Some marriages last a week, a month, or a year. Others last a lifetime. Mine ends on my wedding night, 10 hours after the exchange of rings. Our marriage vows shatter when Dustin Cardwell, the man I saved myself for, looks me in the eye and tells me I failed between the sheets. Our marriage ends before the ink dries, before the scent of my bouquet fades, before the candles in our honeymoon suite burn out. Three months later, I'm divorced and working as a massage therapist on the LaClaire Cruise Ship, headed for the Caribbean.

She’s the princess of The Whitney, the premier hotel in New York City. Her empire is like a fairy tale. But there is no happily ever after in this story. For there are consequences for breaking a decade-old contract sealed with blood, and now she must pay the price. Because of my power, connections, and our past, the Manhattan royalty has no choice but to turn to me for help. The villain in the story.

Working as Ruslan Oryolov’s personal assistant is the job from hell. After a long day spent tending to the billionaire’s every whim, I need some stress relief. So when I get home that night, that’s exactly what I do. Problem is, my thoughts are still stuck on the bosshole, who’s ruining my life. That’s fine—because of all Ruslan’s many sins, being gorgeous might be the most dangerous.

I'm not interested in starting something deep and meaningful, but what I am interested in is the way your body reacts to mine when we're in the same room. You probably assume the concentration on my face is work-related, when in reality, I'm figuring out which I want more: to nail you against the wall, or to bend you over my desk.

I'm in the business of creating fairy tales. Theme parks. Production companies. Five-star hotels. Everything could be all mine if I renovated Dreamland. My initial idea of hiring Zahra was good in theory, but then I kissed her. Things spiraled out of control once I texted her using an alias. By the time I realized where I went wrong, it was too late. People like me don't get happy endings. Not when we're destined to ruin them.

Holt Sebastian is royalty in our world. As CEO of the Sebastian News Corp, he’s the man with all the power. The man who decides if I’ll always just be a local television anchor or if I’ll be the rising star of my own show.

Sloane: Dominic Alexander is my late husband's best friend and the last man that I should want. For the last ten years, he's taken a sick pleasure in making me feel paper thin, like my existence is of no consequence to him at all. But now, things are different. After a drunken night, and a surprisingly sexy act of heroism, he's started to be . . . nice. Treating me like something other than the embodiment of his annoyance, which would be nice if it didn't make me feel things I swore to never feel for another man after my husband died.

The first time I met Charles Cavendish, I accidentally locked myself in a closet with him. The second time, he became my new boss. My very grumpy new boss. No matter how I much I try, I can’t forget what his lips feel like. The way his arms wrap around me. I need to keep my distance. But when the company lands a new account, I’m forced to work side by side with this man. The handsome devil who makes me forget all rational thought. But the thing about the devil is...he can lure even the greatest of saints.

Evil. That is really the best way to describe Jeremy Stonehart. When he was Stonehart. Is he that anymore? I don't know. As he reveals more and more of himself to me, I start to see a glimmer of the man beneath the surface. I start to understand, in some small way, that even evil comes from a source, from some initial seed that sprouted and took hold of a person's soul.

Flighty. Stupid. That’s what my sisters think of me. I’m tired of being misunderstood. With a suitcase in hand and the ocean as my beacon, I’m charting my own path. Yet, barely a day on the road, I almost crash and burn. Running into Silas Palmer, a sexy-as-sin rock star, changes my life. Silas makes me feel...exceptional. Aimless. He’s always known his course. And even now, when he’s abandoning fame and fortune, he knows what he wants.

Annabelle Taylor has been in her ideal relationship with an adoring partner for 13 years. Davis Chandler is jaded from years of bad luck with women, but she thinks she's finally started dating the girl of her dreams. The only problem is they're both in love with the same woman. Nic McCoy is living a double life that is about to come crashing down on all of them. All three women are left trying to rebuild their lives in the wake of shocking realizations that leave them second-guessing everything.

Holland Alistair is the gorgeous computer prodigy who took the real estate game by storm. Arrogant. Surly. Eyes of steel. He meets me on the worst day of my life and gets his fern kicked. Literally.

He’s a ruthless stranger. One I can’t see, only feel, thanks to my friends who make a deal with him on my behalf. No names. No personal details. No face to etch into my mind. Just him, me, and an expensive silk tie. What happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas. He warns me he’s full of danger. I never see that side of him. All I experience is his Russian accent, delicious scent, and touch that lights me on fire. One incredible night turns into two. Then we go our separate ways. But fate doesn't keep us apart.

A beautiful, young American girl wound up stranded far from home on my doorstep. When she begged me to stay, I did what a good priest would do, and I said yes. But a good priest wouldn’t spend his days thinking about the fullness of her ruby red lips or feel the sting of envy with the way she draws men to her like flies to honey. A good priest would have stopped things before that first touch. And he certainly wouldn’t have given into temptation so easily, but when Cadence Thorn walked in, she brought me to my knees.

My rules for being a Manhattan billionaire's fake girlfriend...No kissing. No fooling around. No falling in love. What can possibly go wrong? Note to self: When your boyfriend dumps you on your 30th birthday, it's probably not the smartest idea to drink so much that you wake up in the same bed as the mysterious hottie wearing the gorgeous suit who you noticed sitting across the bar.