There wasn’t a time when I didn't know Flynn “Firecracker” Honeycutt. He’s been my childhood friend. My high school rival. The guy I couldn’t stop dreaming about, long after I thought I’d left him and Honeybridge in my rear-view mirror.

Moms are good at one thing: the guilt trip. It’s the only reason I’m at the funeral of a man I’ve never had anything to do with. I’ll show up, make her happy, and get out. At least that’s what I think until I learn daddy dearest has left me a crap load of money and the obligation to learn about the family business. All from his eldest son who looks nothing like the rest of us.

Topher - My friend’s brother needs an academic assistant, and I need a job. Problem.... Jocks are my weakness. Seriously. I lose my ability to speak coherently around muscle-bound hotties. Oh yeah, I lose my inhibitions, too - not a good look for a guy with a genius IQ. So what am I going to do about Simon? 

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.

I was intrigued by Crow at first glance. Who wouldn't be? He's a mountain of a man, who was raised in a cult, and now lives secluded in the wilderness. But the draw I feel to him goes beyond mild interest. When his intense gaze falls my way it feels like he can see into my soul, to my deepest yearnings and desires. I took a bold chance venturing to his mountain uninvited. But I can't help myself. Despite Crow’s dangerous facade, I feel at home when I’m near him. I've never felt wanted or needed… until the mountain man took me in his arms.

Charles Preston Carmichael is the most infuriating man I've ever met. I want to sock the golden boy of college hockey right in the mouth. He enjoys telling me everything I'm messing up—publicly. And since he's my roommate for the next year, I can't avoid him. Yet there's something about him that makes me watch him. Something dark. A secret I want to uncover. When he returns from a weekend away, broken and haunted, I can't keep my distance anymore. He needs someone, and I'll be damned if it's not me.

I’m never one to turn down a bet. Especially not when it comes to retaliating against the dean for pulling a dick move before summer break. So when the dean’s golden child arrives at Astor for his freshman year, my fellow troublemakers throw down a wager I can’t resist. The target: the dean’s son, John Thomas Hawthorne, or “JT”. The bet: corruption in any way I choose. It should’ve been easy. With his mess of brown curls, pouty lips, and good-boy reputation, JT is the perfect revenge. And even better? He’s straight.

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. 

I hate Valentine Tye. I’ve hated him since we were ten years old. I hate everything he is, everything he stands for. Even the mention of his name gets my back up. And when I see him? My blood boils. My jaw clenches and my hands curl into fists. That’s how much I hate him. I want to cause him pain. I want to hold him down and actually hurt him. And if that’s not bad enough, that’s exactly what he wants me to do to him.

I’ll never fall in love again. I had my chance, and I was the happiest man you can imagine. One day, it all came to an end. The only thing left was playing hockey, but it wasn’t enough, and I became my own worst enemy. When my old school offered me a lifeline, I took it. As a coach, I could at least be miserable in a different place.

Hockey is in my blood. I learned to skate before I learned how to ride a bike. I’ve been on a wild ride, playing at the highest level for some of the biggest and best teams in the league. But now it’s over, and I’m not sure what to do with myself. So I'm going home to Elmwood. But I’ll tell you what I’m not gonna do—I’m not going to coach my buddy’s junior hockey league. No chance. I don’t know how to deal with kids, and besides, the other coach—who happens to be my best friend’s brother—hates me. With reason.

Six years ago, Jasper Des Moines traded in the only life he knew. In order to keep a promise and a secret, he walked from the only man he’d ever loved. Now, he has a career in need of constant defending, a best friend who knows nothing about his past, and a husband he should love. He has the life he believes he deserves. Until one day, the unfinished business he left behind catches up with him, and he’s faced with the one man he’d never been able to resist or forget.

Team A.L.P.H.A. is an mpreg wolf shifter series full of protective alphas, side splitting moments of laughter, dangerous missions, pregnancy, babies, and endless feels. Grabbed, Taken, Struck and Hacked. Included with the first four stories of this series are four brand new epilogues, for more of your favorite team's crazy antics!

Caelan James should've known better than to let a dating app set him up on a blind date. Nothing in life was guaranteed-perfect, especially not guys, and most definitely not guys in the immediate vicinity of tiny O'Leary, New York. But then, sexy Navy SEAL Ash Martin walked into Cal's bakery, and made him wonder if fate might have cooked up something sweet for him after all. 

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.