer break. So when the dean’s golden child arrives at Astor for his freshman year, my fellow troublemakers throw down a wager I can’t resist. The target: the dean’s son, John Thomas Hawthorne, or “JT”. The bet: corruption in any way I choose. It should’ve been easy. With his mess of brown curls, pouty lips, and good-boy reputation, JT is the perfect revenge. And even better? He’s straight.

Once upon a time, the sexy, witty Brit was just that hot guy I met my first day in London. Then, it turned out we were sharing a flat. But living that close to the most charming man I’d ever met was one step away from falling in love with him. Newsflash–I fell. Hard and fast into a swoony, epic romance that felt like something out of a movie...

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. Friends don't bang friends. I want my friends to stay in my life, especially that flirty, clever, outgoing best friend of mine. It's a darn good thing Owen and I made a pact in college to never ever sleep together, or else I'd be tempted. Trouble is, eight years later, I've been wondering what his kisses taste like. And I've been curious if our chemistry would extend into the bedroom. If he might feel the same risky pull. But I don't want to lose Owen.

10 years after leaving his small Minnesota hometown in his rear view mirror for what Nolan Grainger was sure would be the last time, life has decided to throw the talented musician a curveball and send him back to the town he lived in but was never really home. When he’s forced to use the last of his own money to keep from losing the family home, desperation has him turning to the one man he’d hoped never to see again....

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.

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.

Conor: It starts with a drunken text pic. The kind I would normally never send. Only, instead of it going to the flirty hotel bartender, it goes to some random stranger who actually responds. Wells: The first thing I notice about Conor Newell when he sits down in my high-rise conference room is how delightfully nervous he is. Then I see his tie. The same geeky tie that’s held hostage on my phone. The one that belongs to my anonymous late-night texter. And it changes everything.