Between running a garage full of beefed-up gear-head mechanics and bailing my idiot brother out of trouble every other week, the last thing I have time for is a relationship. I’ve tried it too many times, and the ridiculous reasons I always find to end it have become a running joke around the garage. But I’ve learned my lesson. No. More. Boyfriends. I don’t care how many times Porter falls asleep drunk in my bed or how cute he looks covered in oil smears while I teach him how to fix up the vintage car he has rusting away in his garage; I’m not going to fall for him. 

When you can talk to ghosts, things are bound to get spirited. The ghosts have been there since before I can remember. When I was a kid, they doted on me, but as I got older, they got more demanding. I’ve spent my whole life seeing and talking to dead people and trying to pretend I’m not, because the living just don’t understand. Nobody wants to be around the freak who claims to see ghosts. Until I go to Mannix Estate.

I live a simple, small-town life. Helping with the family restaurant, my side gig as a ride-share driver, hanging with my best friend, and making the most of the extra time with my ghost grandma. The only exciting thing to happen to me in the past year was when Gabe moved to town—too bad Nonna scared him off. It’s hard to impress a guy when your dead grandmother calls him the devil.

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.

Santos “Saint” Cavallero had his life all figured out when he married his high school sweetheart, joined the Navy, and became a SEAL. After years of being deployed, Saint comes home for good, only to discover his wife has fallen for another man. Now divorced and a bodyguard for Four Kings Security, Saint loves his job and his found family. His dating life? A hot mess, until the spark of an unexpected attraction strikes him like lightning, leaving Saint confused. Why is he feeling hot and bothered over the ruggedly handsome Fire Chief?

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.

Levi Black is at a crossroads. After suffering a loss and breaking up a long-term relationship, he’s looking for a change. When he receives the news he’s inherited a house in York, he seizes the opportunity to begin a new chapter in his life. However, when he gets there, he finds a house that has never kept its occupants for very long. Either through death or disinclination, no one stays there, and after a few days of living in the place, Levi can understand why.

The furniture district is my personal hell. I don’t know my ass from an ottoman. But when a hot designer comes to my rescue, I realize my problems are bigger than the house I’m trying to furnish.

After zero-gravity heroics left astronaut Nicolas Rogers injured, his new job as a hermit — er, park ranger — seems perfect. Until he ends up babysitting rock star Deen Jayse, sent to the Smoky Mountains by his manager for image rehab. Behind their personas, they’re startlingly similar. Yet Deen can't just drop everything to go live in the mountains, and Nico can't abandon them. After a taste of being together, how can they face a future apart? 

Matt Russo knows better. Everyone does, but no one knows better than an attorney who routinely works with the fae: you watch what you say, or else you find yourself in the crosshairs of trickster magic. Or in this case, with an angel on one shoulder and a demon on the other. And the ridiculous bickering celestial beings aren’t going anywhere until they help him change his perpetual single status. Worse, if someone finds out he used magic for any kind of gain, his personal and professional reputations might never recover.

It’s been a year to the day since Matteo Segreto’s biggest mistake ruined the best thing he ever had, and nothing’s been the same. All he can do is try to move on, but his world is empty without the love of his life. Alone and consumed by regret, Matteo would do anything to undo the past. Then his ex shows up, panicked and begging for his help… with no memory of their breakup.

Being rescued by a hot lumberjack after catching his fiancé cheating was the only good thing to happen to Beau for quite some time. Getting stuck in the man’s cabin for the weekend? There were definitely worse ways to pass a few days. Falling for him when the guy made it clear he didn’t do relationships? Well, Beau just wouldn’t do that...probably.

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.

Everett Larkin works for the Cold Case Squad: an elite - if understaffed and overworked - group of detectives who solve the forgotten deaths of New York City. Larkin is different from others, but his deduction skills are unmatched and his memory for minute details is unparalleled. So when a spring thunderstorm uproots a tree in Madison Square Park, unearthing a crate with human remains inside, the best Cold Case detective is assigned the job.

Magnus Carlsen is determined to grow old disgracefully. At 52, he doesn’t believe in keeping anything. Men, sofas, books—everything gets jettisoned, eventually. He’s divided his life into happy compartments. A successful trial lawyer, he spends his days lecturing jurors, exasperating judges, and striding arrogantly around courtrooms. He fills his nights with a parade of handsome young men who want to make him happy. Why date someone his own age to discuss back pain, retirement planning, and corns when he can date men who don’t care to discuss anything at all?