Megan acosta

My name is Melody Cameron. Or so I’ve been told. When I wake up in the hospital with no memories, I’m shipped off to Denver to live with a distant cousin who knows nothing about me. If family can’t help me remember my past, who will? I don’t expect it to be a gorgeous hockey player 10 years younger than me. He knows things about me he has no right to know. Yet, he still keeps secrets. He makes me work for every answer while he unlocks my desire—and fear. Still. I’m blind. Naive. And when his twisted obsession becomes apparent, it’s too late. For both of us.

Heir to the notorious Tenebrae Outfit, Dante Maroni has been trained since birth. A silent rebel in the shadows, he has learned to hide his ruthlessness under his charm, his brutality under his suits, and his love for one woman under his silence. Infiltrating the Syndicate responsible for the missing children, Dante discovers information that shatters his reality and forces him to trigger a lethal game.

Her dresses are too tight, her heels too tall. She laughs too loudly, eats without decorum, and mixes up most sayings in the book. Little do most know it’s just a sparkly disguise, there to hide one panic attack at a time. Nobody can crack Gianna’s facade...no one anyway, until he comes along. In the New York underworld, others know him as a hustler, a killer; his nature as cold as the heart of ice in his chest. Christian Allister has always followed the life plan he’d envisioned in his youth, beneath the harsh lights of a frigid, damp cell.

Who am I? I've forgotten the answer to that question long ago. Ever since I ran from that house, so desperate to escape, I left with only the clothes on my back and socks on my feet. After that day, I've only ever walked in stolen shoes.

Gorgeous, cocky, and fast on his way to becoming a hotshot doctor, Josh Chen has never met a woman he couldn't charm—except for Jules f**king Ambrose. The beautiful redhead has been a thorn in his side since they met, but she also consumes his thoughts in a way no woman ever has. When their animosity explodes into one unforgettable night, he proposes a solution that'll get her out of his system once and for all: an enemies with benefits arrangement with simple rules.

I fell for the villain. It happened back when I was a clueless girl. But he ruthlessly broke my heart and trapped it in a jar. Since then, I’ve sworn to hate him to the end of my days. Eli King might be a savage devil, but I’m out of his way. And league. That is until I wake up in a hospital and find him holding my hand. He tells me the words that change my life forever.

When I was nine, I went to my first funeral. Along with accepting my father's death, I had to accept new and awful truths I wasn't prepared for. When I was nineteen, I went to my mother's funeral. We weren't close, but with her gone, I became more alone than ever before. Sure, I have a half-brother who runs The Alliance. And yeah, he's given me his protection—in the form of a bodyguard and chauffeur. But I don't have anyone that really knows me. No one to really love me. Until I meet him. The man in the airport.

Running away from home at 17 wasn't easy. Let's face it, though, nothing before or in the ten years since has ever been easy for me. And I'm doing okay—sorta. I just need to keep scraping by, living under the radar. Staying out of people's way, off people's minds. When a man walks through my open patio door, stepping boldly into my home and my life, I should be scared, frightened, terrified. I must be more broken than I realized because I'm none of those things. I'm intrigued—and I'm wondering if the way to take control of my life is by giving in to him.

It’s a ghost town, this place that haunts me, the one that made me. It’s clear to me that I’ll never outgrow Triple Falls or outlive the time I spent here. I can still feel them all, my boys of summer. Even when I'd sensed the danger, I gave in. I didn’t heed a single warning. I let my sickness and my love both rule and ruin me. I played my part, eyes wide open, tempting fate until it delivered. There was never going to be an escape. All of us are to blame for what happened. All of us are serving our own sentences.

The first letter arrived the day my husband was buried. It was postmarked from the state penitentiary, and contained a single sentence: I’ll wait forever if I have to. It was signed by Dante, a man I didn’t know. Out of simple curiosity, I wrote back to ask him what exactly he was waiting for. His reply? You.