The Gargoyle and the Romance Writer

When Avery showed up for his temp job on Monday morning, he had certain expectations in mind. He was not expecting to end up bent over his new boss's desk. It was an innocent mistake, and he's determined to move on, but the experience left him breathless and more than a little curious. So when his new boss is left without a feeder, he volunteers to help. After all, that's what any good assistant would do. Right?

Working with kids is totally my jam, and I'm damn good at what I do. Just call me Maxy Frickin' Poppins! When a new job prospect comes my way, I'm intrigued. A chance to move to Mystic Hollow (aka Monsters Hollow) to be a well-paid manny for two adorable orclings? Talk about a dream position. Sold! But when I lock eyes with the seriously sexy orc who's their guardian—and my new de facto boss—for the first time, I'm a goner. Big, muscular, and green all over–he's giving me full-on Hulk meets stern professor vibes—and I like it.

I'm your typical small-town loser stuck in a dead-end job. Single, because dating is for well-adjusted human beings, not traumatized gay boys with trust issues. All I want is to leave my past behind and finally start living. My wish comes true in the most bizarre way imaginable. One evening, a beautiful man with pointy ears and flowing dark locks appears out of nowhere. He proclaims I am to be his 'Dark Companion' based on some stupid deal I made in a dream. Oh, and apparently he's an elven prince, the Lord of Shadows, Protector of the Nightmare Realm, and Knight of Grief Ocean.

There’s no way in Helgar's Nebula I’m marrying the candidate my parents have chosen for me. I don’t want to be the house-husband of some stoic warrior who only cares about training all day. Boring! Thankfully, I’ve learned a thing or two from all those rom-com human movies I’ve illegally downloaded off the intergalactic web. No one will see it coming when I pull a runaway groom maneuver on them!

At least that's what I tell myself when I witness the same hot guy commit mass murder three times in a few days. I'm either the luckiest mute boy ever or possibly the unluckiest. Who knows, maybe him kidnapping me will turn into the greatest love story ever told? Hey, it could happen! You never know how these things will turn out. I happen to believe in love and soulmates, and if nothing else, Arlington Fox doesn't treat my disability like a nuisance.

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.

Being a lifelong Chicago Thunder fan, I know that Blaine Olsen is trouble. Because all hockey players are. He's a notorious playboy, and I refuse to be another notch on his bedpost. But when he shows me the part of himself he keeps hidden, it gets harder to resist him.

As a divorced man in my thirties with a throwaway job and very few friends, I admit that I've made a lot of bad decisions over the years. Rounding out the top of that epic list was allowing my son's best friend, Quinn, to talk me into taking him on a two-week summer road trip... alone. What was supposed to be quality father-son bonding time before Joshua went off to college has somehow transpired into a battle of wills between me and his nineteen-year-old best friend. Quinn may be young, but he genuinely seems to enjoy spending time with me, something I've never experienced before.

At 40, Lan Davis is looking for his damned picket fence and two point five kids. What he doesn't expect is instead of a wife in the picture, his mind keeps conjuring up images of two men. One, his partner in the force, who is as straight as they came, the other an ex, who he'd hurt but never forgot. After an incident leaves Lan injured, the two men rally around him...only maybe they shouldn't have. It seems a medicated Lan is a truthful one.

The Firm has ruled St. Dismas for generations. To most, they’re just a myth. But in truth, they are the last resort of the desperate. I never understood why anyone would go to The Firm. There’s always a price to pay—a price you won’t discover until your request has been granted. It was a path I swore I’d never walk. Or so I thought. When my brother is gravely injured, everything changes. I have no choice but to go to The Firm. I don’t know what they’ll ask of me, but I’ll give anything to save Jackson. He has his whole life ahead of him, and I’ll make sure he gets to live it.

Falling for my girlfriend’s twin brother wasn’t what I had in mind when I hired him to be my son’s nanny. Working on my family’s cattle ranch, the hours are long, and sometimes unpredictable, so when my regular nanny quits, leaving me in a pinch, I have to think fast. In walks Ash Tudor. My opposite in almost every way. He’s cheerful and bubbly, has horrible taste in music, and does yoga in my yard almost every morning in the tightest shorts I’ve ever seen. Not that I’m looking.

Adam is not having a good day. First, he finds out his very long-time boyfriend has been having an affair. Then, his dramatic exit becomes a little too dramatic when he ends up dead. To top it off, he finds out that the afterlife isn't at all what he expected (he has no desire to learn to play the harp, thank you very much). Fortunately for him, some afterlife bureaucratic screw-up ends him up with the most smoking-hot demon he's ever seen, and he decides he's keeping him. Maybe the afterlife won't be so bad after all.

No, seriously. Talon wants to know what he did to deserve this. What would make a sentient rock decide that he of all people should be the one to save the world from zombies? That’s right. Zombies. Because apparently a higher power decided that teaching magic to teenagers wasn’t enough of a challenge.

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.

Being a hitman is the loneliest of jobs. We don't have many friends. Some don't even have family. Lovers? Try explaining to your boyfriend why there's blood on your shirt. Christmas is the worst time to be alone. This year, love is in the cards for me, all thanks to a letter I found in the street. It reads, "Dear Santa, all I want for Christmas is revenge…"