Perhaps the most striking thing about these stories is that all ten are set in New York City.
Of course, a collection of stories set in New York is hardly remarkable in and of itself; if you took a copy of every such series ever published, you could probably repave all five boroughs with a couple books left over to stick on your shelf at home. It might strike one as odd, however, to find one included here, on a site entitled Werewolves of Jersey.
These particular stories were written over the course of 2010 and 2011. Some, like "A Warm Spring Day on Christopher Street," fix their locales firmly in place with specific mentions of this or that bar, street, or neighborhood. But even those others that manage to omit any direct reference to such concrete landmarks were still written six or seven years after I first moved to Brooklyn, and so–in my mind at least–they're as irrevocably set in New York as they would've been had I included GPS coordinates to track each character's movements.
But then, New York City belongs to New Jersey just as much as it does to New York State–which is to say not at all. That metropolis exists as an entity onto itself, with a greater gravitational pull than any outlying area could possibly hope to match–which means everything within its orbit is invariably sucked into the same mix and swirled up together. Long Island is virtually indistinguishable from the Jersey Shore; the only real difference is that Billy Joel's a hero in one while the other worships Springsteen.
Still, although all the characters here may have, like me, become New Yorkers over time, you can always take the boy out of the bridges and tunnels, but you can never yada, yada, yada . . .