I've loved him as long as I can remember. The gangly boy with big brown eyes and unruly hair who grew up into an intoxicating man. He wears scruff like he invented it and ambles with a swagger that makes panties drop. Killian Shepard. Shep. We grew up together. We played Ghost in the Graveyard. Had our own rock band. It didn't matter that he was five years older than me. It didn't matter that he looked at me as a kid sister even as I grew into woman.

When my husband died, he left my broken heart behind. He left another heart behind, too - his.
I know it's wrong. I shouldn't be contacting the recipient of my husband's heart. I don't even expect him to reply.... But there's a desperate, twisted part of me that hopes he will. No names. No personal details. Just a conversation. The only thing I have left of my husband is inside him.

There once was a girl with fireflies in her eyes and music in her soul. Remember her... she's important. She's the reason I panic-bought the little brick house on Maple Street, the one I lived next door to for eight magical years. Now that I'm back digging up floorboards and lost journals, I can't stop thinking about the two people who grew up here. You see, that girl was my best friend, and this house was once hers. She also had a big brother who was my everything before circumstances turned us into nothing more than memories.

The average song is three and a half minutes long; those three and a half minutes could lead to a slow blink, a glimpse of the past, or catapult the soul into heart-shattering nostalgia. At the height of my career, I had the life I wanted, the life I’d always envisioned. I’d found my tempo, my rhythm. Then I received a phone call that left me off key. You see, my favorite songs had a way of playing simultaneously. I was in love with one man’s beats and another’s lyrics. But when it came to the soundtrack of a life, how could anyone choose a favorite song?

Macon Davis. My best friend’s brother. My tormentor. My least favorite person. Pothead. Delinquent. A careless, directionless loser. That’s what I used to believe, but I didn’t really know him. And when I finally saw him, it was the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. We burned hot and fast. Passion. Anger. Love. Pain. We were reckless. Naive. We were doomed from the start. When I finally saw Macon Davis for who he was, we both went down in the flames.

The first letter arrived the day my husband was buried. It was postmarked from the state penitentiary, and contained a single sentence: I’ll wait forever if I have to. It was signed by Dante, a man I didn’t know. Out of simple curiosity, I wrote back to ask him what exactly he was waiting for. His reply? You.

I should have known I was in trouble when I backed my old, beat-up truck into the shiny Range Rover. The driver looked like a gorgeous fallen angel–one who’d been booted right out of paradise for being a giant prick. Good thing I’ll never have to see him again.

He was my boyfriend’s best friend—and the bane of my existence. I wanted to hate Luke Taylor. I did hate him. I just never hated him enough. Now, a decade later, tragedy has brought us back to the place where it all happened—my best times and my worst. Our lives have changed, but that pull between us is just as strong as ever. Only this time, it’s more dangerous too.

Faith Benson isn’t your emergency contact, she’s the party-girl friend you call for a good time. She's the gal-pal who loves mimosas at brunch and martinis at Happy Hour. But her carefree lifestyle threatens her job at a top Seattle ad agency; there’s no one better at landing big accounts (when she shows up). But now her boss demands she take a leave of absence to get her head on straight.

Damien Sinclair is a force of nature, the beauty of a sunset over the ocean while capable of devastating hurricane-strength winds. At one time, he’d held my heart in his hands. That was until the day I walked away. I didn’t leave him because I didn’t love him. It was that loving him was too much, an all-encompassing affair. In his presence, I failed to exist.

I didn’t know what would happen after my client found me sleeping in my car. I’d been cleaning his house as his wife was dying. I didn’t expect them to invite me to live with them. I didn’t expect Suzie to become my lifeline—until she was gone. I didn’t expect him to ask me to marry him when he found out I needed medical insurance. I didn’t expect to fall in love with a grieving man. There are so many reasons to keep my distance from Zach. Every tender moment secreted away. When we’re not together, I miss the man I call husband.

When I was a little girl, I dreamed a handsome knight would come and rescue me from my wretched mother. He'd ride up on his white steed and break the curse I've been fated to carry since the day I was born. Funny how things changed over time, how the fairytale twisted into something far more crooked—and darker—than I ever imagined. In reality, my knight is scarred and broken, living alone in a castle of bones that overlooks the sea. He isn’t searching for me. He never was.

I wasn’t supposed to be on that roof on Valentine’s Day. Neither was Kellan Marchetti, the school’s designated freak. We met on the verge of ending our lives. Somehow, the tattered strings of our tragedies tangled and tightened into an unlikely bond. We decided not to take the plunge and agreed to check on each other every Valentine’s Day until school ended. Same time. One roof. Two restless souls. We kept our promise for three years.

Shane Wilder: pro surfer, dream chaser, thief of my heart—and completely off-limits. It was infatuation at first sight. On our first date, he took me to watch the fireworks. It was a magical night of stolen kisses and whispered confessions under the stars. But it all came to a screeching halt when he asked the one question I’d been dreading: "How old are you, Remy?" Right guy, wrong time.

