Cleopatra Paige hates one thing in this world - just one - and his name is Zachariah Prince. In grade school, he pulled at her pigtails. In middle school, he spread false rumors about her. And in high school, he ruined her prom. She hates that his smirks are unfairly sexy. And she definitely loathes that his dark eyes seem to follow her everywhere. Sometimes, even in her dreams. It doesn't matter that he's rich and popular, or that he lives in a freaking mansion full of butlers and maids. He's rude and arrogant, and she wants to stay as far away from him as possible

Sometimes I want to punch that smirk off Atlas McCallister's pretty face. He's cocky. A troublemaker. A pain. And, unfortunately, my stepbrother. We've been fire and kerosene since our parents got together, and to keep from exploding into fistfights, we've used challenges, dares, and bets to battle out our differences. Our past bets have been a little inappropriate—scandalous, even—but Atlas's latest bet has gone too far. Do I really believe if he loses, my straight stepbrother is gonna mess around with a guy? And not just any guy: me, his rival and nemesis?

Layla Robinson is not crazy. She is suffering from unrequited love. But it's time to move on. No more stalking, no more obsessive calling. What she needs is a distraction. The blue-eyed guy she keeps seeing around campus could be a great one - only he is the new poetry professor - the married poetry professor.

Of all the people who could have seen me when I was at my most vulnerable, it had to be him. Caleb. My stepbrother and the golden child of our messed up blended family. We barely know each other, but for some reason, he takes care of me when an incident at the club leaves me helpless and alone. He hates me as much as I hate him, but something about his bossy attitude and unflappable calm soothes me. I don't want to want him, but no one has ever made me feel the way he does.

Ever since we met two years ago, Eden Burkehammer has made everything better. The big defenseman sets me at ease. He’s a beast on the ice—brutal and physical—but when it’s the two of us, he turns to me with these unexpectedly soft brown eyes. This gravelly laugh that makes my whole body smile. And yeah, I might have thrown a glance his way a time or two in the steamed-up locker room showers—you know, just curious. But he’s my best friend. My teammate. Roommate. I don’t want to mess with that. Just the thought of losing him sends a cold zap the full length of my spine.

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.

Left without a job and evicted from the house she so carefully turned into a home, Aria is offered two choices: move back in with her brother . . . or take the job her brother's best friend offers her.

Desperate and out of options, Elena Rousseau walks into a gentlemen’s club, ready to sell her body in a last attempt to save her mother’s life. She didn’t expect Alexander Kennedy to be there, and she certainly didn’t expect him to propose a marriage of convenience instead.

I was stolen away and held prisoner in Italy, a bride for a mafia king's only heir. Except I'm no innocent, and it's the king himself—the man called il Diavolo—who appeals to me in sinful ways I never dreamed. Fausto's wickedness draws me in, his power like a drug. And when the devil decides he wants me, I'm helpless to resist him—even if it means giving myself to him, body and soul. He may think he can control me, but this king is about to find out who's really the boss.

Ever hear the story about the bodyguard who falls for the rock star? Yeah, it never ends well. Each day I remind myself that it's my job to protect Stone. And nowhere in the job description does it say I should lust after the charismatic, charming man. Especially since we're opposites. But every night I spend with him the dangerous, off-limits attraction grows more intense. Until one night in a limo when we combust.

Straight guys don’t have crushes on other dudes, right? Except my roommate, Whit, is intriguing, and I find myself watching him constantly. He’s a mystery I can’t figure out and these feelings I’m having about him are confusing. Then, one night, I find myself wrapped around him, and after that, I can't get enough. But Whit has secrets. He doesn’t let people in, and the more I fall for him, the less I know. I can't let him go, though. Until I realize I’m going to be the one broken at the end of our story.

I didn't know she was my student the first time I paid to watch her at Voyeur. Once she walked into my classroom, another smiling college freshman, I knew I should stop going. Stop watching. But I couldn't do it. Everything about her makes me want more, and once I realize she wants me too, the temptation becomes irresistible. The worst part is that she has no idea her professor is the one watching behind the glass. I just have to hope that once she finds out the truth, she wants the same thing I do. Because now that I've seen all of her, I can't look away.

This is Alabaster Penitentiary…where they send you when the world thinks you’re dead. And trust me, you’ll wish you were. We’re the stain on society. The freaks, the creeps, your favorite Netflix documentaries come to life. They lock us up and throw away the key, because we deserve it. But not me. I’m just a lowly bank robber. I don’t belong here, surrounded by psychopaths and killers with no remorse…At least, I don’t think I do.

Charles Preston Carmichael is the most infuriating man I've ever met. I want to sock the golden boy of college hockey right in the mouth. He enjoys telling me everything I'm messing up—publicly. And since he's my roommate for the next year, I can't avoid him. Yet there's something about him that makes me watch him. Something dark. A secret I want to uncover. When he returns from a weekend away, broken and haunted, I can't keep my distance anymore. He needs someone, and I'll be damned if it's not me.

I should have known I was in trouble when I backed my old, beat-up truck into the shiny Range Rover. The driver looked like a gorgeous fallen angel–one who’d been booted right out of paradise for being a giant prick. Good thing I’ll never have to see him again.