Harrison Phillip Fletcher III isn't supposed to be here. Not in Burlington, Vermont, not running Vino & Veritas, a quaint inclusive bookstore and wine bar, and definitely not still alive, at 42. Also not supposed to be here? An unexpected delivery of chickens. Finn Barnes knows chickens. The burly organic farmer knows all about rare breed poultry, but dealing with a hot older bookseller is an entirely different matter. City-slicker types like Harrison never end up staying in Vermont for the long-term. They should steer clear of each other. But the flare of attraction is mutual. 

I'm not the obvious choice to run Burlington's coolest wine bar - quiet, brooding, clueless about tannin content, and always one wrong turn away from another downward spiral. But no one seems to mind that I'm a wreck. Besides me. I just focus on getting through each shift until the night a beautiful stranger appears, looking as lost and damaged as I feel.

I’m everyone’s friend, but no one’s everything...I love working for Ballsy Boys, but when you make the kind of videos I do, relationships are pretty damn impossible. Guys find me sexy and want to either be with me or be me, but no one has ever cared enough to see the real me. Until I meet Troy...who shows up in a banana suit at my door. Long story.

Life doesn’t always pan out as you expect. When it explodes in my face, literally, an old friend offers me a place to heal and a job renovating the kitchen of Burlington’s coolest wine bar. V&V is a chill fest. Living above it should be a blast. But I’m not built to be a social butterfly. Not anymore. I’m a damaged man. And I’m not its target clientele. At least, I think I’m not until I come face-to-face with the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen.

Accepting my career in the Army is over after losing my leg is hard. But the obnoxious, good looking, glass-half-full surfer in my physical therapy sessions is worse. And god help him if he doesn’t stop trying to give me advice. Living in a home with three of my closest veteran buddies is a challenge as we all have our crosses to bear and wounds to heal from, but mine only seem to be getting deeper with every step forward I take. I already have to adjust to a new life as a civilian. I don’t need a sexuality crisis to go with it.

Who are we? Nobody really knows. We’re seven powerful heirs to empires, ruling Manhattan from our thrones on Park Avenue. By day, we’re the elite, untouchable, and more connected than you could ever imagine. By night, we revel in the darkness of our secrets, pulling strings that make the city bow to our whims.

Grace was one of the most decorated sharpshooters in the Marines. He's fiercely committed to righting the wrongs that plague the world and protecting the innocent. But there are too many rules and strict orders in the armed forces the Ravens don't have. Mirage left his world without a trace. He has a brilliant mind and more degrees in science and medicine than one person could ever hope to obtain.

"Red Wine and Blood": The Blood Wars raged for centuries across Boston. Witness a brief glimpse into the brutal history of the Wars with Ignacio Salvatore and the vampire he loves, Ashwin Metcalfe, in 1897. "A History of Trouble": Angel was joking when he asked O'Malley if someone resurrected a mammoth. Little did he know that was exactly what someone did. "A Dragon in the City": What happens when Eroch goes adventuring in Beacon Hill without Angel? Chaos, pure chaos. "Fae's Gold": Daniel is helping the newly-resurrected fae, Ruairi Brennan, become accustomed to modern-day living.

Angelus Salvatore is the only necromancer in all of Boston, and his name is whispered warily by the undead and fellow sorcerers alike. He and his brother Isaac are the lone survivors of an attack by an army of the undead, in which Angel used a spell so powerful it forever marked his place in history. Now, years later, Angel struggles to balance his career as a teacher of the higher magical arts, his role as big brother, and a tenuous relationship with an Elder vampire from the local clan.

At first, I thought it would be an easy payday. A few pew pews for bad people, a couple of suitcases of cash for me. People have done worse for an honest living. The problem is that after a couple of jobs, I’ve never actually managed to unalive someone, and not for lack of trying. Apparently, a basic requirement of a hitman is being a good shot. Despite my constant duck-ups, I’m given another name, and I very nearly follow through. Only after obliterating this guy’s ear and his fervent pleading to spare him, I’ve sent him into hiding and collected the cash anyway.