Oakley Farrow is your typical high school senior. He stays up late, cramming for finals. He has impossible deadlines to meet. He worries about his future as graduation lurks just around the corner. He has to defend himself from his abusive uncle. He has to keep his sister safe. He has to survive the constant torture from his bully, Asher Brooks—the seemingly arrogant and cruel star quarterback. Okay… so maybe not your typical high school senior.

I'm trapped in the middle of nowhere with the sexiest man I've ever seen... what could possibly go wrong? My family sent me here thinking it would help lift my mood. When I think about it now, I realise I didn’t give nearly enough thought to what it would be like, or what I’d be doing on a farm. If anything, I had a vague, nebulous notion that it would be like some sort of retreat. Boy, was I wrong. Far from relaxing, I now find myself tending to actual sheep. If you knew me at all, you’d know how preposterous that is.

He's a bad man, and I don't mean trash like your ex. I mean seriously bad. I mean dangerous. You can tell just by looking at him: black eyes, a menacing scowl, and a nose that's been badly broken in the past. He is my arch-nemesis. My mortal enemy. My singular obsession. I was afraid of him when we met. He kidnapped and chained me to a bed. Me—Damon Alexander Beckett of BeckIT fame and fortune. Well, the joke's on him because I'm going to make it my life's mission to destroy him. But first, I have to survive being his captive.

When I’m tossed into the trunk of a car, I realize that what little luck I have has finally run out—especially when I find that Tony, the man who’d abducted me, is planning on using me to get back at my father. My chances for escape look pretty bleak when I’m handcuffed to Tony’s bodyguard, an intimidating man named Shepherd who apparently loves tight shirts and seems to be amused by making my life miserable. Soon, though, I learn that Shepherd has a heart and a brain.

A gift bestowed. A time that is borrowed. A seed must be sowed, a strike to be sorrowed. Unveil the smoke to a world that is cloaked near a well at the end sits seven streams to defend. Nine trees of wisdom and the darkness of light. Chaos will come for all those who fight. A true death and a love that is bound by fate and fortune and all nine realms. Taint and trials, cruelty and lies. The Gods must fall before all can rise.

Fate works in mysterious ways—and this Valentine’s Day, it’s feeling particularly mischievous. From accidental Zoom crashes to graveyard resurrections, six beloved romance authors bring you a collection of increasingly steamy second chances.

There's no one worse for me to want in my bed than Jake Tully. He's hot and grumpy and literally a terrible idea. Terrible. Worse, no one has ever made me feel the way he does—valued. But here I am, thinking about him again. Falling for my sponsor is not my worst idea yet, but it's damn close.

Catch up with the original monster-human couple, Danny and Wyn, in their Wastes-style adventures. Witness Moth and Wyn's blossoming and potentially concerning friendship. Find out all the new ways Edin has been frustrating Hunter (lovingly) since their story ended. And join Lor and Jugs in welcoming a new furry addition to their monster-world family.

I’ve had a crush on my brother’s best friend since the moment I laid eyes on him four years ago. Warner Ramsey is 225 pounds of pure hotness, a media darling, and one of the best NFL quarterbacks in the league. Hell, he’s the reason I figured out I’m solidly bi. It was easy to keep my crush under control when I was in college. Now, we play for the same team, and every time he talks smack, I want to shut him up. With my mouth.

My loser high school friend never deserved him anyway. If I’d had the chance, I would have locked Remy down years ago. Only, when the party leads to a drunken kiss, going on their honeymoon, and sharing their marital bed, I have to say, I’m not entirely sad that their wedding went up in flames.

No one tells you what to do when the boy who shattered your heart comes back to steal it. Roman Riviera was my everything once upon a time. I found my knight in shining armor in the form of a fellow foster kid. He protected me and promised to stand by my side forever. But Roman Riviera is a liar. He left me with monsters.

I’m in love with my best friend. Lie. I’m in love with my enemy. Truth. But they’re the same. They. Are. The. Same. Lines in my world are blurry between fantasy and reality. Truth and lies. Love and hate. Copeland Justice is my enemy. My once best friend. The sadist in my heart plucking and pulling at every thread of who I am until I’m unraveled at his feet. His mouth says he hates me. His eyes burn with animosity for me. His heart beats for someone else. But Copeland Justice is the best liar of us all.

Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but the hot guy next door totally gives off serial killer vibes. Why else would he know how long it takes to bleed out from a wound? Yeah, ok, so I asked, but it was research. Being an author definitely makes for some odd questions (someone had better clear my browser history when I die, that's all I'm saying). It's not like I'm stalking my hot neighbor or anything—there's nothing wrong with watching him out my window. Although I might have my own stalker (and not the cute harmless kind), which is kind of terrifying.

He makes me lose all control. Ex-Special Forces and current CEO of Sinro Enterprises, I sacrifice my personal life and health to lead mercenary teams dedicated to wiping out high-profile criminals. My working hours are endless. My schedule is rigid. I leave no room for normal things like relationships. Until a pretty little thief breaks into my high-rise and shatters what I'd come to believe was peace. I find myself hesitating to pull the trigger for the first time.

Every bartender should follow one simple rule—don't go home with the customers. That’s been easy for me to stick to, until the night a cocky, confident, and sinfully charming hockey star walks into my bar. This sexy athlete is too hard to resist, especially when he makes it clear how much he wants the “sarcastic, witty, hot AF” guy behind the bar—also known as me.