As the VP of Kings of Retribution MC, I live and breathe club life. After suffering the loss of two women in my life, I grew cold and indifferent to the idea of love. I don't need to let anyone in. I've seen the aftermath it can leave in its quake. The last thing I'm looking for is someone to fill the void, until Bella Jameson.

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.

They call me Ghost for a reason. Silent and in the shadows, I don't make my move until I am absolutely sure of everything. Four years ago I was sure about Jenna. My best friend's kid sister had grown up into a spitfire I couldn't resist. One night we stopped resisting. We promised we'd keep it a secret. It was a one-time mistake, but we'd put it behind us. Jenna tried to get out of our corrupt town, but it pulled her back in again. Now she needs help. I'll do all of that for her, if she'll just shut the hell up and let me. She can even keep all of her secrets, except for one.

You know the story where the hero comes in and saves the day, rescuing the heroine right in the nick of time? This isn't that story. Instead of a knight in shining armor, he's a sexy, tatted-up Bratva boss with a reputation for being brutal and fierce. Vasily finds me after I've already been brought to my lowest—broken by cruel men until I barely recognize myself. He doesn't offer me salvation. He offers me protection and revenge. And I gladly take it. Because I don't need a knight in shining armor. I need a villain who doesn't mind getting his hands dirty.

I couldn't walk away. It's not who I am. The moment I saw Rayne broken and bloodied, I knew I wasn't leaving without her. As the president of the Houston Defiance MC, my job is to protect. And there's no taming the rage building inside my body, screaming at me to shield her from the husband who's beating her day in and day out.

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.

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.

Morris has always dedicated himself to his brothers in the MC, choosing the freedom of the open road over the monotony of family life. But a chance encounter with a single mother on the run causes his protective alpha instincts to kick into overdrive.

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.

The problem with Wake was that he was understandable. He was the type of villain who literally scared the absolute shit out of you because you knew that under the right circumstances, you could end up exactly like him.

Kincaid: Hero complex? Possessive? Not afraid to speak my mind? Check, check, and check. I'm also president of the Cerberus MC, a former Marine, and Emmalyn Mikaelson doesn't have a clue what she's gotten herself into by jumping on the back of my bike. Shadow: I'm no stranger to a woman warming my bed. What's new for me is being the one ghosted. So imagine my surprise when the girl who decided I wasn't enough shows up on my doorstep burdened with the consequences of her own lies and deceit.

When I was ten, I was a naïve, shy girl. A girl who dreamed of sunsets and roller skates. Until my grandparents died. Then I found myself alone in the world. One bad thing after another seemed to find me but I dealt. I dealt because a man with a black leather jacket and ink from head to toe, told me how to survive this world. He told me that, sometimes, you have to get mean. And so, I embraced my mean. I hated it at first but as time went on, being mean became second nature.

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.

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.

I know what I want. So when opportunity knocked, I took it. I grabbed my shot, willing to do anything to make it happen. From the beginning, I knew I was destined to be with the six-foot-four, bourbon-eyed Rock God. Only back in the early days, he wasn’t a god. Rhys Granger was my brother’s friend, the boy next door who wrote verses and played his guitar in our garage. He was talented. Exciting. Damaged. The kind of guy who made all the girls cry…. Except for me. I thought I was special. Turns out I’m not. And now…I despise him.