The second our eyes meet, I feel it. The ticking clock. It's only a matter of time before we come together. Before the heat that arcs between us turns into a conflagration. But he's a mobster. An O’Donnelly. His notoriety is legendary. I'm a journalist. I expose men like him, which is how I built my reputation.

In my world, women are property. Made to be owned. Born for one reason - to be tied to a powerful man, to bear the next generation. That reason is why I don’t want to be married. But women aren’t the only ones with zero say in their lives.... And my bride? Bratva scum.

Secrets—you know my family is founded on them. Lies—my marriage hinges on one. I kept the past buried like a coward. Now, I feel the constraints of my choices like they’re a chokehold. I know that it’s time to tell my wife the truth. It’s time to deal with the consequences of my actions. Aoife deserves to be my judge, jury, and executioner. If she burns down the house with me in it, well, that’s on me and my filthy secrets….

I'm nothing like my father. My brothers don't realize I'm a thousand times worse. Grief fuels my every action. Vengeance burns through my veins, dictating every decision I make. I'll shatter allegiances to please him. I'm nothing like my father. You don't realize that I'm a thousand times worse. I have Savannah at my side—a ruthless partner capable of raining hellfire upon her enemies—until she realizes I lied to her.... My house of cards is tumbling down, and I've underestimated my queen.

Star's my penguin. She doesn't know it. She took off. Sure. I'm mad at her. Sure. But that's her charm. She's ornery. Difficult. Impossible to love, but I see her BS. And I call her on it. I'll chase her from the North Pole to Antarctica. This Fecker isn't about to lose his soul mate.

When my father tries to force me to marry one of his cronies, I run away to my half-brother's home. He's the black sheep of the family, a biker, not an Irish mobster. At the Satan's Sinners' MC compound, I find more than I bargained for. Not my brother, ironically, but a man who gives a whole other meaning to "white knight." He's dark and mysterious, a seeker of answers and a finder of truths. Even better? He offers me an out, a shotgun wedding in Vegas.

He’s dark. Dirty. Dangerous. A brother in my dad’s MC. Everything Mom told me to avoid. Everything I shouldn’t want. But his dark, his dirty, and his dangerous are like catnip to me. He stirs fear into the hearts of men, but I hear his rage. I feel it like it’s my own. He’s a killer. Shameless. Some might even call him a psycho. I just call him soul mate. We were born to raise hell together.

A chance meeting brings Jen MacNeill into my life - the woman born to reign at my side. A new don reigns over Manhattan. But though I won the war, peace isn’t easily brokered. Over a decade of avenging my father’s death, I made many enemies. To each and every one, Jen’s a target. But I’ll paint New York City red before I let them harm her. I just never imagined I’d be in the line of fire first.

She was an assignment: a selfish brat who'd run away from home and who’d found refuge in an MC, a spoiled pain in my ass that I had to bring back to Daddy. Only—Isabelle is nothing like the picture my initial research painted. Yes, she's a brat. Yes, she's insecure. And yes, she's a Disciple…sort of. But she's so much more than that. So broken, yet so hopeful. So lost, yet so eager to be found.

Like currency, I’ve become part of a transaction. Blade took me to pay off a debt. I try to tell myself, Eve, you should hate him. He’s a bad guy. But then again, I’m not a good girl. Blade’s the president of the Disciples, the notorious motorcycle club. I should be frightened, yet somehow, he doesn’t scare me. If anything, I think I scare him.

Working as Ruslan Oryolov’s personal assistant is the job from hell. After a long day spent tending to the billionaire’s every whim, I need some stress relief. So when I get home that night, that’s exactly what I do. Problem is, my thoughts are still stuck on the bosshole, who’s ruining my life. That’s fine—because of all Ruslan’s many sins, being gorgeous might be the most dangerous.

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.

Phoebe Whitehouse is not just my student—she's my obsession. I eat, sleep, and breathe her. One day, she slips up, and I have my in. At long last, I can own her. She's mine to punish and to pleasure. I don't care if I lose my job as a tenured professor over her. I don't care if I destroy my life or hers. I'm obsessed, and she doesn't know it yet, but I'm never letting her go.

Sometimes you need to crash a funeral to experience happiness. At least Kissimmee Singh, aerial artist for Singh Circus, the most sought-after traveling circus of all time, keeps telling herself that’s why she crashes funerals. In reality, she’s lost and confused. Sometimes it’s nice to experience other people’s grief and be reminded that life isn’t as bad as it could be.

I’ve been raised to be the perfect mafia wife, but when my marriage turns into a horrific nightmare, I have no choice but to leave everything behind and start a new life. I find myself alone in Ibiza—a place that swallows innocent girls like me alive. I’m robbed the day I arrive, left with nothing but a few euros and the clothes on my back.