Spark of Hope: A bi-weekly trauma support group. This is my nightmare. When I think of a support group, I think of sad people sitting around talking about their feelings and nothing changing. And yet, when my brother and his best friend, who happens to be a therapist, presented the idea of holding the meetings at my gym, I caved. Because I, Benjamin Price, have always tried to rescue the people in my life. But I can’t. I’ve usually failed them.

When I left Birchbark angry and heartbroken, I vowed never to return. Fate had other plans. The father I hate had a stroke, so now I'm back in the Upper Peninsula to take care of him. The locals treat Dad like royalty, while Dad vacillates between open anger and flat-out ignoring me. Throw in my messy relationship with my brothers, and being in Birchbark becomes unbearable.

What’s a straight guy to do when he accidentally goes on a date with his brand new gym-bro? Offer to be the best wingman ever, of course! It’s foolproof. Joey needs a man? I’ll find him one. He wants someone who looks, well, kind of like me? No problem! Not into watersports? I’ve got him covered. The issue is, going on all these dates with Joey makes me realize I want more of his time to be spent with me. I like the guy. And his smile. And the way he makes me feel like anything is possible.

I like to party; to have a good time. Life’s too short not to. I learned that when I lost my grandpa. He told me to have fun while I can, and I intend to. Though sometimes when you’re having a good time, you forget others may see you as irresponsible. And sometimes you screw up. I’ve definitely screwed up a time or two, but I’m still determined to have fun. I’m hoping I’ll convince my best friend, Camden, to do the same along the way. He’s too serious. Too focused. Too busy taking care of everyone to just relax. And that’s where I come in.

I'm the rebel, the bad one. I follow no rules on the track or anywhere else. I'm the obnoxious bad boy the fans secretly root for. I don't mind playing my role. I'm good at it, and it pays to be the dark to his light. Until the good boy starts to get to me. I'm confused and unsure of what I want, when it was all so clear before. They say good always wins, but is that truly the case? In the race between the far-too-pretty good boy and the angry bad boy, who will actually win?

After years of drowning myself in parties, hookups, and pain, all it takes is one viral sex tape to be given a choice: Hide out on an island or lose my trust fund. Having to share a room with the one man I let hurt me is my worst nightmare. I’m the broken shell of the boy he walked away from on the worst day of my life. I hate him almost as much as I hate myself.

Art evaluator Miles Tate is finally about to start living his dream . . . that is if he can get the funding in place to open his own art gallery in New York. But when an unexpected turn of events finds every one of Miles's perfectly-planned dreams turned upside-down, it's time to escape Manhattan and reluctantly take up a well-paid job in the tiny seaside town of Hope's Bluff, Georgia. For Miles, it's his only chance to make some money, claw back what little dignity he has left, and figure out what the hell to do with his life.

There are many words for what Oliver does for a living, and none of them are very kind. Oliver's time in that industry is nearly at an end, so when a gorgeous older man with sad eyes stumbles into his path, Oliver finds it impossible to turn him away. Victor looks at him like he's an angel, even when Oliver feels like a devil, but he knows better than to hope. After all, men like them are only ever destined for star-crossed love. As months of separation carry on, Oliver realizes that maybe he really is willing to fight for what he wants and, more importantly, for who.

The emo kid, the loner, the cynical wallflower with an attitude. It's no secret that I've never quite fit in. But it's glaringly obvious now that I've moved to this Podunk small town that seems to run entirely on sugar, friendliness, and cheer. (And cows, an ungodly number of cows.) I hate it—this place where everyone knows everyone, and I'm still the outsider. Who wants to fit in anyway? I've never really tried, never even thought I wanted to…until I met him. Jimbob is living his best life out here, farming the fields of Kansas, well and truly happy. And I just don't get it.

Sometimes I want to punch that smirk off Atlas McCallister's pretty face. He's cocky. A troublemaker. A pain. And, unfortunately, my stepbrother. We've been fire and kerosene since our parents got together, and to keep from exploding into fistfights, we've used challenges, dares, and bets to battle out our differences. Our past bets have been a little inappropriate—scandalous, even—but Atlas's latest bet has gone too far. Do I really believe if he loses, my straight stepbrother is gonna mess around with a guy? And not just any guy: me, his rival and nemesis?

I'm really more of a "take it as it comes" sort of dude. But making minimum wage at a small-town sandwich shop wasn't exactly what I had in mind after college graduation either. It may not be an exciting life, but it isn't so bad. At least I have my amazing coworkers and friends who always try to make the workday fun. Everyone, that is, except the new guy, Simon.

Opposites attract. The outlaw biker and the accountant. Straightlaced vs straight to hell. Or heaven, depending on how you look at it. And you can look at it any way you like, doesn't mean it's true. Either way, falling for snarky Alexei Ivanov is the lightbulb moment I've been waiting for my whole damn life. Or at least since my head got turned by someone else. A man I call brother, but he's so much more than that.

I always thought of Silas Rush as my biggest rival on the track and a stuck-up loner off of it. He and his fancy pro career left our crappy hometown in the dust before high school even finished, and then I didn't think of him much at all. I was too busy trying to keep my little sisters from turning into addicts like our mom, and myself from turning into a rage-junkie like our dad. All while keeping food on the table. Now he's back, reminding me of all the things I don't have, just like he always did.

It's official: my step bro is the biggest himbo ever to himbo. He's a massive blond beefcake with a soft heart and an over-eager smile. The mere sight of him incites a shaking hot rage in me. He's everywhere. He's around me all the time. So sweet and gentle that it makes me feel wild. I see him and smell him everywhere. When I can't see him or smell him, I hear him. The wall between our bedrooms is paper thin. I can't help it—I hear what he does in his room when he thinks he's alone. I hear everything.

My relationship with twins Damon and Declan has always been close. Too close, according to what society has deemed appropriate between guy friends. But that's never stopped our hugging and cuddling—in public or private. My best friends knew I didn't receive affection from home, so they never let me go without it.