Lowen Ashleigh is a struggling writer on the brink of financial ruin when she accepts the job offer of a lifetime. Jeremy Crawford, husband of best-selling author Verity Crawford, has hired Lowen to complete the remaining books in a successful series his injured wife is unable to finish. Lowen arrives at the Crawford home, ready to sort through years of Verity's notes and outlines, hoping to find enough material to get her started. What Lowen doesn't expect to uncover in the chaotic office is an unfinished autobiography Verity never intended for anyone to read.

Ryder, Garrett, Kenzo, and Diesel - The Vipers. Their deals are as sordid as their business, and their reputation is enough to bring a grown man to his knees, forcing him to beg for mercy. They are not people you mess with, yet my dad did. The old man ran up a debt with them and then sold me to cover his losses. Yes, sold me. They own me now. I’m theirs in every sense of the word. But I’ve never been meek and compliant.

Five Years Earlier: Henry Dunne knows three things: that agreeing to host this raucous house party was a terrible idea, that he absolutely cannot show up to his nursing shift tomorrow with a hangover, and that the beautiful redhead in the corner will be sleeping in his bed tonight.

Obituary writer Nadine Barbault doesn’t mind being called “Lady Death”. It suits the ice queen persona she’s cultivated to survive the fast-paced Toronto Herald. So when Nadine learns that famous (and reclusive) author Dot Voline has died, she doesn’t hesitate to run the obituary…only to discover that Dot is very much alive. Nadine’s screw-up has brought Wesley Chen of the rival Spear no end of joy—she’s been a thorn in his extremely ambitious side for years. But the renewed interest in Dot also surfaced chatter about a mysterious past scandal.

We're not free to give into this. She's 19, and I'm 38. And I'm her boyfriend's father. Unfortunately, they both just moved into my house.

To survive in the Los Muertos Cartel, you have to stay useful, especially when you're a woman. So I made sure I couldn't be replaced. Now my name is whispered about in the shadows—La Brujita de Los Muertos. Too bad I forgot that lies and deceit are the lifeblood of this toxic paradise. I should have seen the betrayal coming. My hands were always destined to be drenched in the blood of guilty men.

My villain, my monster, my vicious Knight… I’m supposed to be a secret. No one can know my true identity. Or that I’m a dead girl walking. But I caught the attention of the one guy my parents warned me to stay away from. Thorne Ivanov reigns supreme at Raventhorn University, home of the Knights, one of the most powerful secret societies in the world. An heir to its leader, Thorne is as devastatingly handsome as the dark villains in movies you're not supposed to like—but you do.

I hated the gangs that ruled my city. After my friend was killed and my father vanished, I had no choice but to infiltrate one to figure out why. Entering their infamous club quickly showed me I was in over my head. Then the most feared gang leader took an interest in me. Arran was corrupt, deadly, and his searing gaze both terrified and tempted me. In my search for answers, I stumbled into his dark and dangerous game. The result? I belonged to him, with no chance of escape. In a heartbeat, I became Arran’s obsession. And in a terrible twist, I think he’s becoming mine.

I used to fantasize about meeting a masked madman who would love me endlessly and obsessively. He would look after me in a world where no one else did. He would manipulate all the strings that held up my life until I had exactly the one I wanted. And then one night, I met him. Only he wasn't the hero I always imagined he would be. When we left the forest together that night, I thought I'd escaped the villains relatively unscathed, but my true villain was the man whose arms I felt safest in.

Phoenix Montgomery is my sister's ex-fiancé. Billionaire heir and freshly released from prison. One glance is all it takes to rekindle our old hatred. Now, I'm forced to marry him. To live with him. To pretend I'm in love with him. But he doesn't know our lives are tangled in lies. He doesn't know I have a stalker. And now, he's a target too. My goal is to survive. His is to make my life hell.

Eriu Quinn is off-limits. Too young. Too innocent. And far too forbidden. Her father is the head of the Irish Mob. And I'm just her bodyguard tasked to keep her safe. She's my job, but she's also a maddening temptation. One I need to stay away from. But I underestimate that feisty little spitfire. She creeps under my skin. Pushes all of my buttons. Until I unravel...

Charming, captivating, seductive—and a cold-blooded killer. I married the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva anyway. I had to, it was part of the deal. Now, I’m faking marital bliss as I tremble with fear, and I cannot wait to be out of the clutches of this ruthless man.

My dad and I have been estranged for years, but as his only living relative, it's no surprise I inherit his massive cattle ranch when he dies. But the stipulation in his will that requires me to live on the ranch and actively manage it for a year before I can access my inheritance money. I haven't stepped foot in Hartsville, Texas, population one thousand, since my parents split when I was six. Now a city girl through and through, I never imagined having to move back to cowboy country. But I need the money to invest in my company, and a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

I’ve always been a wild card–the first to start a fight on the ice, and the life of the party off it–but appearances can be deceiving. Being traded to the Boston Rebels could not have come at a better time. With serious family obligations to fulfill and a contract renewal with a new hockey team on the line, I have no time for anything else. I return to Boston knowing I need to buckle down and focus on what really matters.

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.