Relationships are complex. Love is ever-changing. And when it comes to rules of the heart, they were made to be broken. That's what Robert Antonio Bianchi was telling himself, anyway. Otherwise, he really had no excuse for what - or who - he'd done. If there was a bad decision to be made, Robbie always had a knack for making it. And thus, begins the story of the priest, the princess, and the prick. 

Ace Locke is Hollywood's hottest action hero. Women across the globe fling their panties in his direction, but Ace isn't interested in those - he's more of a boxer briefs kind of guy. Specifically, those of the nearly naked male model on a billboard he drives past every day. Though he recently made headlines for his public coming out, Ace is wary about pursuing a relationship, fearing what the court of public opinion will do to his career. But there's something in the model's expression that intrigues him and has him wondering what if?

Reckless, arrogant, and bold, Solo is as known in the US Navy for his bad-boy reputation as he is for his skills as a fighter pilot. It’s a surprise to his peers, then, when he’s chosen to train and compete at the most prestigious naval aviation academy in the world. Disciplined, smart, and confident, Panther can’t afford not to play by the rules. As the son of a top Navy commander, all eyes are on him, and being anything less than number one is unacceptable.

Sebastian “Bash” Vogel, the magnetic, cross-dressing CEO of AnaVoge, has long been a lone island when it comes to his personal life. Self-assured and playful, he’s never left wanting for suitors - but Bash isn’t looking for something permanent. He’s more than fulfilled with his company and his closest friends, and no one is going to shake up the status quo. That is, until he’s thrown over the shoulder of one of Chicago’s finest and hauled out of a burning building.

Tyson Langley thinks the king in Franklin University Kings is in reference to him. Star lacrosse player and God’s gift to the female and male population, there’s nothing the spoiled jock can’t have. It’s impossible for us to be in the same room without talking crap to each other. But I also have a secret…as much as I despise Ty, I want him too. I revel in our banter and in never knowing what he’ll say next. I’ve spent too much time on the wrong side of the law for someone like Ty, though, and if I want to escape my past, he’s a distraction I don’t need.

Being invited to my cousin’s wedding really shouldn’t be a big deal except, oh yeah, I haven't seen my family for a decade. My parents turned their backs on me, and I’ve done everything since to become successful and show them what they've lost. Only it’s kinda hard to be a success when you’re a walking trainwreck.

Sex comes with a price tag. One I’m quite willing to pay. In fact, I prefer it. It’s easier that way, and in my life, I prefer ease. Prefer for most things to be transactional.

Harley: What happens when the most successful boy band on the planet breaks up? How about 20,000 fans screaming my name. But the price of fame comes with an increased risk to my safety. I've been avoiding the dreaded B word for as long as I can, but after a close call with a rambunctious fan, I can't do it anymore. It's time to give in. I need to hire a full-time bodyguard. And when he shows up, he not only screams badass, he's another B word I try to stay away from: boyfriend material.

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.

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.

I have to stop replaying the one night I spent with my rival. Trouble is, that white-hot encounter with the other quarterback answered a lot of questions I’ve had about myself, but it also led me into this mess where he hates me. I never showed up for our second date. Since, well, life happened, and the worst part is he’ll never know how much that night meant to me.

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...

Straight guys don’t have crushes on other dudes, right? Except my roommate, Whit, is intriguing, and I find myself watching him constantly. He’s a mystery I can’t figure out and these feelings I’m having about him are confusing. Then, one night, I find myself wrapped around him, and after that, I can't get enough. But Whit has secrets. He doesn’t let people in, and the more I fall for him, the less I know. I can't let him go, though. Until I realize I’m going to be the one broken at the end of our story.

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?

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.