I should have run the other way. Paid my tab and gone back to my room. But he was there. And he was…everything. I figured, what’s the harm in letting passion rule my decisions for one night? So what if he looks like the Devil in a suit? I’d be leaving in the morning, flying home to my pleasant but predictable life. I’d never see him again. Except I do. In the last place I expected. And now everything I’ve worked so hard for is in jeopardy.

We were 16 the night she was violently assaulted while I helplessly watched. I’ll never forget the sounds of her suffering. Or my inconsolable agony when she left Oklahoma. Years later, she returns to honor our teenage pact. Except the boy she loved is gone, replaced by a ruthless cattle rancher knotted with secrets. She doesn’t know my dark cravings or the trails of sin that lead to her. I don’t deserve her, but one truth remains: She’s mine.

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.

“Give me a second chance, babe . . . and I’ll blow your mind.” Monroe doesn’t know why she answers the text that’s obviously meant for someone else. Or why she keeps answering. Maybe it’s because she’s all alone in a big city and in desperate need of a lifeline. Or maybe it’s because each exchange leaves her intrigued and more than a little turned on. Still, Monroe never would’ve snarked back if she’d known she was talking to the “Golden Boy” of the Dallas Knights.

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.

Bennett Sharp is on the run. Wanted for piracy, she fears neither God nor death nor man. Except Priest Farrell.

My father called them messengers. He once told me they walked among us and that somewhere in this dark and godless city, there shined a faint sliver of hope. I had only to look for the signs. Well, I’ve spent my whole life investigating the inexplicable and all I've found are the unsettling vestiges of iniquity—the evidence of another world shrouded by the obscure. Purgatory to some, where depravity hides in shadows, and girls like me are little more than delicious bites of temptation. Others call it Nightshade.

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.

After being a soldier, working as a bodyguard should have been simple: Keep the owner of DC’s ultra-secret club safe, don’t think about his midnight eyes or his devil’s smile, don’t surrender my body to his wicked desires. But I underestimated Mark Trevena and the power of his dark, seductive world. I underestimated the hold he’d have on me, the way I would do anything for him at all. And so when he asks me to escort his soon-to-be bride home, I can only—miserably, broken-heartedly–say yes.

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.

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.

When Pestilence comes for Sara Burn’s town, one thing is certain: everyone she knows and loves is marked for death. Unless, of course, the angelic-looking horseman is stopped, which is exactly what Sara has in mind when she shoots the unholy beast off his steed. Too bad no one told her Pestilence can’t be killed. Now the horseman, very much alive and very pissed off, has taken her prisoner, and he’s eager to make her suffer. Only, the longer she’s with him, the more uncertain she is about his true feelings towards her, and hers towards him. And now, well, Sara might still be able to save the world, but in order to do so, she'll have to sacrifice her heart in the process.

Drowning in the murky waters of the mafia, I’m determined to find a way out. I have my sights set on becoming a film producer and won’t let anything or anyone stand in my way. Then my mother marries a retired Godfather, and I get the head of the Greek mafia as a stepbrother. Nikolas Stathoulis is set on ruining my well-laid plans. His ruthless reputation has me running for the safety of my apartment. But he’s always there. On campus. In my apartment. Expecting me to play by his rules.

Known as a harbinger of bad omens and blamed for Demons eating her family, Reia is shunned by her entire village. When the next offering is due and the monstrous Duskwalker is seen heading their way, her village offers her an impossible choice—be thrown into the prison cells or allow herself to be sacrificed to a faceless monster.

My name is Rachel Price, and two months ago, I walked away from the perfect man. Sweet and funny, and so hot it should be illegal—we shared one magical night. No names. No strings. I never thought I'd see him again. I was wrong. It turns out Mr. Perfect is the playboy grinder for the Jacksonville Rays, the NHL's hottest new hockey team . . . and I'm his new physical therapist. Oh, and the jerk doesn't even recognize me!