I thought I had one chance to kiss him, and I blew it. We were 16, and I was an idiot. But now, here he is, standing right in front of me, looking at me with that same expression of awe and adoration that I never lost my addiction to.

Is there such thing as love at first bar fight? I may be small and pretty, but what I lack in intimidation factor, I make up for in violence. I made a vow five years ago that the motorcycle club responsible for my brother’s death would pay the price, and I’m finally ready to collect. May God have mercy on the men who hurt my brother, because I don’t plan to.

Lewis. Clingy, needy, Too Much. Just a few choice words from men who never deserved me anyway. I'm not going to make the same mistakes again though. I plan to ride the motorcycle hottie of my dreams just until we both get bored. Besides, who has time for anything but a quick fling when the jerks at the tattoo shop next door insist on doing everything they can to annoy the hell out of me with some stupid prank war?

The last thing I want is another relationship or another broken heart. All I need are my bees and the occasional hookup to scratch the itch. Okay, maybe meeting up with my hot contractor weekly is a little more than occasional. And maybe the way I’m starting to feel about the guy I’ve been anonymously chatting with online should concern me. But CaulkyAF doesn’t want to meet, and Cole doesn’t want anything serious, so what’s the worst that could happen?

Proposing to my first boyfriend at a hockey game wasn’t my smartest move. Not only does said boyfriend walk out on me, but the whole stupid thing goes viral, and it turns out the man I was dating has too many boyfriends to count. Internet fame has crowned me a member of the Jilted Exes’ Club, a name I’d do anything to escape. One thing’s for sure: I’m not making the same mistake again. No more boyfriends, just easy hookups. And I’ll start with this gorgeous catch in Seattle. The only problem…he’s a god in bed, and I’m an inexperienced mess.

Arseny Lebedev lives a normal life. During the day, he’s a mechanic. At night, he livestreams a fairy tale video game called Paladin. And sometimes—only sometimes—he kills people. But they all deserve it. Ever doesn’t know his last name. He doesn’t know much of anything. Most of his life has been torture, bought and sold by a woman who calls herself his mother. He’s resigned himself to a life of servitude, until he meets Arsen.

If there’s one thing I don’t need upsetting my quiet and comfortable routine in the small town of Darling, Montana, it’s newcomer Ash Alcott crash landing on my family’s ranch like some sort of blonde angel. I don’t need his flirting. Or his smile. I don’t need the way he makes me question whether or not I’m truly happy being alone at forty. I certainly don’t need to be giving him riding lessons or appreciating the meals he cooks for the ranch.

If I had to choose one word to describe my new cocky costar, it’d be exasperating. Nikolas Adamos may look like a Greek god—and he certainly struts around like he knows it—but unlike everyone else, I refuse to fall prey to his charms. Unfortunately for me, Niko and I get paired to do a series of lovey-dovey boyfriend videos for our employers at Elite 8 Studios. And when you film the sort of scenes we do, up close and personal takes on a whole new meaning.

Hi, my name is Fisher, and I'm hooked on my dad's rival. I've been in love with Hudson Nash for years, but he's too stubborn to admit he wants me, too. For a whole bunch of stupid reasons. Like the fact that I'm too young. (What's a twenty-year gap? Age is just a number, am I right?) And a virgin. (Which he could easily fix!) And maybe not the best choice, given he and my dad hate each other. (It's not that ba—Okay, it is that bad, but our love could totally rise above, right? It would be epic!)

It's a new start—brand new school in a completely different state. For the first time, I now have the freedom to be unapologetically me. But as my luck would have it, I have shit taste in men. The first man to pay me a compliment has so many red flags, that I think I'm in a storm. Life can't get any worse… until he turns into a stalker. Then my stalker ends up brutally murdered, I walk blindly into a serial killer's nest, and I catch the attention of a sociopath.

There’s nothing wrong with admiring a work of art, or so I tell myself…even when the admiring is more like peeping out my bedroom window, and the work of art is the shirtless, sweaty, body of the man who’s been mowing my lawn once a week every summer for years.

My newest obsession is nothing like any of my past hookups. A perma-scowl and general leave-me-alone attitude? Yeah, that's the kind of thing I usually stay away from. But the most shocking part about all of this is that the person who's got me all out of whack . . . isn't a girl. Bash is a six-foot-four-tatted personal trainer who seems to want nothing to do with me. Until I'm naked, that is. As soon as I'm dressed, he's more than ready to say goodbye. But if there's one thing getting a taste of Sebastian Crawford has taught me, it's that one taste just isn't enough.

I'm a list person. Lists make sense, they give a chaotic, unpredictable world order. Realizing I was gay at 30 definitely wasn't on my list. I guess I need a new list….

Who are we? Nobody really knows. We’re seven powerful heirs to empires, ruling Manhattan from our thrones on Park Avenue. By day, we’re the elite, untouchable, and more connected than you could ever imagine. By night, we revel in the darkness of our secrets, pulling strings that make the city bow to our whims.

I have a soul-destroying corporate job, I iron my underpants, and I was unceremoniously dumped for an influencer hippie a few years ago. Every day feels the same, and I don't know how much longer I can cope before I do something unhinged like rip off my shirt in the middle of my co-worker's office birthday party and smear lemon cake all over my chest. Then, a case of mistaken identity suddenly lands me in the middle of a covert professional wrestling league, which is apparently being run in the basement of my office building. Weird. Even weirder are the wrestlers.