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.

Aurelia Whitlock is an ex-stepsister I forgot long ago. Until she shows up as a design intern at my fashion company. And that's the easy part. The part where she heats my blood, drawing me away from my grumpy, miserable side is another. She has no business being here. The more I learn about how she got this job, the more perilous things become for me and my company. I can't trust her. I can't fire her. And I can't claim her full lips with mine.

Harlow is smart and fierce, and I should have known that she would cross me. Now I'm a prisoner under the castle—and once her father returns I'm as good as dead. I've heard tales of the king's ferocity, and I know he'll burn me alive with just his stare. But before he can kill me, I make a proposal. If he lets me live, I'll pledge the vampires to fight in this war. The Teeth are dangerous, whatever plans they have are even more dangerous. King Rolfe needs me alive—whether he likes it or not. He spares my life—but I'm still a prisoner.

When she was young, Arya Roth became best friends with her housekeeper’s son. Soon, friendship turned to young love, and when Arya dared him to kiss her, a chain reaction of disastrous events led to the boy being sent away and out of Arya’s life. Now, two decades later, Arya is an on-the-rise publicist with her beloved father as one of her biggest clients. So when her father is sued by a former employee, Arya sets out to prove that her father is not the monster he is accused of being. The only problem is the attorney who is determined to destroy her father’s good name. 

Our first meeting was at a nightclub, and it was something straight out of my most romantic fantasies. My ovaries exploded at the sight of the Russian God. And by God, I mean he was ripped, tall, dark, and deadly attractive. There were enough sparks between us to light up a city. Then an explosion blasted through the nightclub, and we got trapped together for three hours, sharing our most personal details...everything but our names. Two years later, our second meeting is the complete opposite of the first. It's clear Misha Petrov, a Russian enforcer for the bratva, despises me.