A thousand years ago, my great-something uncle founded the Collective, a secret organization dedicated to protecting humanity from demons. The hunter tradition has been passed down over the generations, from parent to child, secure in the knowledge that the Collective is a community of safety and knowledge. But betrayal sucks, and six years ago, it turned my world—and the Collective—upside down. After generations of deception, the hunters left behind are picking up the pieces and trying something we’ve never done before—working side by side with our enemy.

This trilogy features a group of friends who are brought together by circumstances but remain family by choice. You'll find May/December pairings, brother's best friend, bi awakenings, fake dating, and plenty of that Kiki Clark steam.

Sascha has always felt powerless, the weak baby of a cruel family. But that’s fine. He has his looks, his ample allowance, and a smattering of one-night stands to keep him busy. But when Sascha’s oldest brother offends the wrong people, Sascha finds himself in hiding with a target on his back. And when poking around in his temporary home leads to accidentally summoning the hottest demon Sascha could ever imagine, he has to ask himself: does he want to feel powerless anymore?

Shane is straight out of prison, and plans to wreck everything dear to the man who put him behind bars. And number one on that list is Rosen, Ed Beck’s son. Shane’s plan is to incriminate the boy, but when the dreamy blue eyes meet his, Shane can think of a hundred other ways to ruin Rosen right under his father’s nose.

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.

Brady is my overprotective best friend, and I love him like this. He's so much bigger than me and makes me feel safe. We are opposites in so many ways, but when I'm cuddled up against him and he reads to me, all those differences fade away. Brady promises to be friends forever, but what will he say when he finds out my secret? Will I lose my best friend and the boy I love more than life itself?

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.

Though I was born with the ability to see the dead, I struggled with it until my brother was killed and his ghost was left behind. Now, I’m determined to figure out who is responsible for his death…the problem is that Detective Maddox Booker, the one working the case, is a grumpy and stubborn man who wants nothing to do with me and definitely doesn’t believe in ghosts. It doesn’t help that I keep finding myself looking ridiculous in front of the detective, thanks to interfering ghosts who enjoy laughing at my expense.

Being a hit man has its perks, but I never thought getting an accidental mooning by an attractive PI while he’s caught on a fence would be one of them. While it’s not exactly love at first sight, he’s captured my interest and won’t let go. Suddenly, I find myself caught in a game of cat and mouse, determined to attract the attention of Jackson, the PI who should be my enemy. He pretends like he’s not flattered by my flowers and the mentions of my totally-not-fictitious blow-up doll, Randy (or was it Dandy?), but I know better.

Danny Kingman is used to fending for himself. Working nonstop as an ER nurse to pay for his mother’s care, he’s been putting his own life on hold for as long as he can remember. But when an unbelievably hot, strangely intense man saves him from a mugging, Danny has a feeling everything is about to change. Especially when that man suddenly pops out a pair of fangs.

Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but the hot guy next door totally gives off serial killer vibes. Why else would he know how long it takes to bleed out from a wound? Yeah, ok, so I asked, but it was research. Being an author definitely makes for some odd questions (someone had better clear my browser history when I die, that's all I'm saying). It's not like I'm stalking my hot neighbor or anything—there's nothing wrong with watching him out my window. Although I might have my own stalker (and not the cute harmless kind), which is kind of terrifying.

Hockey is Gabe Martin's life. Dante Baltierra just wants to have some fun on his way to the Hockey Hall of Fame. Falling for a teammate isn't in either game plan. But plans change. When Gabe gets outed, it turns his careful life upside-down. The chaos messes with his game and sends his team headlong into a losing streak. The last person he expects to pull him through it is Dante.

Necromancer Shae loses more of himself every time he uses his magic. Always cold, always touch-starved, the only thing that helps is human contact. But Shae's dark powers scare everyone away. Even his new paladin bodyguard Arthur keeps his distance. Until Arthur finds Shae unconscious and shivering—and doesn't let go.

I don't ask for much from life; I get paid, and then I get laid. And piloting spaceships across the galaxy keeps my solo lifestyle well-funded. I don't need a relationship or any of the baggage that comes with it. I like my men like I like my coffee; to go. That is, until the most boring job in the universe goes horribly wrong and I'm snatched from my ship by a seven-foot alien. He's huge, he's purple, and he's ripped as hell. I'm sure I'm a dead man. Only it turns out he doesn't want to kill me. What he wants is far worse.

Caspien Deveraux was poison. It took me years to realise that he hadn't been born like that. He'd been cultivated and nurtured by a careful hand and a bitter heart. When I first met him, he was a bud. One primed to bloom beautifully and deadly. One I should have torn out at the root.