Sticks and stones may break our bones…Hockey is my life. After Wren Davis puts my dreams of the NHL in jeopardy, I vow to make her life hell if she ever comes near me again. But she’s my best friend’s foster sister, and even though they don’t live together anymore, their bond is still tight, which makes avoiding each other extra difficult.

I've loved him as long as I can remember. The gangly boy with big brown eyes and unruly hair who grew up into an intoxicating man. He wears scruff like he invented it and ambles with a swagger that makes panties drop. Killian Shepard. Shep. We grew up together. We played Ghost in the Graveyard. Had our own rock band. It didn't matter that he was five years older than me. It didn't matter that he looked at me as a kid sister even as I grew into woman.

When a music audition at the world-renowned LaGuardia Arts High School brings together two thirteen-year-olds, unassuming Aurelia Ramirez Preston and confident Chadwick David, the serendipitous encounter becomes an unbreakable friendship. A friendship develops into an unyielding love—a love spanning decades and continents. With New York City as their playground, best friends Chad and Aurelia navigate the turbulence of adolescence. They blossom, and so does their love. An awkward first date turns into a night of intoxicating kisses and together, they lose their innocence.

It was dark, and in my defense, he was tall, muscled, and smelled like the most tempting sin. I couldn't resist, and the second he touched me, I knew I was never going to be the same. It was a night filled with the kind of intensity a woman could only ever dream of. Nothing could have tainted such perfectness. At least, that's what I thought. Because the delicious man I let rail me into oblivion isn't the perfect stranger I thought he was. No, he's anything but.

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.

Murderer. Unhinged. Remorseless. Insane. I’ve been called it all while rotting away in a maximum security psych ward, imprisoned for my crimes. When I’m given a chance to escape this hell, it’s an offer I can’t refuse. I’m transferred to Blackwood Institute, purgatory for the dangerous and disturbed. The deal is simple. Complete the three-year experimental program and you’re free to leave. I have no such intentions. People like me; we’re born to die. There’s no life for me out there. I’ll do whatever it takes to end my pitiful existence.

One evening, two years’ worth of memories lost. Under the pretense of recovery, my father sends me to an elite boarding college, but soon, my memories start rushing back, and it’s obvious I’m not at Lakeside to heal. I’m here to hide. Navigating the scattered past to decipher the threat lurking in the shadows is hard while I’m kept in the dark and even harder when he steals my focus. Crude, arrogant, and threatening, he draws me in, and the closer I get, the less I understand. Waking up without memories is terrifying, but remembering the time I lost is infinitely worse.

I've always shot for the moon, but if you'd told me I'd be earning seven figures at twenty-four, I would never have believed you. And if you'd told me that I'd earn every penny of that success by selling my body and my soul, I'd have laughed in your face. Still. Here I am at Seraph, an elite agency that recruits only the most well-educated, accomplished and discreet women. Our area of expertise? "Full service" executive assistants to the most powerful men in the world.

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…

"Give me a second chance, babe . . . and I'll blow your mind." Monroe doesn't know why she answers the text that's obviously meant for someone else. Or why she keeps answering. Maybe it's because she's all alone in a big city and in desperate need of a lifeline. Or maybe it's because each exchange leaves her intrigued and more than a little turned on.

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.

A sizzling friends-to-lovers novella about a marriage of convenience - and a jaw-dropping misunderstanding - between a notorious bad boy and the one woman he’s always wanted, but can’t have.

When my husband died, he left my broken heart behind. He left another heart behind, too - his.
I know it's wrong. I shouldn't be contacting the recipient of my husband's heart. I don't even expect him to reply.... But there's a desperate, twisted part of me that hopes he will. No names. No personal details. Just a conversation. The only thing I have left of my husband is inside him.

The Obsidian Order only cares about three things: secrecy, loyalty, and power. Every man born to the founding families is bred for this purpose, to serve the society and its objectives. As a result, we are the elite. Untouchable. Unbreakable. If we make it through the Trials. I will, as long as my obsession doesn't get the best of me. This girl… If the Order doesn't kill me, she'll be the death of me. Because I won't give her up. She's mine.

I can’t remember anymore if my grandfather’s eyes were blue or green, but I’ll never forget the way they wrinkled at the corners when he laughed at one of his own jokes. Or the way they sparkled with mischief when he told me tales about the magical creatures that dwelled in the forest behind his humble Irish sheep farm. As a child, I believed every fantastical word. But when he warned me about the mute boy who also lurked in those woods, the one the priest had declared to be the spawn of Satan himself, I refused to listen.