Meet Ophelia Hart. Lover of classic literature and unicorns. An orphan with nobody in her corner—no family, no friends. But it’s her loneliness that fuels her life’s ambition to become a social worker and help the forgotten children just like her. For a foster kid with only slightly above-average grades, it feels like a pipe dream. Except it seems that someone is looking out for Ophelia after all. When an unexpected opportunity to attend Montridge University arises, she thinks her life is finally taking a turn for the better.

Hockey is my life. It's my only goal, my only escape. Everything was going according to plan. All I had to do was focus on the game, keep my head down, then get drafted into the NHL. Starting the year as the captain of FU should have made that easy, but now my attention is torn between the ice and taunting my rival's little sister, Madeline Peters. My only real solace is the mystery girl inside my phone who refuses to tell me her name. Then, one drunken knock on the wrong door brings Madeline into my bedroom.

The man upstairs in apartment six doesn't belong here, in our rundown block on the slum side of the city. High-class and educated, suited and booted, and at least thirty years my senior. Yes. Thirty whole years. But that doesn't matter. He's absolutely gorgeous. What does matter is they say he's a disgraced teacher who preys on his college students. A filthy, sick man who deserves prison.

Nathan Davenport, CEO of the Davenport empire, is my complete opposite. He hates chocolate. I'm a size sixteen dessert chef. He only wears black. I love glitter and pink. He's grumpy, while I look on the brighter side of life. Too bad his piercing eyes, and high cheekbones, haunt my dreams. When he offers to loan me the money to save my bakery, I have no choice but to agree.

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’m nothing but a payment, bartered to the most powerful cartel in the northern hemisphere and forced to marry a man I do not know. My father sold me to save his own skin. He might as well have ushered me to the gates of hell. The Marino family is sadistic. If rumors are true, they’ll own me, use me, control me, and strip me of every freedom I’ve taken for granted. I’ll be a shiny new toy in a dark and deadly underworld.

The night my sister died, a piece of me died with her. So I made a vow to enroll at Spine Ridge University just like her, find the person responsible… and make them pay. Until I meet three sick boys of the Skull & Serpent Society: Felix, Dylan, Alistair. Rude, heartless, vicious guys who are obsessed with making me regret I ever stepped foot on campus. They make me a deal: My body in exchange for a glimpse at their violence.

It's not a regular party, but instead, my wedding. To Angelo Rizzo. A coldhearted man who's feared by all. Including me. Turns out my stepbrother owes the Cosa Nostra money, and I'm being used to repay his debt to Angelo Rizzo. Do I have a choice? No. Not when it comes to matters concerning the Cosa Nostra. Three hours later, I have a new shiny wedding ring on my finger and a husband I'm terrified of standing by my side. Yep, my life just took a turn for the worse.

Don't get me wrong, waking up to discover my ex-husband finally killed me wasn't fun. Finding out I had to get a job and pay Afterlife taxes about 10 minutes later? Let's just say, this wasn't exactly the eternal reward I was hoping for. But beggars can't be choosers, and being a demon sure as hell beats my last occupation. I’m well on my way to retirement behind the pearly gates when the impossible happens. The Risk Witches have a vision.

I never wanted a wife. No one is safe with me. No one is good enough for my daughter. But if I want to rule over the wealthiest crime family in New York City, I only have two weeks to find one. When Elsie broke into my home, I saw an opportunity, so I forced her into a marriage she didn't want. No one crosses me, not even someone as beautiful as Elsie. She may fight me with that smart mouth, but she will obey me–or return to the hell she came from. I told her she was mine for a year. Then she'd be free.

Belles and Mobsters were never meant to be together. And I still fell in love with him, only to be torn apart. Lesson learned.

Whip King cannot be the man for me. Cocky, pierced firefighters are perfect for late-night rom-coms, but in real life they’re nothing but trouble. Especially when you find out they work for your dad—after you’ve already slept with them. Moving to my parents’ small town was supposed to be the fresh start I was looking for. When a disastrous Valentine’s Day leads to an unexpected encounter with a sexy stranger, and ends with the hottest night of my life, I didn’t think I would ever see Whip again.

Cruelty is his middle name, and I'm at his mercy. My father has kept me locked away in an ivory tower. I thought he wanted to protect me, but he only wanted to protect his asset. An untouched, sheltered mob princess is worth a lot of money to the right buyer. My father's greed means Sicily is no longer big enough for him. I'm shipped across the Atlantic to Boston to marry a man I've never met, whose reputation for cruelty reaches as far as the shores of Sicily.

Gather round close, for I have a secret to tell. Late at night, while everyone is sleeping, dreaming of white knights and fairytales. I'm making friends with the monsters. They call to me, like finds like, right? My biggest secret, I'm the scariest monster I know. I think I'm the bad guy.

I can’t remember anymore if my grandfather’s eyes were blue or green, but I’ll never forget the way they wrinkled at the corners when he laughed at one of his own jokes. Or the way they sparkled with mischief when he told me tales about the magical creatures that dwelled in the forest behind his humble Irish sheep farm. As a child, I believed every fantastical word. But when he warned me about the mute boy who also lurked in those woods, the one the priest had declared to be the spawn of Satan himself, I refused to listen.