Rafe Blackstone may play the sexiest werewolf superhero to ever melt a woman's...heart...on the big screen, but Lily Hollander has already been bitten once by an actor, and once was enough. When she's fooled all over again, it's time to put that wayward heart in lockdown mode, especially once Rafe starts aiming his overprotective streak at her identical twin. Lily may seem like the softer side of the twinship, but nobody messes with her sister.

Brett Hunter’s life isn’t unicorns and rainbows, and it sure isn’t sparkles. He’s a businessman, a disciplined man, a money man, and if he ever believed in magic, it was a long time ago. He’s not a hero, and he doesn't play one on TV. Oh, and he really doesn't like the water. What’s he doing, then, on an Australian beach in a custom-made Italian suit, up to his waist in the waves and helping a red-haired mermaid save the day?

Harlan Kristiansen may not be good at many things, but he can sure catch a pass. He’s an All-Pro at charming a room, too, and then there’s that Norse God thing. He can even figure out how to tackle a woman and save her from a charging bison. On skis. What happens when you drop that game-winning pass, though, and your house is too big, too weird, and too empty? When your dad’s a mean drunk, your mom took off a long time ago and stayed gone, and all your money can’t keep your little sister safe? You fall back on what you know, that’s what.

You don’t find many too-pretty rich boys in the New Zealand Defense Force. Turns out there’s a reason for that. Fortunately, you can find your true self in the oddest places. Of course, you can lose yourself in those places, too - at least some pieces of you. Since I was back home with a new leg, some facial alterations, and time on my hands, I might as well help out my sister. Showing a buyer around New Zealand’s ecotourism sites, having a few adrenaline-fueled adventures? Fine. It wasn’t like I’d never been camping, unlike the walking tornado that was Miss Karen Sinclair.

People who say “love is trust” probably didn’t grow up in a cult. My name is Daisy Nabhitha Kittredge. I chose it myself. As an RN in the emergency department in one of New Zealand’s largest hospitals, there wasn’t much left in me of the 16-year-old girl, covered from neck to ankle and not allowed to make eye contact with a boy, who’d run away with five dollars in her pocket and terror in her heart.