Macon Davis. My best friend’s brother. My tormentor. My least favorite person. Pothead. Delinquent. A careless, directionless loser. That’s what I used to believe, but I didn’t really know him. And when I finally saw him, it was the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. We burned hot and fast. Passion. Anger. Love. Pain. We were reckless. Naive. We were doomed from the start. When I finally saw Macon Davis for who he was, we both went down in the flames.

I met West Haven when I was eight years old. He taught me to play poker when I was nine, and we made paper airplanes together when I was eleven. He kissed me when I was sixteen. He was the best part about my family’s summer vacations to Montana. He was the boy who stole my heart. I was twenty-three when life ripped us apart. Years later, I’m breaking my vow and returning to the ranch, not as a guest but its new owner. West might want me gone, but even he has to admit the only way to save his family’s legacy is with my help.

I've been faithful long enough. I never claimed to be a good man, but I've always done what was expected of me. Find a nice girl. Get married. Have children. That was my duty as a good Christian man. And everything was going as planned when I met Briar. Beautiful. Charismatic. Sexy. But marriage is hard, and after seven years, I feel like I'm failing. Then, a figure from my past enters the picture.

The scowl should’ve been my first clue to stay far away from Anson Hunt. The sexy smirk and the fact that he’s my brother’s best friend? Reasons two and three. Not to mention, he’s the new contractor working on my house. He’s everything I’m not: grumpy, rude, and more than a little attached to his solitude. It doesn’t matter how many times I try to kill him with kindness; the man simply won’t crack. Until he sees me shatter. Because when my world comes crashing down around me, Anson is the one catching me as I fall.

In the beginning, there was Savannah Shaw. Teasing me with a mischievous, merciless grin by day. Crawling through my window with tear-stained cheeks by night. I was ordered to avoid her. Lectured on her misdeeds. Forbidden from seeing her. But my need to protect her was innate. So natural I never questioned it. So visceral I couldn’t fight it.

In my dreams, I never escaped the Oregon woods. Life after death isn't easy to accept, especially when I still feel like a ghost. Now, I live deep in the mountains of Montana—the paradigm of beauty. But they are also the home of horrors. Horrors that I only unleash at night. When my pigs are allowed to feast.

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.

A stand-alone, MMFM why choose romance from the author of the bestselling New York Ruthless series.

Beckett Langfield is grumpy, rich and hates kids. I’m an overworked, overstressed, and overweight single mom. The only reason we’re getting married is because he needs to fix a PR disaster and I am available. As in sitting next to him, in a bar, when he has this brilliant idea. Considering I just got divorced, I’m not looking to do that again. But Beckett makes me an offer that I literally can’t refuse, so I don’t.

Kyran Harbor is everything I'm not. Rich. Popular. A superstar football player who's awfully broody for someone who has it all. Basically, he's a preppy jock who hates me. Oh, and he's also my stepbrother. That's right. We're stuck together, sharing a school, a house, a bathroom. Honestly I wouldn't care if he wasn't such an uptight control freak who messes with me just because we're different. I had every intention of avoiding him when we got to college. Until abrupt misfortune forces us both into a compromising position.

Triple Falls wasn’t at all what it seemed, nor were the men that swept me under their wing. But in order to keep them, I had to be in on their secrets.⁣ Secrets that cost us everything to keep.⁣ That’s the novelty of fiction versus reality. You can’t re-live your own love story, because by the time you’ve realized you’re living it, it’s over. At least that was the case for me and the men I trusted my foolish heart to.⁣ Looking back, I’m convinced I willed my story into existence, due to my illness, and all were punished.

It was supposed to be a harmless kiss at a lavish debutante ball. A clandestine moment with a handsome stranger. But unlike his namesake, my Romeo isn’t driven by love. He’s fueled by revenge. To him, I’m a chess piece. Leverage. His rival’s betrothed. To me, he is a man deserving of poison. A dark prince I refuse to marry. He thinks I’ll accept my fate. Well, I plan to rewrite it. And in my story, Juliet doesn’t die. But Romeo? He perishes.

Callum Griffin is the heir to the Irish mafia. He’s ruthless, arrogant, and he wants to kill me. We got off on the wrong foot when I set a (very small) fire in his house. Our families believe a marriage pact is the only thing that will prevent all-out warfare. I think I might need to murder him while he sleeps. This would all be a lot easier if Callum wasn’t so damned good-looking.

Beckett: If you’re reading this, well, you know the last-letter drill. You made it. I didn’t. Get off the guilt train, because I know if there was any chance you could have saved me, you would have. I need one thing from you: get out of the army and get to Telluride. My little sister Ella’s raising the twins alone. She’s too independent and won’t accept help easily, but she has lost our grandmother, our parents, and now me. It’s too much for anyone to endure. And here’s the kicker: there’s something else you don’t know that’s tearing her family apart.

Shane Wilder: pro surfer, dream chaser, thief of my heart—and completely off-limits. It was infatuation at first sight. On our first date, he took me to watch the fireworks. It was a magical night of stolen kisses and whispered confessions under the stars. But it all came to a screeching halt when he asked the one question I’d been dreading: "How old are you, Remy?" Right guy, wrong time.