I was 14 when my dad married Lane’s mom and our families became one, when my favorite moments were those spent staying up all night, talking, or watching Lane create art. There aren’t many things more inconvenient than loving your stepbrother. I know the limits, and that’s pushing them too far. Over the years, I’ve pulled away from him. It was easier when he left for New York, but now he’s back, not only in Atlanta, but in my home, trying to get back what we lost. How can I tell my own stepbrother that I want him in my bed? That I want to call him mine?

I spent college worrying about responsibilities and earning my teaching degree, so before graduation and moving to Atlanta with my best friend, Ross, I figure I deserve a little fun. I’ve never been with an older man, but the guy at the bar grabs my attention and doesn’t let go…for multiple rounds, all night long. The next day, when Ross introduces me to his dad, the last thing I expect is for him to be my hookup from the night before, in town from Atlanta for his son’s graduation. The best thing would be to pretend it never happened, which is easier said than done.

Payne. In search of: Room to rent. Must ignore the patheticness of a 40-year-old roommate. Preferably dirt cheap as funds are tight (nonexistent). There’s nothing sadder than moving back to my hometown newly divorced, homeless, and lost for what my next move is. When my little brother’s best friend offers me a place to stay in exchange for menial duties, I swallow my pride and jump at the offer. I need this. I also need Beau to wear a shirt. And ditch the gray sweatpants. And not leave his door ajar when he’s in compromising positions...

Elijah: Out of all the apartments in Atlanta, I ended up with the worst neighbor. Shaw Hastings is a headache. He's so full of himself it makes me crazy. Our official language is snarky banter - which I don't enjoy, I swear. I've got eyes for my bestie Danny, anyway. I need to figure out if he feels the same, so I email an advice column written by a serial dater, who's just as annoying as Shaw. Now, I'm asking myself why am I thinking less about Danny and having a blast virtually flirting with Anonymous?

Milo. Unusual. Quirky. Different. I’ve heard it all. I’ve accepted I’m not for everyone. When I find out I inherited a bookstore and apartment on a small East Coast island, I jump at the chance for a new life. Turns out I’ve also inherited a sexy, tattooed guy who not only rents the space next to my store but my apartment too. Gideon. I wasn’t looking for a roommate, but it’s not like I can stay at Milo’s place while he’s banished to a hotel. According to Milo, we’re bestie goals. And if he doesn’t wear pants at home, who am I to complain?

Military life is all I’ve known since I was born. But when a top-secret mission fails, I find myself suddenly discharged with nowhere to go. Mike Bravo saved my life, and they want me to join them, but there’s one small problem. Isaac “Iris” Griffin. He’s as irresistibly snarky as he always was, only there’s a big difference this time. I’m no longer closeted or scared to live my truth. And the truth is, I’ve always wanted him. It’s against Mike Bravo’s rules to fraternize with other team members. But something tells me Iris might be worth the insubordination.

A night on the town after a long workweek at my family's distillery should include shots and dancing - not a hot kiss with a handsome stranger. I'm straight. At least, that's what I figured until I find myself locking lips with a sexy city boy. Now, all my circuits are going haywire, and the spark that ignites between us makes me even more curious. Unfortunately, I kissed the one man who's off-limits: Cohen Mitchell - the sole surviving heir to the Mitchell Creek distillery, a rival neighbor my family has feuded with for nearly a 100 years. 

When I left home, I swore I'd never hide anything about myself again. From college, to law school, to the United States Senate representing California, I've done it all as an out gay man. So, when I'm in DC and see a beautiful guy at the hotel bar, I don't hesitate to proposition him...right before he runs out on me, leaving his sunglasses behind like my very own Cinderfella. 

Zach has been my ride-or-die since we were nine. Business partners, roommates, best friends... we do everything together. But the last thing either of us expected was to be staring 40 in the face just as single as we both were when we made a silly, drunken marriage pact 20 years ago. The problem? Zach is gay...and, well, I’m not.

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.

Don’t play dirty. That’s the code I live by on and off the field. The other? Don’t get distracted. Not by the media, not by hookups, and definitely not by our rival team’s ridiculously charming star player, who loves to whisper dirty nothings to me every time we play ball.

As social chair of Sigma Beta Psi, I’m the life of the party. It’s what I’m known for, and if it’s not fun, I’m not interested, simple as that. I’m not someone who overthinks. So, when one of my brothers hooks up with a dude from another frat house, it catches me off guard when I can’t stop thinking about them…together. There’s only one way for me to get this obsession out of my head, and that’s by jumping in with both feet and putting it into practice.

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.

"Look out for Zach, and don't hit on him." My brother's request sounds easy enough. Keep an eye out for his best friend on campus and keep my hands to myself. Easy. Even if Zach is a quintessential nerd, who I've always thought was cute, I don't have the time to think with my...stick. There's only one stick I should be focused on this year, and that's my hockey stick. My goal once I graduate is to get an NHL contract. The last thing I need is a distraction. On or off the ice. Only, keeping to the rules is harder than I thought it would be. 

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.