Author Olivia Rossi hasn’t been able to write a word since tragedy struck two years ago and ripped her world apart. Heartbroken and still haunted by the past, she accepts an offer to spend the summer at a friend’s apartment in Paris in search of healing and her lost muse. What she finds instead is James, an enigmatic stranger who ignites in her an unexpected and all-consuming passion. Agreeing to tell each other nothing more than their first names, Olivia and James embark on a torrid affair.

It’s the flight before Christmas and Molly just got an unexpected gift: a free first-class upgrade on her plane trip home for the holidays. Bring on the complimentary cocktails! But after one too many, she spills all her secrets to the hot guy seated next to her—only to wake up mortified when her buzz has worn off. At least she never has to see Liam again ... or so she thinks. When Molly arrives at Christmas House, the festive rental home that she and her family are sharing with her sister’s fiancé and his wealthy family, she discovers that Liam is one of the new in-laws. Oops.

Living in a year around Christmas town has its drawbacks. The caroling, the decorations, the insanely cheery spirit, it never disappears. It's why I like to hibernate away in my cave - I mean housekeeping a healthy distance from the holly jolly spirits. And all was going according to plan until my nemesis, Storee Taylor, moved in next door to care for her Aunt Cindy. Without blinking, she turned my simple world into a real nightmare-before-Christmas, especially when she decided to enter the town Christmas Kringle contest - which she was determined to win.

When mystery author D. B. Ziegler is late delivering her book, Abi Schore steps in to help. Surely she can give her favorite author moral support over the holiday break and get the manuscript to her boss at Tea & Sympathy Publishing in time for the new year. When Abi shows up on Ms. Ziegler’s doorstep bearing holiday treats, she’s met by the author’s handsome grandson Dov, who reveals a startling plot twist. His grandmother isn’t able to finish the book and Dov promised he’d complete it so fans won’t be disappointed—a task that’s harder than he ever imagined.

There's no place like home for the holidays ... especially for Lesley Carver. Life in the big city just wasn't her jam and now she's back in Hickory Falls, working at the family diner and helping her mom after she took a tumble. Lesley longs to build a life here, working at the cafe, selling her handmade ornaments and ... er, apparently reviving her high school crush on her best friend’s older brother. Only one problem, her mom wants her to leave Hickory Falls far behind.

Evie Crowe is starting over in a strange town with her newborn, and men are the furthest thing from her mind. If only the quiet, hulking farmer, Luke Ward, would stop coming into the thrift shop and piquing her reluctant interest. Evie wants to stay single all the way—she can’t trust anything more than friends-with-holiday-benefits. But Luke is in it for the long haul. He’s fixed on making this a Christmas Evie will remember forever. If she gives him a chance.

Lowen Ashleigh is a struggling writer on the brink of financial ruin when she accepts the job offer of a lifetime. Jeremy Crawford, husband of best-selling author Verity Crawford, has hired Lowen to complete the remaining books in a successful series his injured wife is unable to finish. Lowen arrives at the Crawford home, ready to sort through years of Verity's notes and outlines, hoping to find enough material to get her started. What Lowen doesn't expect to uncover in the chaotic office is an unfinished autobiography Verity never intended for anyone to read.

Tilly Farriday isn’t feeling very jolly this season. Recently divorced and broke, she’s squatting in one of her rental agency’s properties until her new home is ready. The sprinkles on top of the burnt Christmas cookie that is her life? The new owner shows up early, forcing Tilly to hide in the attic to save her job…and what remains of her dignity.

Clark Griswold was onto something...at least with his annual holiday meltdown. And since the last three weeks of my life have been riddled with humbug—another breakup, a broken toe, an office promotion I deserved and didn’t get—I’m not at all in the mood to celebrate nor have the happ, happ, happiest Christmas EVER.

After watching my mother succumb to a mysterious illness, I promised myself two things. I'd find the cure for what ravaged her and leave the godforsaken city where she abandoned me. Four years later, I received an acceptance letter from Dracadia University, one of the oldest most prestigious schools in the country. Nestled on a secluded island off the coast of Maine, it's rumored to be haunted by the souls of the mental patients exiled there centuries before, those whose bones are said to make up the island's white sandy shores. And restless ghosts aren't even its most daunting peculiarity.

After a bad breakup, Nola wants nothing to do with Christmas, especially in her quaint hometown of Bright Harbor, Maine. Infuriatingly charming and cheery, Nola’s surroundings only worsen her sour mood. To make matters worse, Caleb, the boy who broke her heart years ago, is all grown up and still living in town. While doing her best to avoid him, Nola bumps into the local mailman, who gives her a mysterious letter. And when she finds that the writer is a fellow Scrooge, she can’t help but feel her spirit lifting.