Mari Marcosa may be head of her family’s mafia empire, but the new enemy hiding in the shadows is determined to destroy her—piece by piece. She has no idea who she can trust. Until three men become the very foundation of her survival. Greyson: Her best friend, her second-in-command, her savior. The one she always needed but couldn’t have. Dominic: Her new underboss with molten eyes and a smile made for war. He brings out a gentle side in Mari she doesn’t know if she can afford.

When my father passed away, I assumed my grieving would be as simple as closing a book and starting another. Only he had other plans. Leaving me his beloved tattoo shop, I’m stuck to figure out what exactly to do with it, all while being constantly reminded of him.

My new boss—Alexander Bane. Aptly named since he’s the bane of my existence. Please isn’t in his vocabulary. He grunts, growls, and demands. If only he didn’t look so sexy when doing so. If only his mouth weren’t so addictive when kissing mine. He’s quickly becoming my favorite boss. Which is wrong. My new assistant is an unwelcomed distraction. Snarky, witty, always smiling. Constantly putting me in my place. Making me second-guess my decisions.

Agent Bradly "Wolfe" Tucker has one case he cannot solve: six murdered women and a cold trail leading nowhere. When bodies with an eerily similar MO show up in Philadelphia, he volunteers to assist with the case. He figures he will spend a few days in Philly, hand the case off, and head back to his life in Seattle. But everything changes when he stops at a local bar, looks across the room, and sees her. Agent Leda Bailey has had a bad week. She has three dead women and no trail to follow. The clues don't add up, and nothing makes sense.

Five years ago, I masterminded the infamous massacre of the Tri-state Timberwolves. The streets outside the Wolves HQ ran red with the blood of the old guard, and not one of those members loyal to my father were spared mercy. Not a single one. I let the media twist and distort the story. My new recruits eagerly proved themselves in spreading false news, in covering our tracks. To the general public, the Tri-State Timberwolves were extinct. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

I met West Haven when I was eight years old. He taught me to play poker when I was nine, and we made paper airplanes together when I was eleven. He kissed me when I was sixteen. He was the best part about my family’s summer vacations to Montana. He was the boy who stole my heart. I was twenty-three when life ripped us apart. Years later, I’m breaking my vow and returning to the ranch, not as a guest but its new owner. West might want me gone, but even he has to admit the only way to save his family’s legacy is with my help.

The Daymakers were the hottest alt-rock band since the nineties, the masked members making fans swoon at the very thought of who might be hiding under the skull masks. Known only by their stage names—Royal, Hero, Poet and Knight—their real identities were a carefully held secret.

Moving to a new town to start college, where I can try to be normal. Or at least pretend I am. I’m willing to fake it, because I’m tired of trying to get better. Tired of spilling my guts to doctors and therapists to understand why I’ve heard voices since I was a child.

All my life I’ve been a prisoner. Locked away by men who think they hold all the power. First my father. And now him. The devil himself. Reid Harris. Even my husband can’t save me from the most infamous man in Harrow Creek and his loyal best friend. I’m tangled up in their twisted games. One woman. Three dangerous men. They expect me to cower. To beg and plead for mercy. But Reid’s about to discover that not everyone bends to his will.

You think you know me. That's the way I want it. Making you feel like we know each other - like we could go grab a beer sometime - is part of my job. Maybe the most vital part. It doesn't hurt that I'm easy on the eyes, single at 35, and born richer than sin. My aesthetic matters much more than it should, but all the better for my worthy cause. And it's a worthy cause. I've made an art out of making you feel good, and my influence makes you want to be good. Good like me. You think you know me, but you don't. Everyone has secrets. Mine could cost me everything.

Meet Randi Burnett—she’s brilliant, she’s beautiful, and she works for the bride. Missing groom? Intoxicated in-laws? Crying ring-bearer? You name it, she wrangles it. Too bad her personal life isn’t thriving like her side gig as a bridesmaid for hire. Recently dumped, Randi throws herself into her biggest challenge yet when she’s hired as a maid of honor and pretend best friend for an ice queen bride. There’s just one problem—the best man is infuriating, overprotective, and anti-marriage.

Lowen Ashleigh is a struggling writer on the brink of financial ruin when she accepts the job offer of a lifetime. Jeremy Crawford, husband of best-selling author Verity Crawford, has hired Lowen to complete the remaining books in a successful series his injured wife is unable to finish. Lowen arrives at the Crawford home, ready to sort through years of Verity's notes and outlines, hoping to find enough material to get her started. What Lowen doesn't expect to uncover in the chaotic office is an unfinished autobiography Verity never intended for anyone to read.

Beckett: If you’re reading this, well, you know the last-letter drill. You made it. I didn’t. Get off the guilt train, because I know if there was any chance you could have saved me, you would have. I need one thing from you: get out of the army and get to Telluride. My little sister Ella’s raising the twins alone. She’s too independent and won’t accept help easily, but she has lost our grandmother, our parents, and now me. It’s too much for anyone to endure. And here’s the kicker: there’s something else you don’t know that’s tearing her family apart.

Ryder, Garrett, Kenzo, and Diesel - The Vipers. Their deals are as sordid as their business, and their reputation is enough to bring a grown man to his knees, forcing him to beg for mercy. They are not people you mess with, yet my dad did. The old man ran up a debt with them and then sold me to cover his losses. Yes, sold me. They own me now. I’m theirs in every sense of the word. But I’ve never been meek and compliant.

Hattie Murton never dreamed of TV stardom. A straight-from-a-fairytale encounter with a casting agent somehow landed her a part on what she’d thought would be a one-off pilot for Leicester Square…