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.

The last thing I want is another relationship or another broken heart. All I need are my bees and the occasional hookup to scratch the itch. Okay, maybe meeting up with my hot contractor weekly is a little more than occasional. And maybe the way I’m starting to feel about the guy I’ve been anonymously chatting with online should concern me. But CaulkyAF doesn’t want to meet, and Cole doesn’t want anything serious, so what’s the worst that could happen?

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.

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.

Lewis. Clingy, needy, Too Much. Just a few choice words from men who never deserved me anyway. I'm not going to make the same mistakes again though. I plan to ride the motorcycle hottie of my dreams just until we both get bored. Besides, who has time for anything but a quick fling when the jerks at the tattoo shop next door insist on doing everything they can to annoy the hell out of me with some stupid prank war?

If I had to choose one word to describe my new cocky costar, it’d be exasperating. Nikolas Adamos may look like a Greek god—and he certainly struts around like he knows it—but unlike everyone else, I refuse to fall prey to his charms. Unfortunately for me, Niko and I get paired to do a series of lovey-dovey boyfriend videos for our employers at Elite 8 Studios. And when you film the sort of scenes we do, up close and personal takes on a whole new meaning.

Being a lifelong Chicago Thunder fan, I know that Blaine Olsen is trouble. Because all hockey players are. He's a notorious playboy, and I refuse to be another notch on his bedpost. But when he shows me the part of himself he keeps hidden, it gets harder to resist him.

I’m such a cliché. Rich, successful… and bored out of my mind. A classic case of a midlife crisis probably, but instead of buying an expensive sports car, I go on a long business trip to Australia. Alone. I haven’t trusted myself to be with anyone since my best friend betrayed me, leaving me bleeding and heartbroken. Until a gorgeous surfer dude named Ocean falls into my lap. Literally. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Bossy, carefree, and somehow, he reads me like an open book. I agree to him staying with me in Melbourne so we can have a fling. With me in charge, obviously.

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.

After years of working my butt off, I'm finally living the life I always wanted. I have a job I love, friends who've become family, and I'm enjoying the freedom of being single. Then Sebastian, my childhood rival, moves back to town, and my perfect life is thrown into chaos. We've always hated each other, but now there's something else between us. Something wild and primal. Something that wants to make Sebastian submit as much as it wants to claim him.

I did something stupid. Something needlessly, hopelessly stupid, and now my past is catching up with me. I knew when I saw that cash, I should have left it alone, but I needed it. And doesn’t the world owe me a little bit of luck? A little reprieve from the constant BS? Sorry. I can’t help but to rant about my situation because the truth is that I am royally screwed. You see, I stole money from the mob. One stupid decision made in the heat of the moment, and now I’m running for my life.

Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but the hot guy next door totally gives off serial killer vibes. Why else would he know how long it takes to bleed out from a wound? Yeah, ok, so I asked, but it was research. Being an author definitely makes for some odd questions (someone had better clear my browser history when I die, that's all I'm saying). It's not like I'm stalking my hot neighbor or anything—there's nothing wrong with watching him out my window. Although I might have my own stalker (and not the cute harmless kind), which is kind of terrifying.

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.

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….

Proposing to my first boyfriend at a hockey game wasn’t my smartest move. Not only does said boyfriend walk out on me, but the whole stupid thing goes viral, and it turns out the man I was dating has too many boyfriends to count. Internet fame has crowned me a member of the Jilted Exes’ Club, a name I’d do anything to escape. One thing’s for sure: I’m not making the same mistake again. No more boyfriends, just easy hookups. And I’ll start with this gorgeous catch in Seattle. The only problem…he’s a god in bed, and I’m an inexperienced mess.