Sam reminds me of the horses we rescue. Scarred, skittish, and…strong. Beautiful. He’s a bit of a hat-stealer, and, truth be told, I’m a little leery of his chosen profession. The things he does in front of a camera...well, it makes me blush just thinkin' about it. But if that scar on his face is any indication, he could use somebody at his back. I aim to be that person. And yeah, some of my parts get confused by the fact that he’s all delicate and sparkly, but that’s not important. Even if the good hand lotion has somehow made it into the tack room.

Hating Justin Jennings should be a lot easier than this. He nearly ruined my life, and I swore when I left town that I’d become the opposite of him in every possible way. I’ve kept that promise, traveling the world to save the people who cannot save themselves. The lost, the trafficked, the stolen. This work is my life’s mission, and now my father has given me the land to expand my operations.

I just told off my billionaire CEO in front of the entire company, and it was totally worth it. Do I care that a viral video of our exchange sent his stocks into freefall? Nope. Am I going to help Rand Wolfe rehab his company’s reputation? Not a chance in hell. There’s just one problem: I’m the bastard son of a mafia don, a fact Wolfe finds out the hard way when he tracks me down at the docks. Saving his life puts a mafia-style extradition order on my head, and the only place to hide is his high-rise penthouse.

Everett: There are a ton of reasons why falling for my tiny, adorkable best friend is a terrible idea - starting with the body in my trunk. I have other reasons - he still mourns his late husband. I’m way older, he’s a foot shorter, my tattoo shop is a front, he’s an assistant professor at UT. Still, I can’t help but think we’d be perfect for each other if I didn’t kill people (very, very bad people) for a living.

What's the first rule of running a gym by and for combat vets? Enjoy the scorching hot scenery, but get your kicks somewhere else. Never mind that my cousin-slash-business partner ignores that rule every chance he gets. I don't ignore it. Ever. And frankly, between Grindr, and living in one of the gayest cities in America, it's not exactly a hardship. That is, until a pair of blue eyes, swimming with vulnerability, shows up at my door, looking for a job. He's too skinny, too mouthy, and way too young for the likes of me, but he pings that protector instinct in me - hard.

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....

The job at Sunday Orchard was supposed to be temporary. A chance to gain some work experience, to have some fun. I had not expected to be welcomed into a family of gorgeous and weirdly efficient lumberjack-types, or to find purpose in the tiny Vermont town whose claim to fame seemed to be apple-based products and copious amounts of charm. And I most definitely hadn’t expected to fall for Knox Sunday, my grumpy, burly, fifteen-years-older, reluctant roommate, with his infuriating lectures, his hot-as-fire body, his superior attitude - I’ve never been one to put down roots.

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.

As a founding member of The Vers, a queer podcast I host with my three best friends, I’m "The Loner"—quieter than the others, and except for them, I don’t let myself get too close to people. Most of them just let you down anyway, or maybe it’s just that something about me chases people away.

I hired Ben under false pretenses. He may think I don’t know who he truly is, but I do. Even so, I'm tempted to trust him. His family may be full of con artists, but Ben is too innocent for his own good. Trustworthy or not, I'm going to keep him in my sights.

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.

Coming back home with my tail between my legs after a bitter divorce and a failed business venture isn’t exactly the life I’d envisioned for myself. At least there’s Bennett. Strong and steady as always, even if there is a simmering anger in him that wasn’t there when we were boys.

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….

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.