Xander Corey lives simply, sustainably, on the outskirts of Osprey, a small, quaint town in Upstate New York. He’s a librarian when the town’s budget can afford him, a good friend, kind neighbor, and also, a witch. And while that’s of no concern to anyone around him, there are others, non-humans, who have a vested interest in Xander’s family land. Xander knows something dark and dangerous is brewing. He’s just not quite sure what.

George Hunt can think of nothing he’d like more than to skip the high-society fundraiser where he has to guard a precocious seventeen-year-old girl and her judgmental therapist, but there’s no way out of it. If anything bad were to happen and he wasn’t there to stop it, he’d never forgive himself. So even though she’s grilling him about his dating life and the good doctor is psychoanalyzing him, he’s going to soldier on, because protecting his charges is what a knight does.

Chris Gardner has a good life in New Orleans. He owns a club in the French Quarter, has a wonderful crew of people who call it home, loyal, caring friends, and even gets his kid fix by helping to take care of his chef’s daughter. What he doesn’t have is that special someone to share his days and nights with. He thought he did, once upon a time, but that man left to find fame and fortune, became a rockstar, and never returned. And that’s fine. Life isn’t a fairy tale. Now if only he could find a band to play music in his club at night, that would be a Christmas miracle.

Brighton Stanley lived under the control of his strict parents until he finished college. After toughing it out another year and saving every dime he made, he was all too happy to be in his first apartment away from their meddling. But that didn’t matter to them, and they kept his room just as he’d left it, awaiting his return. But Brighton knew there was nothing that would make him ever go back.

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.

What’s a loyal son worth? Jasha Kozlov is apparently worth two hundred thousand dollars, both to his father, who is deeply in debt to ruthless businessman Kaleb Bronson and to Bronson himself. When Valentin Kozlov can’t come up with the cash to pay his debt to real estate magnate Kaleb Bronson, Kaleb offers to accept Jasha in lieu of the cash. Jasha is stunned but agrees to the deal in order to save his father’s life.

Socially prominent and media darlings, the world thinks their lives are a fairytale. It is, but not the way people think. Larry is used to hiding the cruel way he’s treated, blamed for any and every thing that doesn’t go the way his mother and three older siblings want them too. His sole comfort is his stuffed dog, Mr. Bingles, his collection of vintage sci fi toys, and the imaginary daddy he pretends cares and loves him.

Jacob hoped there was more to life than money and was about to find out the hard way. Richard Worthington longs for a boy of his own. One to nurture and care for, pamper and spoil. His friends in the lifestyle found their forever partners, so why’s it so difficult for him to find the same? Sugar baby after sugar baby leaves Richard wondering if it’s worth it. Their paths cross in a chance meeting, though it’s a life-or-death decision that ultimately brings them together.

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.

Weirdly, people don’t react overly well when you’re caught standing over the dead body of a murderer who’d walked free. It’s not that I thought my fellow homicide detective would rejoice when he saw what I’d done, but is a pat on the back too much to ask for? Maybe a gold star at the very least? The problem is that the person who caught me is Gabriel, the only person I care for and adore… and he’s prepared to look the other way if I leave homicide and promise to never kill again.

Forget the jelly doughnuts. Hanukkah's about to get spicy.... Benji Roth couldn't be happier. His bakery in the small town of Serenity, Pennsylvania is thriving, and he doesn’t even mind being the only Jewish person in town. Except when his cousin, Issac, comes to visit, of course. Everyone is friendly—well, almost everyone. Gorgeous Gil Navarro, the owner of the spice shop across the street, comes in every morning for a muffin but barely looks at him and never says a word.

Brennan Taylor is at the end of his rope, and the busted pipe under his kitchen sink was the last straw. He knows nothing about plumbing, or any of the other things his father says a grown man should know, but lucky for him, he is about to lose it in front of the perfect man to help him.

His new life in Chicago consists of performing autopsies and eating chips while watching old detective series. Until…He's suddenly standing in front of me. Leather jacket, washed-out jeans, jet black hair. His deep, green eyes are so intense on me I can barely breathe. It's in his crooked smile, bold flirting, and confident—borderline conceited—behavior that I get lost.

I thought my day couldn't get any worse. After catching my best friend and girlfriend in bed together, the only thing going right in my life is the interview for my dream job. But fate is laughing at my expense. One mishap leads to another until I find myself trapped in a lift and missing my interview. And I'm not alone. I'm about to discover unexpected things about Luca Weston, lead singer of the world-famous rock band Caffeine Daydreams.

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.