Eli Baker needs a job. Drag isn’t paying the bills and the life of a starving artist isn't as fun when he’s the one living it. Taking a temporary office job is meant to be a quick fix. It's not supposed to reintroduce him to the funny, sharp, and sweet Tristan Rose…who just so happens to be Eli's oldest brother’s best friend. Eli can’t stand his brother, and the feeling is more than mutual. Getting involved with Tristan could mean family trouble, but Eli's never been one for following the rules, especially when breaking them means annoying his brother.

I met him, the man of my dreams. On the worst day of my life. Catching my boyfriend out was bad. Coming out of the club in a daze, I stumbled upon a situation which was worse. Much worse. And it would have been deadly, too. If he wasn’t there to save me. My unsuspecting hero. He was rugged, wild, and powerful. The way he looked at me set me on fire.

Get a personal chef, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. And then Thierry shows up and Pietro realizes his mistake. Because he knows Thierry. A little too well. Thierry is the man who told his ex to leave him. Thierry is the man who punched Pietro and ran. Thierry...is his ex-boyfriend’s best friend. But Pietro also knows the man needs a job. An injury destroyed his former career, and Pietro is nothing if not a bleeding heart. Besides, he doesn’t have time to search for a new chef, not with the World Series looming and his team ready to go all the way.

I left my family and tiny Texas hometown 15 years ago to escape small-town gossips and to give my mom and sister the chance at a better life. But when a phone call from an attorney back home informs me that my sister passed away, leaving me custody of her newborn baby, I'm shocked out of the steady life I've built for myself running a tattoo shop in San Francisco. The thing is: I don't do babies. And I don't do small towns. Or commitment. And I especially don't do family.

Harper Reid has no money and nowhere to go, but he can't spend one more day under the same roof as his abusive boyfriend. Desperate to start fresh, he takes on a special case through the caregiver agency that contracts him. The client has fired everyone else, but this job includes lodging, so Harper will find a way to make it work until he's back on his feet.

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.

They say that all men are created equal. Well, that’s a blatant lie! I know, because I met God's gift to women in Vegas; I pretended he was my husband to get rid of another man. He took our fake marriage seriously, and it became his personal goal to consummate. He spoke to me in French, and I lied to him in German. His laughter was addictive. But I thought what happens in Vegas would stay in Vegas. Until it didn't.

In my defense, I was left alone with a bottle of single-malt and a lifelong penchant for protecting my baby sister. Still, that's no excuse to send 10 drunk-texts on why her hasty marriage would be a mistake. If only I had just texted my sister. But nope. I accidentally sent the message to her, her groom, and his super hot wingman. I also used the phrase “super hot wingman”, so I’d like to die now.

I didn't mean to star in a sex tape, okay? It was just one of those unexplainable things. Like Stonehenge, Police Academy 2, and morning glory clouds. It just happened. Now, my ball-busting father is sentencing me to six months of celibacy, sobriety, and morbid boredom under the roof of Boston's nerdiest girl alive, Sailor Brennan. The virginal archer is supposed to babysit my ass while I learn to take my place in Royal Pipelines, my family's oil company. Little does she know, that's not the only pipe I'll be laying....

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.