Patricia L. Starling

He’s the world’s most alpha Marine and the last man I should be letting jingle my bells this holiday season. But when Clint steps in to rescue me - from a murderous goose, a rogue reindeer, and the ghost of Christmas Right Now causing trouble in my bakery - I can’t help but wonder if we’re meant to be more than friends.

Remember that time you accidentally sexted your in-laws? Yeah. I just did that. Except worse. Now my million social media followers are reading and sharing the rude, smartass message I meant to send privately to my little sister...and I'm officially public enemy number one. I'm Beck Ryder. Former boy bander. Underwear model. Fashion mogul. And I just buried my entire leg in my mouth - not just my foot - modern internet style, and publicly insulted my sister's neighbor.

The world’s sexiest firefighter is about to get a second chance with the virgin next door.... He’s bossy, arrogant, and so ridiculously hot that he should come with a warning label and a pair of flame-retardant coveralls. He’s also the boy who broke my heart when we were in high school. I want to move in next door to Ryan O’Dell the way I want to be the virgin gamer geek suddenly in charge of running my sister’s sex-toy factory. Too bad both are written in my stars.

Mission: Survive my best friend's wedding, where I must play nice with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend. Strategy: Bring the hottest fake boyfriend on the planet. Target: Grady Rock. Master baker. Dimples. Muscles. The unicorn of fake boyfriends. Complication: Wyatt Morgan. My brother's best friend. My sworn enemy. Military man. Sexy as hell single dad. The man I let into my panties for one night of hot hate sex after my ex dumped me.

There are three things I hate: Bratwurst in any form, my neighbors boinking like farm animals at 3 AM, and Chase Jett. Mostly I hate Chase Jett. It's been 10 years since he took my virginity - I'd make a bratwurst joke, but the unfortunate truth is that it would have to be a brat-best joke, and yes, it kills me to admit that - and now he's not only a billionaire, he's also my new boss.

There are two kinds of women in the world - those I can bang, and those I can’t. My teammate’s sister? She’s a can’t. I moved in with her to protect her from a nasty ex, not to be the next guy in line. She’s the brains. I’m the brawn. She’s the fruit. I’m the sausage. She talks too much. I don’t talk at all, if I don’t have to. Should be easy to resist her.

Willa Iscove, fae jeweler, has her first stalker. Really, he's just one of her lovesick customers. The ring she crafted to help him find new love has backfired, making Willa the object of his affections. In a bid to rid herself of her amorous client, Willa makes a wish in the Nocturne Falls fountain using the piece of opal in her pocket and in doing so, unknowingly conscripts as her guardian the sexy gargoyle on duty.

I'm the last son. The one who doesn't matter. I was never meant to inherit my family's wealth, but my brother's gutless betrayal left me as the one holding the bigger fortune. Now, with money to my name and the looks to match, women see me. They want me. But they don't know me. I savor a very specific kind of leisure pursuit. I buy women to lock them up and make them submit to my will. But this time, I want the real thing. Real fear, real submission. Someone special, who doesn't play a role.

Vampires aren't supposed to feel anything beyond hunger and bloodlust, but Viktor still feels a whole lot. He hates what he's become, but there's no escape. Not from the dying city smothering him, or from his maker, an arrogant tyrant who demands absolute loyalty. Ketha's a shifter and a seer, for all the good it does her. Not enough magic is left to power much of anything. In a rare victory, an image forms in her glass, and she understands how magic broke the world - and how to fix it. The only antidote is an alliance with vampires, but she can't convince anyone to cooperate.