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 the fun one. The loud one. The overly opinionated one with no filter. I’ve been unapologetically me since day one, and it hasn’t been easy. Kicked out of my home when I was sixteen, I chose to be alone rather than not be my true self. I found my family now and a job I love. I have everything, and yet I’m still an outcast in so many ways...

I like to party; to have a good time. Life’s too short not to. I learned that when I lost my grandpa. He told me to have fun while I can, and I intend to. Though sometimes when you’re having a good time, you forget others may see you as irresponsible. And sometimes you screw up. I’ve definitely screwed up a time or two, but I’m still determined to have fun. I’m hoping I’ll convince my best friend, Camden, to do the same along the way. He’s too serious. Too focused. Too busy taking care of everyone to just relax. And that’s where I come in.

Reed Ellis is absolutely gorgeous but a total newbie to camming, a virtual nobody in my world. I should have just deleted his message request for a steamy on-camera collaboration. Not everyone is cut out to be a camboy. But there's just something about him I couldn't resist. He's timid and inexperienced, quiet and closed off, but his fumbling first times play out scorching hot for the cameras, and our videos together are an instant success. I know I should just ride this out, sit back and watch the money roll in, and then move on.

Spark of Hope: A bi-weekly trauma support group. This is my nightmare. When I think of a support group, I think of sad people sitting around talking about their feelings and nothing changing. And yet, when my brother and his best friend, who happens to be a therapist, presented the idea of holding the meetings at my gym, I caved. Because I, Benjamin Price, have always tried to rescue the people in my life. But I can’t. I’ve usually failed them.