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.

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.

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.

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.

We're not free to give into this. She's 19, and I'm 38. And I'm her boyfriend's father. Unfortunately, they both just moved into my house.

Leander Mast didn’t ask to come to Rivenfield, and he definitely didn’t ask to be thrust into the middle of a neighborhood battle over an ancient tree, but as a Giwoggle—who goes wherever a witch might conjure him—he doesn’t have much choice in the matter. And Leander definitely doesn’t count on getting stuck. While Leander attempts to get home, struggling against the magic keeping him from stepping outside the town limits, he butts heads with Ben, his new grumpy neighbor. And it doesn’t help that Leander cut down Ben’s tree.

Getting abducted by aliens wasn’t exactly on Cara Call’s bucket list. So when she’s taken captive by a massive, overbearing alien warrior, she comes out with fists blazing. Too bad her new captor is as delicious as they come—piercings, scars, and a sinful grin promising wicked things to boot.

All I wanted was to be away from the limelight, away from my parents. A perfect place where I could live a simple life. A fresh start. A small beach town. That's what I thought I found, until the tortured ocean-colored eyes of the town outcast catch me off guard. Everyone warns me to stay away from him. They tell me he's a monster. His eyes tell another story, though, and I need to know what it is. It becomes almost an obsession.

Nico knows he’s difficult; he has the string of exes to prove it. But staying sharp was the only way to stay safe in the cutthroat world of modeling, and it turns out, graduate school isn’t any gentler. Career first. Boys…later. Jadon knows he’s burning out; his partner at the Metropolitan Police is more than happy to remind him of that fact. But the last time he let himself get distracted, people died, and he’s not going to let it happen again. And Nico was nothing but a distraction.

I admit it was me who shouted, “Looking good, hot stuff!” at Mr. Richmond this morning, but I didn’t mean it like that. Yes, Mrs. HR Lady, I know how it looks. Believe me, I am totally anti-catcalling, but that’s not what that was. Honest. I was paying him a compliment! That’s kind of what I do: I’m a proud, small-town Floridian, and Manhattan is craving some Florida sunshine—nothing like a sincere compliment to turn those New York frowns upside down!