Crystal Smith

He'll never let me go. I'll never stop running. When the bratva try to get me to throw my championship fight, I flip them one middle finger and decimate their candidate. I knew my actions wouldn't go unpunished, but I didn't care. I'm unbreakable. I’m surrounded, outmanned, outgunned and I'm ready to fight my way out. I think I’m all alone until a familiar, deep British voice says, “Play fair now. The lady gets to beat you, one at a time.” My one-night-stand has deep connections I knew nothing about, and he's willing to start a war just to get me where he wants me.

The day my wife slept with my best friend, everything fell apart. There was only one person I could turn to–my teammate and secret desire, Trinity "Taz" Guerro. We shared one passionate night. I woke up alone, without even a note on the dresser. She called it a mistake. I called it a new beginning.

“My name is Rylee and I am a Tracker.” When children go missing, and the Humans have no leads, I’m the one they call. I am their last hope in bringing home the lost ones. I salvage what they cannot. I’m on the FBI’s wanted list. I have a werewolf for a pet, a Witch of a best friend, and have no need for anyone else in my life.

Rebecca Wareman and Lucas Marshall have found their happily ever after. Or have they? Rebecca finds herself finally free from running. Her daughter is safe and thriving. The monster has been slayed. But what happens when trauma catches up with her and she’s left alone with her thoughts?

After finding out the baby his fiancée is carrying is not biologically his, Theo Reeves leaves town and vows to never come back. That is until, 22 years later he returns to handle his late mother’s estate. The hatred of being back in his hometown drives him to a dive bar just outside city limits. A night he planned on spending alone and drinking away the memories, is interrupted by a blonde half his age he can't help but be drawn to. Something about her green eyes and the way she despises this town nearly as much as he does, has him wanting to make some reckless decisions.

The Irish Mafia used the Four Art Gallery to launder money. What's good enough for the mob was good enough for us. My organization has sworn to take down the criminal underground. The Greens reigned supreme over my beloved city, and it was time to burn them down. My job is to launder money for our operations, and gather intel. I was never supposed to be noticed. But then I marveled at a painting on the wall... a painting made by a true artist. A master of his craft. It made me gasp, "Who did this?"

“I do.” Words I never thought would escape my lips. Now they bound me to the charismatic head of the Volkov Bratva, Nikolai Volkov. His mesmerizing blue eyes, charming smile, and silky smooth voice would be my downfall, and yet, also my salvation. The two simple words would also be a personal vow to destroy my stepmother and enemies. If I’m forced to be bound to the mafia life forever then I’ll show them all. I’ll show them how far this ‘angel’ has fallen. I’m not a pawn like they all think.

A prophecy foretold of a journey across the seas that would solve all my problems. But now I'm stuck between an old flame who wants to rekindle what we had, and a jealous vampire who would take the other's head if permitted. Did I mention the psycho goddess Lilis, stalking our every move, intent on killing us all? Despite our troubles, what started out as a cobbled-together faction destined to fail is finally starting to rise to the challenge.

I retired from the Army Special Forces, purchased a bucolic little Upstate farm, and intended to spend my winter years restoring the ancient house, away from people. It wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be, but it was too late to change course now. When I got a call from an old colleague, everything changed. A favor was owed. A wounded agent needed a place to lie low and hide out from the criminal organization that was hard on their heels.

According to the FBI, I was considered a serial murderer after three kills. What do they call me after fifty-two? They call me the Silencer. One final bullet would have been all it took to stop me from taking another soul, and I would have been doing Meridian City a service by pulling that trigger. An angel crying for help stopped me, and that night, I took three lives for her. Then three turned into eight. Then eight turned into twenty. Twenty turned into twenty-one. Twenty-one turned into twenty-three.