I do what I want and who I want. I don't follow anyone's rules-even my own. I knew I shouldn't touch her, but it didn't stop me. Didn't stop me the second time either. Only made me want a third. My lifestyle suits the savage I am, and she doesn't. But Temperance Ransom is my newest addiction, and I'm nowhere near ready to quit her yet. I'll have her my way, even if it means dragging her into the darkness. Hopefully it doesn't kill us both.

New Orleans belongs to me. You don't know my name, but I control everything you see - and all the things you don't. My reach knows no bounds, and my demands are always met. I didn't need to loan money to a failing family distillery, but it amuses me to have them in my debt. To have her in my debt. She doesn't know she caught my attention. She should've been more careful. I'm going to own her. Consume her. Maybe even keep her. It's time to collect what I'm owed.

He loves me, and he doesn't even know my real name. The limelight that follows him could expose everything I'm hiding. But even knowing the risks, I can't force myself to stay away. I'm going to break his heart, but mine will shatter right along with it. Will we lose it all when I reveal what's beneath this mask?

The thing about ghosts is they’re supposed to stay dead. That’s exactly what I am, but I can’t stay away from Magnolia Marie Maison for one more day, let alone another year. We’ve already got 15 of those between us. As it stands, she’ll want to kill me as soon as she lays eyes on me. And knowing her, she’s completely up to the task. But I’m a man on a mission, and I’ve got everything riding on this. So, here I come, Magnolia. This ghost is ready for whatever you got. After all, there’s only one way I want this to end - ’til death do us part.

Ten years ago, Whitney Gable caught me off guard with her long legs and grab-you-by-the-balls blue eyes. I didn't know or care what her name was. Like any Riscoff worth the family name, I went after what I wanted. We burned like a flash fire until she married another man. She hates me, and she should. I objected on her wedding day. Now she's home, with those same long legs and man-eater stare, but there's no ring on her finger. They say a Riscoff and a Gable can never live happily ever after, but I'm not done with Whitney Gable.