It was supposed to be a simple weekend away to forget the heartache caused by my cheating husband. But the man sitting next to me in 1B has different plans. Cash’s whiskey-colored eyes and easy smile beg me to dance beneath the stars, kiss in the moonlight, and walk hand in hand down the streets of Boston. Unfortunately, life has other plans because I’m still married, and Cash James is the billionaire playboy standing between me and my dream promotion.

When my father passed away, I assumed my grieving would be as simple as closing a book and starting another. Only he had other plans. Leaving me his beloved tattoo shop, I’m stuck to figure out what exactly to do with it, all while being constantly reminded of him.

According to the FBI, I was considered a serial murderer after three kills. What do they call me after fifty-two? They call me the Silencer. One final bullet would have been all it took to stop me from taking another soul, and I would have been doing Meridian City a service by pulling that trigger. An angel crying for help stopped me, and that night, I took three lives for her. Then three turned into eight. Then eight turned into twenty. Twenty turned into twenty-one. Twenty-one turned into twenty-three.

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.

Ford Hall is gorgeous so you can’t blame me when I do something bad and convince him to kiss me on New Year's Eve. Or when I do it again in the daylight. He may be completely off limits but I’m going to make him my lover.

Nico De Kysa. Cold. Detached. Ruthless. And my new husband. I didn't want to marry the despicable mafia don. But my father made a deal with the devil, and lucky me, I'm the currency. If I leave… He'll destroy my father's fortune. But if I stay… He'll obliterate my heart. In this union, the lines between love and hate are blurred. So blurred. He's a cold-blooded monster with ice in his veins and frost in his heart. But in bed, Nico De Kysa burns like wildfire. And in the heat of the night, I begin to forget why I hate the mobster.

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.

I always knew darkness crept through this city; like a shadow, it never really goes away, always watching, always waiting. People sin and people kill; it's a way of life. I just never expected to be thrown into the middle of a war I had no hope of surviving. Alexander Silver is as brutal as he is beautiful. A devil in disguise. The man destined to end me. I didn't go looking for trouble, and yet it found me, nonetheless. I could either join it or let it crush me.

Herein lies a raw exploration of duality, darkness, and desire. A collection of sonnets, haikus, and free verse that brings to the surface our fractured pieces and celebrates how the light and the dark blend to make us whole. An invitation to embrace the shadow and give it its rightful place as a part of the self.

To me, that's all Lucian Aston is—a highly sophisticated, posh Englishman who stars in my daydreams. Mostly because of the way he views me as a loud, boisterous, no-nonsense surgical nurse he's stuck touring London and Paris with up to the day of his groundbreaking surgery. Until then, we've got a lot of downtime to kill. So, it's only natural that I put my best foot forward to get to know him a little better. Problem is Lucian has no intention of taking a single step in his fancy wingtips to meet me halfway. That is until we strike our deal.

When Natalie Tyler arrives in Chicago to attend her cousin's wedding, she is just hoping to survive the week with her estranged family...and her ex-fiancé. One week. One uneventful week at the beautiful Hotel Jefferson is all she has to endure before she can return to her quiet life in Miami. However, fate has other plans.

Agent Bradly "Wolfe" Tucker has one case he cannot solve: six murdered women and a cold trail leading nowhere. When bodies with an eerily similar MO show up in Philadelphia, he volunteers to assist with the case. He figures he will spend a few days in Philly, hand the case off, and head back to his life in Seattle. But everything changes when he stops at a local bar, looks across the room, and sees her. Agent Leda Bailey has had a bad week. She has three dead women and no trail to follow. The clues don't add up, and nothing makes sense.

I hate Dante Moretti. He is cold, calculating, and vicious. It’s no secret that he wiped out his former fiancée and her entire family on the eve of their wedding. He’s the kind of evil that makes even devils cry. But that’s not why I hate him.

Dante Marino’s the definition of beautiful destruction. Everything he touched, he destroyed...including me. We were friends. Then we weren't. He used me. Played me. Took every ounce of my affection and threw it away. He became my enemy, then risked everything to save me. Now, he wants me back, claiming he's changed - determined to make me his. Each vow, every possessive kiss, feels like he’s mine. But I can't forget that underneath his rock-hard body, seductive grin, and wicked promises, one thing will always remain true - he's my undoing.

I'm not interested in starting something deep and meaningful, but what I am interested in is the way your body reacts to mine when we're in the same room. You probably assume the concentration on my face is work-related, when in reality, I'm figuring out which I want more: to nail you against the wall, or to bend you over my desk.