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.

I hated the gangs that ruled my city. After my friend was killed and my father vanished, I had no choice but to infiltrate one to figure out why. Entering their infamous club quickly showed me I was in over my head. Then the most feared gang leader took an interest in me. Arran was corrupt, deadly, and his searing gaze both terrified and tempted me. In my search for answers, I stumbled into his dark and dangerous game. The result? I belonged to him, with no chance of escape. In a heartbeat, I became Arran’s obsession. And in a terrible twist, I think he’s becoming mine.

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.

Savy St. James is a sad lonely girl with too many secrets to count. She hides away in her oversized frumpy clothes and thick glasses wishing she was brave enough to be seen without her mask. One small favor backfires and forces her into a fake date deal by the school’s hot shot quarterback. Him and his three best friends treat her like a pet to play with and are careless with her until she’s had enough and breaks the deal.

Life coach and best-selling author Victoria Price has it all: a successful career, fabulous friends, a fantastic penthouse in Manhattan. What she doesn’t have—and doesn’t want—is a husband. Fifteen years ago her high school flame broke her heart so badly she swore she’d never love again.

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.

Ryot Bisley is my husband. Yes, the former third baseman for the Chicago Rebels and absolute heartthrob of the Windy City. That Ryot Bisley. The first time I ran into him, he was grumpy, a horrific host, and left me on his sofa with nothing but a nylon baseball flag to use as a blanket.

I had a foolproof plan. Finish college playing the best sport on earth. Hockey. Get drafted by an NHL team. Make my senator father at least a little proud of me. I was on track to do just that…until Violet Reece and I collided. Literally.

I caught the attention of a monster. I didn’t ask for it. Didn’t even see it coming. But the moment I do, it’s too late. Killian Carson is a predator wrapped in sophisticated charm. He’s cold-blooded, manipulative, and savage. The worst part is that no one sees his devil side. I do. And that will cost me everything. I run, but the thing about monsters? They always chase.

I never planned to give my V-card to a gorgeous stranger I met at a bar. But for once I didn't let myself overthink things. In the few hours we spent together, he managed to push me outside my comfort zone. And I loved every second. I never expected to see him again. Let alone sitting at the head of the boardroom table during my architectural firm's pitch to design his new hotel chain.

I'm addicted to my stalker. He watches me at night, sneaking in through my living room window and making my blood turn to ice. I feel him all around me as chills snake down my spine. Each night he becomes bolder, getting closer and welcoming himself into my bedroom, feeding his addiction.

Five years ago, my fiancé disappeared. He left me with a wedding dress I’d never wear. Left me with the kind of scars that can’t be healed. The man I built my future on vanished like a ghost. All that remained were my broken heart and a million unanswered questions. Until a mysterious stranger arrives in town.

Running away from home at 17 wasn't easy. Let's face it, though, nothing before or in the ten years since has ever been easy for me. And I'm doing okay—sorta. I just need to keep scraping by, living under the radar. Staying out of people's way, off people's minds. When a man walks through my open patio door, stepping boldly into my home and my life, I should be scared, frightened, terrified. I must be more broken than I realized because I'm none of those things. I'm intrigued—and I'm wondering if the way to take control of my life is by giving in to him.

Duty, honor, and sacrifice. Dedicating my life to these elements, for family and country, leaves little for myself in return. It's why I indulge in a no-strings hookup with a handsome stranger mere days before heading half-a-world away. Except one night turns into a week-long fling, creating a connection at the most inopportune time. And neither of us want it to end. Staying in touch is easy at first, but dwindles to radio silence and distant memories as time passes.

Clark Griswold was onto something...at least with his annual holiday meltdown. And since the last three weeks of my life have been riddled with humbug—another breakup, a broken toe, an office promotion I deserved and didn’t get—I’m not at all in the mood to celebrate nor have the happ, happ, happiest Christmas EVER.