Tracy G.

Victor "Skeet" Thompson lived his life according to the codes he bound himself to. As a navy SEAL, the vow to humbly serve as a guardian was embedded in his DNA. When he joined the FBI, he dedicated himself to fidelity, bravery, and integrity. He was a man in service; to the team, to the job, and to those who needed his help. But he mostly believed he was a man serving his family in the best way he knew how. But what happens to his code when the illusion of that idealistic dream crumbles around him?

Protecting him is my duty, but falling for him could be my undoing. I’ve spent five years burying my past, leaving behind the violence and bloodshed of my former life as a Bratva enforcer. Now, I’m just Luca—the quiet guy who keeps his head down, working security for a professional hockey team. I don’t get close to anyone, and I definitely don’t let anyone get close to me. But then I’m assigned to protect Max Ryan, the team’s star defenseman, and everything changes. He's my obsession. My crush.

She’s my never. My fortress. My moon. Rena Noire—the one I’m not allowed to touch. As a Cabal leader with a sordid past, hell is all I’ve ever had to offer. So, I’ve kept my distance from the menacing angel. But the sand is blowing everywhere, the line growing fainter. And as danger closes in, all I see is her. My forbidden. My compass. The forever I’ll burn for. But it all comes back to one wrong choice

Harper Davidson has been ingrained on my heart since we were kids, and now she’s tattooed on my skin. But she’ll never know about either. Not when she’s better off thinking we’re enemies. Having her in my space every day and sharing a wall with her every night is a challenge I never saw coming. A challenge I’m not sure I’m up to. Especially when our daytime games turn into nighttime dares, pushing each other to the breaking point until our neighbors know exactly who’s making her scream.

She’s my mission. My prize. My obsession. Ivy Kingston is the most wanted woman in the world for reasons she is completely oblivious to, reasons I intend to capitalize on. She needs a husband to receive her inheritance, so I’m on the hunt for a wife. As long as it’s her. I’m not who she thinks I am. But she has no idea who she really is either. I’ll be her groom. Her keeper. Her lover. And quite possibly her demise.

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.

One typo, and a boy and girl connect by chance. Wishing each other a happy Valentine’s Day isn’t the end. In fact, it becomes a friendly annual tradition—with rules: no pics, no real names, nothing too personal. As years pass, the rules for their email “dates” are breaking, and they’re sharing more than they imagined—including the urge to ask…what if we actually met?

Holly is dealing with the impending death of her grandmother and still reeling from a bad breakup. One bright spot: a Valentine’s Day card on Holly’s windshield—even if it wasn’t meant for her. An amusing mistake soon turns into a lovely exchange of anonymous notes, little acts of kindness, and a growing affection between two strangers. What happens when one of them has to say goodbye?

As the only Beckett cousin who is still unattached, I’m a shoo-in to win the bet with my cousins to be the last man blissfully not in love by Christmas. Of course, I know they’re still going to make me follow the rules of our bet and go on six dates with the same woman - but I’ve figured out a way out of that too. I’m getting married. Is it love? Not even close. Chelle Finch needs a temporary husband, and I need to win this bet.

In the beginning, there was Savannah Shaw. Teasing me with a mischievous, merciless grin by day. Crawling through my window with tear-stained cheeks by night. I was ordered to avoid her. Lectured on her misdeeds. Forbidden from seeing her. But my need to protect her was innate. So natural I never questioned it. So visceral I couldn’t fight it.