Cyn

Monsters don't often look like monsters on the outside. Forced to marry a man I should hate, I'm now bound to Damian. I sometimes wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Deer in headlights, I guess. What I see is clear. Darkness. Desire. Carnal want. A man with too much experience. The day he took me he told me I belong to him. On our wedding night he proved I did. And I believe him when he says he'll keep me safe because he won't let anyone touch what's his. But I can't forget what he is. Can't forget the things he's done. And no matter what, I can't let myself fall in love with him.

She calls it a devil’s bargain. I call it a deal she can’t refuse. I was owed a debt and I expected payment. That payment? One night in my bed. My rules. The debt cleared, and she could walk away. There are worse things. And besides, debtors can’t be choosers. The night started as it should. She obeyed as she should. But then something happened. Something I was unprepared for. And what I saw changed everything. I broke my own rules after that.

A timeless love story with bite. It was a night like any other for funeral home director Ginny Lynn, until the exceptionally handsome - and unfortunately deceased - young man on her embalming table sat up, opened his emerald eyes and changed the course of her life forever, making her feel quite fluttery while he was at it. Humans aren't supposed to know Jonas Cantrell, or any vampire, exists. It's kind of a major rule. Despite his instantaneous bond with perfectly peculiar Ginny, he has no choice but to erase her memories of their one and only meeting.

On the day my husband and I committed to each other, I didn't wear a white dress. We didn't exchange rings. There was no audience or minister to witness our union. Only the two of us. We swore to put each other first, to take on the evils our families had perpetuated together. Side by side. But that was before the past returned to haunt us. Now, everything has changed.

I was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own.

I knew something was wrong the second she walked in the door tonight; I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. Same hair color. Same legs. Same face. Except...I look harder. At the small dimple beneath her lip that wasn't there the last time we went out. And her laugh - that laugh isn't as loud. This isn't the girl I've gone out with the past few weeks. It's her twin sister, and they've switched places on me.

I am the world's biggest dating failure. We're talking my last date went home with our waitress kind of failure. But I have an ace in the back pocket of my mom jeans - my sexy-as-sin best friend, NHL superstar forward, Justin Cruise. Justin owes me favors dating back to seventh grade, long before he became a hotshot with a world famous...stick. So in return for my undying platonic loyalty, all I want is an easy-peasy crash course on how to be a sex goddess.

My cock has an appetite. A huge and very particular appetite: blond, curvy, and preferably not a f--king liar... (Although that's a story for another day.) As a high-profile lawyer, I don't have time to waste on relationships, so I fulfill my needs by anonymously chatting and sleeping with women I meet online. My rules are simple: one dinner. One night. No repeats. This is only casual sex. Nothing more. Nothing less. At least it was until Alyssa...

Charlotte Taylor has three automatic strikes in my book: 1) She hates me. She also claims that I'm a "domineering jerk with a huge, overbearing ego". (I do have something huge. It's not my ego, though.) 2) She takes our mandatory tutoring sessions way too seriously. 3) She's sexy as hell...and a virgin. At least those were her strikes before our study sessions started lasting longer than they were supposed to. Until one innocent kiss became a hundred dirty ones, and until she became the first woman I ever fell hard for.

Thirty days ago, my boss, Mr. Wolf of Wall Street, came to me with an offer I couldn't refuse: Sign my name on the dotted line and pretend to be his fiancée for one month. If I agreed, he would let me out of my employment contract with a "very generous" severance package. The rules were pretty simple: No intimate kissing, no actual sex. Just pretend to love each other for the press, even though I've secretly wanted to knock that sexy smirk off his face since the first day we met.