What happens when drunken idiots, aka your friends, use a silly drinking game to sideswipe you and your BFF with the truth bomb that you're actually in love with each other? Truman: You impulsively kiss the best friend you've been in love with for ages . . . then wake up with a hangover—and regrets. Lyle: You freak out because you're not gay or bi, before realizing the kiss wasn't *actually* bad. Then you begin to wonder . . . should we do it again?

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 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.

Payne. In search of: Room to rent. Must ignore the patheticness of a 40-year-old roommate. Preferably dirt cheap as funds are tight (nonexistent). There’s nothing sadder than moving back to my hometown newly divorced, homeless, and lost for what my next move is. When my little brother’s best friend offers me a place to stay in exchange for menial duties, I swallow my pride and jump at the offer. I need this. I also need Beau to wear a shirt. And ditch the gray sweatpants. And not leave his door ajar when he’s in compromising positions...

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.

Kyran Harbor is everything I'm not. Rich. Popular. A superstar football player who's awfully broody for someone who has it all. Basically, he's a preppy jock who hates me. Oh, and he's also my stepbrother. That's right. We're stuck together, sharing a school, a house, a bathroom. Honestly I wouldn't care if he wasn't such an uptight control freak who messes with me just because we're different. I had every intention of avoiding him when we got to college. Until abrupt misfortune forces us both into a compromising position.

Ever since we met two years ago, Eden Burkehammer has made everything better. The big defenseman sets me at ease. He’s a beast on the ice—brutal and physical—but when it’s the two of us, he turns to me with these unexpectedly soft brown eyes. This gravelly laugh that makes my whole body smile. And yeah, I might have thrown a glance his way a time or two in the steamed-up locker room showers—you know, just curious. But he’s my best friend. My teammate. Roommate. I don’t want to mess with that. Just the thought of losing him sends a cold zap the full length of my spine.

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 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.

Noah: Rook Oliveira stumbled into my life when I was eleven years old. Being the scrawny new kid at school with a mouth full of braces, I never expected to become unlikely best friends with the most popular boy in seventh grade. At eighteen, I gathered the courage to tell him I was gay and admitted I'd never kissed a guy. He offered to be my first. Straight or not, that kiss had burned with nearly tangible fire and tattooed the moment on my heart. I've spent the last four years trying to forget it.

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.

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.

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 path to success never included an enemy as a teammate, especially one as infuriating as Quinton de Haas. Clawing under my skin is his favorite pastime, only feeding the animosity between us as the years pass. We’re as completely opposite as two people can be; the golden boy and the black sheep. Constantly at odds or at each other’s throats. The only thing we can agree on is hockey is our true love, and we’ll do whatever it takes to come out on top. I never imagined that drive would lead me to do the unthinkable: falling into bed with my not-so-straight rival.

I like to party; to have a good time. Life’s too short not to. I learned that when I lost my grandpa. He told me to have fun while I can, and I intend to. Though sometimes when you’re having a good time, you forget others may see you as irresponsible. And sometimes you screw up. I’ve definitely screwed up a time or two, but I’m still determined to have fun. I’m hoping I’ll convince my best friend, Camden, to do the same along the way. He’s too serious. Too focused. Too busy taking care of everyone to just relax. And that’s where I come in.

What happens when drunken idiots, aka your friends, use a silly drinking game to sideswipe you and your BFF with the truth bomb that you're actually in love with each other? Truman: You impulsively kiss the best friend you've been in love with for ages . . . then wake up with a hangover—and regrets. Lyle: You freak out because you're not gay or bi, before realizing the kiss wasn't *actually* bad. Then you begin to wonder . . . should we do it again?

Hi, my name is Fisher, and I'm hooked on my dad's rival. I've been in love with Hudson Nash for years, but he's too stubborn to admit he wants me, too. For a whole bunch of stupid reasons. Like the fact that I'm too young. (What's a twenty-year gap? Age is just a number, am I right?) And a virgin. (Which he could easily fix!) And maybe not the best choice, given he and my dad hate each other. (It's not that ba—Okay, it is that bad, but our love could totally rise above, right? It would be epic!)

As the former mayor of Smoky Vale, I hinged my campaign on getting rid of all bikers. They are everything that's wrong with our town. Everywhere they go they breed crudeness, chaos, and carnage. Then my son fell in love with not one, but two of them. Now I have no choice but to interact with the very people I tried to take down. My disapproval of their lifestyle wavers when a spawn of Goliath backs me into a wall, kisses me senselessly, and makes it clear in the most vulgar way possible what he wants to do to me.

I have one rule to live by: Don't Date a DILF. I've seen the consequences of blurring the boundaries between teaching life and dating life, and I'm not about to take that kind of risk.

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.

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.

A trip to the grocery store changed my life. That's where I bumped into my "straight" coworker and good friend, Jake Perez. I decided to invite him to my book club night, not realizing the chain of events that invite would kick off. Immediately our chemistry became too explosive, making our friendship and work relationship complicated. That same night, a bloody package addressed to me lands on my doorstep. Falling for Jake was never in the plans—then again neither was being targeted by a dangerous stalker. This was going to be interesting.

When Kel Taylor’s life changes irrevocably, he finds himself alone in the world. He might have rebelled a little against his parents, but that didn’t mean he was ready to lose them. Unable to cope with his grief and feelings of guilt, he turns to booze, but before he hits rock bottom, someone dives into the murky waters to save him.

Who are we? Nobody really knows. We’re seven powerful heirs to empires, ruling Manhattan from our thrones on Park Avenue. By day, we’re the elite, untouchable, and more connected than you could ever imagine. By night, we revel in the darkness of our secrets, pulling strings that make the city bow to our whims.

Hotel-room-trashing tantrums? Check. Daddy issues galore? Check. Glitz, glamour and general debauchery? I wrote the f**king book. I’m a textbook bad boy rockstar cliche, and I’ve never claimed to be anything else. Hell, I own it. At least, I did, until he came along: Mr. Self-Righteous who acts more like a priest than a drummer. Now he’s my bodyguard and the guy in charge of making sure I don’t OD before the tour ends. Oh, right. I also have a crazy stalker who’s been obsessed with me since I was a kid. So that’s fun.

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.

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.

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.

Carter Morgan III hates everything about South Carolina University except for one thing: hockey. As the starting netminder for the team, he lives for those moments when he can step onto the ice and between the pipes. Unfortunately, his time at school and on the team is slowly coming to an end. Although he'd love nothing more than to pursue a career in the NHL, he knows better than to get his hopes up.

I’ve never wanted a relationship—especially not with a human. With my father demanding my return to Hell and a demon leaving dead bodies in my bookshop, now is not the time to lose my heart. One look in Oscar’s broken eyes, and I know I’m in trouble. Oscar’s been hurt before, and everything in me screams to keep him safe. How can I do that when I know being with me will only put him in more danger? More importantly, am I strong enough to walk away from him?