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.

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.

Fifteen years ago, she fell into my world. Fifteen years ago, I fell for her. She’s the love of my life. No going back. Loving someone means sacrificing your own happiness to protect them. Loving someone means making them hate you to keep them safe, to get them away from the toxicity that is your world. I destroyed us before we even had a chance to begin…. Can a near death experience bring both my kid and the woman who owns my heart back to me? This is Declan O'Donnelly's story.

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.

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.

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….

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.

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.

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.

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'm locked in a cage in my wedding dress. How did I end up here? Three days ago, I was a normal girl living a normal life. My adoptive parents came over to my apartment for dinner, just like they do every week. But this time, they brought bombshells. They tell me I'm not who they said I was. And all those dance lessons, those etiquette classes? They weren't just for show. They were to groom me. To mold me into what I'm about to become—the forced wife of a don. Then, with my jaw on the floor, they opened the door and let the nightmares in.

With green eyes and an easy smile, Frank McCabe stole me away from the nightmares that awaited me at home. But the son of the Irish Mob would never be mine. I belonged to the Italians. And the moment my mother sold me to the head of the Italian Mafia, I became the one the people of Boston were warned about. The only person more feared than me in our city is the Irish Ghost. When I finally flee my marital prison with my sons and my sister in tow, I unwittingly run straight into the ghost of the Irishman who died in a fiery explosion years ago.

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.

I’m falling for the father of the baby I’m carrying. The problem is: it’s not my baby. And the broody widower is not looking for a long-term partner. As a surrogate, the deal was that I’d only be in England long enough to give birth. At first, the man seemed as pretentious as his name: Sigmund Benedictus. He and I butted heads. Sig challenged my intentions, accused me of just wanting to do this for the money. Gradually, he learned to trust me.