Hockey is in my blood. I learned to skate before I learned how to ride a bike. I’ve been on a wild ride, playing at the highest level for some of the biggest and best teams in the league. But now it’s over, and I’m not sure what to do with myself. So I'm going home to Elmwood. But I’ll tell you what I’m not gonna do—I’m not going to coach my buddy’s junior hockey league. No chance. I don’t know how to deal with kids, and besides, the other coach—who happens to be my best friend’s brother—hates me. With reason.

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.

I thought I had one chance to kiss him, and I blew it. We were 16, and I was an idiot. But now, here he is, standing right in front of me, looking at me with that same expression of awe and adoration that I never lost my addiction to.

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.

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.

The Dean of Admissions at the girls’ dream school says only families with two parents need apply, and in desperation, Grant makes me a different offer: to be his on-paper husband. With things heating up between us and my heart hanging in the balance, how can I convince Grant to make me the proposal I really want: to turn this marriage of convenience into a real-life happily-ever-after?

I’m in control of my life. That has become Burke’s mantra. He lost control somewhere along the way, descending into a downward spiral until he hit rock bottom. Now he’s back, sober, and determined to never be in that position again. Ever. That’s why he loves being a dominant. He’s in charge. He can plan everything into detail. He’s in control. Until he runs into Wander, a private security guy who volunteers to become Burke’s mentor in the club.

Simon just wants to run his antique shop in peace. But then he finds a small mysterious box that’s (probably) haunted, and his shop is broken into by the hottest man he’s ever seen who then steals said creepy box. Now demons are after him and his only hope is to trust the tall, muscled, combat-boot-wearing thief who claims to be the son of a fallen angel.

A long time ago, in a suburban high school not so far away, a closeted nerd (me) and a closeted soccer star (Hutch) fell in love and planned to make their public debut at prom. Until Hutch bailed at the last minute, leaving me with a broken heart and unworn tuxedo. Tale as old as time, right? I spent the past ten years working to forget Hutch, returning to our old high school to teach and make new memories that could erase ones of him. I thought Hutch was ancient history, off living his professional athlete life.

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.

When the light-magic users known as Casters took everything from me, I vowed to make them pay. Little did I know the perfect opportunity would show up in the form of a sweet Caster the moment I took his arrow to the heart…literally. Bastian knows that I’m made of dark magic, the very thing he’s been taught to destroy. But instead of turning away from me, he takes a chance on me, leading me behind the walls of the group out to kill me.

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….

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.

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.

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 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….

I thought I had one chance to kiss him, and I blew it. We were 16, and I was an idiot. But now, here he is, standing right in front of me, looking at me with that same expression of awe and adoration that I never lost my addiction to.

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.

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.

Nick Johnson, a top prospect for a pro hockey team, has a secret: He’s gay. Tired of living in the closet for the sport he loves, he sees no way out. Jacob Meyer’s string of bad boyfriends left him cynical about love. Instead, he focuses on his studies as a third-year law student. With a new job waiting for him, he’s eager to graduate and move on. On a school-sponsored trip, Nick and Jacob meet in a most unexpected way. When Nick tells Jacob his secret, they decide to hang out, just as friends. But their attraction is too strong to ignore, and they soon begin dating.

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.

Toby Andrews is a busy, forgetful, scatterbrained musician with ADHD, a precocious dog named Ruffles, and a bad rep for partying too hard. When Toby’s actions put an all-important contract with a large label in jeopardy, his manager sarcastically suggests the omega needs a keeper who'll redden his bottom if he steps out of line. Toby is intrigued, so when he sees an ad for a discreet company called Rent-a-Dom while scrolling his social media page, he impulsively sends a request for a Daddy Dom to help him stay on track.

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.

Polyamory. The first time Riot says the word, it feels like everything slots into place. Maybe I’m not greedy for loving both of my best friends at once. For most of my life I didn’t think I could ever have the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of, but somehow a sexy bartender with a major sweet tooth is making it all seem possible. Maybe Riot is right, our capacity for love is bigger than most people let themselves see. But will Leo and Hudson feel the same? Will they be willing to try to build this beautiful, complicated life with me?

Is it really wrong to want to murder your boss? Dylan has worked for Gabe for two years. Two long years of sarcastic comments. Two long years of insults, and having to redo the coffee pot four times in the mornings to meet his exacting standards. Not surprisingly he has devoted a lot of time to increasingly inventive ways to murder Gabe. From stabbing him with a cake fork, to garrotting him with his expensive tie, Dylan has thought of everything. However, a chance encounter opens his eyes to the attraction that has always lain between them, concealed by the layers of antipathy.

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.

After years of drowning myself in parties, hookups, and pain, all it takes is one viral sex tape to be given a choice: Hide out on an island or lose my trust fund. Having to share a room with the one man I let hurt me is my worst nightmare. I’m the broken shell of the boy he walked away from on the worst day of my life. I hate him almost as much as I hate myself.

College freshman Parker Osborne is having the worst day ever. He humiliated himself trying to pick up a cute guy, he hasn't made any friends at school, and his stupidly hot jerk of a TA gave him a crappy grade on his paper. He's going to drop Adam Hawkins' film class and start fresh tomorrow after he's had a good sulk. But Parker's about to find out what a bad day really looks like - if he can survive the night. A virus is unleashed, transforming infected people into zombielike killers.

Hudson Montgomery. He hates me. Eh, no breaking news there. If anything, his hate only fuels my desire to provoke the pompous bastard at every opportunity. So when the chance to publish the most scandalous book of the year comes down to our companies, I'm determined to do whatever I have to in order to take Hudson down.

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.