I didn't mean to star in a sex tape, okay? It was just one of those unexplainable things. Like Stonehenge, Police Academy 2, and morning glory clouds. It just happened. Now, my ball-busting father is sentencing me to six months of celibacy, sobriety, and morbid boredom under the roof of Boston's nerdiest girl alive, Sailor Brennan. The virginal archer is supposed to babysit my ass while I learn to take my place in Royal Pipelines, my family's oil company. Little does she know, that's not the only pipe I'll be laying....

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.

Brutal, cold, and illegally gorgeous, Dante Sartorre isn't just mafia royalty. He's also the tyrant owner of the infamously deviant and members-only Club Venom. He's also my new husband. In my defense, I wasn't supposed to be the bride. But I sealed my fate when I saved my friend by signing the Venom Devil's marriage contract myself. Now, he owns me. All of me…

I was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own.

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.

They say that all men are created equal. Well, that’s a blatant lie! I know, because I met God's gift to women in Vegas; I pretended he was my husband to get rid of another man. He took our fake marriage seriously, and it became his personal goal to consummate. He spoke to me in French, and I lied to him in German. His laughter was addictive. But I thought what happens in Vegas would stay in Vegas. Until it didn't.

I fell in love with Beckett when I was 7. He broke my heart when I was 15. When I was 18, I promised myself I’d forget about him. And I did. For a dozen years. But now he’s back home. Here. In Darling Lake. And I don’t know if I should give in to the temptation swirling between us or run the other way.

My name is Rachel Price, and two months ago, I walked away from the perfect man. Sweet and funny, and so hot it should be illegal—we shared one magical night. No names. No strings. I never thought I'd see him again. I was wrong. It turns out Mr. Perfect is the playboy grinder for the Jacksonville Rays, the NHL's hottest new hockey team . . . and I'm his new physical therapist. Oh, and the jerk doesn't even recognize me!

Sharing a summer house with a hot-as-hell roommate should be a dream come true, right? Not when it’s Justin…the only person I’d ever loved…who now hates me. When my grandmother died and left me half of the house on Aquidneck Island, there was a catch: the other half would go to the boy she helped raise. The same boy who turned into the teenager whose heart I broke years ago.

You want to know the secret to everlasting happiness? Never fall in love. That was the wisdom my father imparted to us James boys after our mom died, and it’s a piece of advice that’s served me well. Until dear old Dad asks me for a favor over Sunday brunch. No big deal, right? I love making my old man happy. Except this “favor” is a lot more complicated than picking up his dry cleaning. Dad wants me to marry and provide a few heirs for the James empire, and he’s even done me the courtesy of handpicking my bride-to-be. Lucky me.

Broken down, and wounded by my emotionally neglectful ex, I wanted someone to tell me I was good enough. Then, I stumbled into a new job with a boss who brought me to my knees - literally. He has me do things a real secretary would never do. Emerson Grant tells me I’m more than just good enough. I’m worthy of his praise. There are a million reasons why I should stay away. The owner of the Salacious Players’ Club is not just my new boss - he’s twice my age. And my ex-boyfriend’s father....I’m a good girl, but I’m falling for the wrong man.

For Nasir, former Special Ops military man and bodyguard, his new job seems like an easy-money gig: Trail a Russian mobster’s runaway wife in Mexico, enjoy the sun, observe, and report. Just one rule: Don’t get too close. But it’s all Naz can do not to watch the alluring dancer’s every move. A closer look is irresistible - especially when she’s in trouble.

I’m the ruling queen of Saint View Strip. After growing up poor, taking my clothes off and dancing for men is all I know. My thriving club and the people I employ are everything. They’re my ride or die, and I’m theirs.

The first time I laid eyes on Henley James, I was mesmerized. The chemistry between us was like nothing I’d ever felt. Impeccable suit, dimpled smile. He was charming and gorgeous, sophisticated and suave. He gave me his business card and asked me to call. His dating game was strong; I was gone from his first smile. I’d love to tell you our date was a raging success, but it wasn’t. Far from it. I decided right there on that day that Henley James and I would forever be mortal enemies; I would never think of him again.

Lev Zarkov is a real-life monster. No, correction, he's actually the devil. Except, when I first meet him, he's simply the mysterious, handsome man traveling next to me on a first-class flight to New York. And after being dumped at the altar by my loser fiancé who vanished into thin air the morning of our wedding, when things get flirty between me and the mysterious stranger, I think, why not? Surely, I deserve one night to forget. I mean, where's the harm in a little indulgence, right?