Charming, captivating, seductive—and a cold-blooded killer. I married the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva anyway. I had to, it was part of the deal. Now, I’m faking marital bliss as I tremble with fear, and I cannot wait to be out of the clutches of this ruthless man.

Love. Sucks. I don’t know where I went wrong. Whether it was letting a man convince me that suddenly, the things I’ve never wanted are right for me, or if simply believing the best in the person who I wasted three years of my life on was what lead me here.

No one knows Freya is actually the daughter of the Cross-Cut Killer, America's most notorious serial killer. Living under a false identity as a detective is isolating but at least Freya's safe. That is until she falls onto the radar of Special Agent River Park and his team. River, Oz, Elijah, and Jude have been chasing the Cross-Cut Killer for years. They're the best the FBI has to offer, not to mention unfairly attractive. They know exactly who the killer is but he's always one step ahead of them. Freya is about to change that.

Callum Griffin is the heir to the Irish mafia. He’s ruthless, arrogant, and he wants to kill me. We got off on the wrong foot when I set a (very small) fire in his house. Our families believe a marriage pact is the only thing that will prevent all-out warfare. I think I might need to murder him while he sleeps. This would all be a lot easier if Callum wasn’t so damned good-looking.

I caught her staring at me from across the quad, eyes fixed on the football jersey stretched across my wide chest. And if I flexed my muscles, showing off the strength of a defensive tackle, it was just to see her blush. And then she did, and I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Her wide eyes. The freckles on her cheeks. I needed to know her. The girl who scampered away every time we bumped into each other—by accident and by design.

I don't fall for women. Women fall for me. I'm Lake Decker, best running back in the league. Former. After a debilitating injury forced me to step back from my budding career, the last thing I thought I'd be doing was drooling at the feet of my stale-looking therapist. But her saucy attitude, strict professionalism, and the occasional shiner have my curiosities piqued.

I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me—because he didn’t have the balls to do it himself. I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn’t been enough for him, if I’d been stupid for marrying him in the first place. I’m at work one night when he walks inside—the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us.

I should have known I was in trouble when I backed my old, beat-up truck into the shiny Range Rover. The driver looked like a gorgeous fallen angel–one who’d been booted right out of paradise for being a giant prick. Good thing I’ll never have to see him again.

Flat on my back is not how I imagined meeting my new boss and hot-as-sin rock star. But here I am . . .If I didn’t already have amnesia, I’d be wishing for it now. In my defense, Laird Faris was only wearing a shameless smirk and a towel wrapped around his chiseled abs when we met. Brooding. Devastatingly handsome. Utterly intolerable. Naturally, I’m instantly attracted to him.

My dad and I have been estranged for years, but as his only living relative, it's no surprise I inherit his massive cattle ranch when he dies. But the stipulation in his will that requires me to live on the ranch and actively manage it for a year before I can access my inheritance money. I haven't stepped foot in Hartsville, Texas, population one thousand, since my parents split when I was six. Now a city girl through and through, I never imagined having to move back to cowboy country. But I need the money to invest in my company, and a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

To grandmother’s house I go, though I want nothing to do with magic or my former life. Especially not after being kicked out of the Fairy Fine Arts Academy. But when I find a dangerous, heavily scarred wolf shifter in my grandma’s bedroom, the fragile human lifestyle I've built from scratch is suddenly at stake. Magic, chaos, and my past is charging at me like a raging ogre on pixie sticks. My grandma is nowhere to be found, and I’m being hunted.

Football is my everything. I live, eat, breathe the sport. But when I transfer to McKee University to escape the distractions that nearly cost me my future in the NFL, I’m faced with another consequence: retake and pass the writing class I failed at my last college, or lose any chance I have at making it big. That’s where fellow senior Beckett Wood—gorgeous, stubborn, and just my type—comes in. She’s the key to my success in this class… but the price of her help is a fake relationship, and I never do things halfway.

Theo Graham is charming. Sweet. Absolutely gorgeous. But I’m not a little girl anymore. I shouldn’t want him. I can’t have him. I should know better than to want my best friend’s dad. My best friend is Theo’s son, who may or may not have had feelings for me on and off for the past eight years. Wanting my best friend’s dad was the one secret that was never supposed to come out. Except now, he wants me too.

If I had known how irrevocably my life was about to change, I would have walked the other way after talking to my coach. I should have taken any other route out of the Toronto Terror head office. But I didn’t and now–everything is different. At first I didn’t recognize the woman doing a victory dance down the hall when she thought no one was watching. Until she turned around. And that beautiful smile was aimed at me.

Marrying the 70-something head of the Cosa Nostra to save my father is the only good deed I’ve ever done. I’m burning and bitter under the fake smile and tight dresses, but I was keeping it together. Was. Until my fiancé’s nephew turns up to dinner uninvited. Angelo "Vicious" Visconti. A beautiful monster with cheekbones as sharp as his tongue. They say I shouldn’t be scared of him, because nine years ago, he went straight. He’s barely a Made Man anymore. But I say, he’s the most dangerous Visconti of all.