They said write what you know so that's what I did. I wrote dirty, I wrote erotic, I wrote the truth. And then they called me a liar. But it's not me who's lying, it's them. Our story isn't for everyone. It's not even for us. So if you're looking for the fairy tale and the stupid prince on his dumb white horse, move along. You've got a hold of the wrong book. This is not your story, this is not your life, and this is not your opportunity to dip your frightened little toe into the dark pool of water and "try new things" and then pull it out and decide... #NotForMe.

They call him the Sick Heart. They say he's a shameless monster. They say he's a ruthless killer. They say he's as twisted as the man who owns him. They say a lot of things about Cort van Breda. But in our world violence is money, and money is winning, and winning is life, and life is the only thing that matters. Except...he wasn't meant to win that last fight. And I wasn't meant to be his prize. But he did. And I am. And now his sick heart owns me.

Evangeline's life is dark and lonely. She'll do anything to change that. Anything. Even play a game with a stranger she's never met. What starts out as "therapy" soon turns into a passionate anonymous love affair. Her blindfold is like a security blanket and his touch is what lights a fire inside her.

I’m a hot-as-eff, inked-up tattoo artist at the trendiest shop in the Rocky Mountains. I have the looks; I have the bike; I have the reputation. That means I get the ladies. Sure. There are lots of women out there who hate tattoos. Wouldn’t be caught dead with guys like me. And that’s fine. I’m not looking for girls like that. I’m looking for that other kind of girl. The hot one, the bad one, the crazy one. Funny thing is...the one I fell for isn’t that girl. She’s the good girl.

Thirteen years before Emma Dumas bought me in a bachelor auction to teach me a lesson, she stole my heart down on Key West. I fell so hard for this girl, I made all the promises. Only with Emma, I really meant them. And then I disappeared. But it wasn’t my fault. Let’s just call my reason “Family Business”. I’d tell you what that business is, but then I’d have to kill you. Just kidding. I can’t tell you what my family business is because it’s so secret, even I don’t know.