I fell hard for the Mafioso at the tender age of 11. This beast of a man who I knew made people disappear - and probably enjoyed every second of it - was also the 16-year-old boy who had picked me up after I'd fallen flat on my face during my dance recital and told me I was the best ballerina he'd ever seen. He's watched over me, protected me like I was the most precious thing in the world to him. And then he sent me away.

Lexa: These feelings I have for Ben can't go anywhere. I'm the Angels Halo MC president's daughter. And he is the sheriff. For the sake of both of us, I have to keep him away. Ben: Lexa calms the rage that I've struggled with my entire life. I couldn't care less who her father is. Nothing matters but making her mine. Because my broken beauty is where my salvation begins.

Creswell Springs is a small town in Trinity County, California. Population 1,500 - maybe. It's a quiet town, with small town values. Its greatest income is the university just outside of the town limits...and the revenue the local motorcycle club brings in. I was the MC's only weakness. Or so my father use to tell me as I was growing up. Mad Max Hannigan was once Angel's Halos' president. He made the rules and everyone was expected to follow them or come face to fist with the enforcer....

So yeah, my dad is a rock star; he's the drummer for OtherWorld. And Lucy was and always will be the only girl to ever know the real me. She was my best friend, my voice of reason. My sanity. Maybe she outgrew me. But I will never outgrow her. It's been years since I've seen her, and I miss her so damn bad. All I want is a chance to get back what we've lost, to have my best friend in my life again. I wasn't counting on how grown-up my friend might have gotten, how beautiful she is now.

All it took was one look, one kiss. The promises he made - I should have known better. He was a rock star and I had no time for a guy like him in my life. I fell anyway. I believed his promises. Held onto them and waited. But the thing about rockers is that their private lives are never truly private. Seeing him on the cover of a national tabloid shouldn't have surprised me. Seeing him with two women all over him? That nearly broke me. Now the memory of that first magical kiss was tainted.

My best friend’s baby sister was the thing wet dreams were made of. Killer body, sexy personality, and the ability to win my daughter over with that disarming smile of hers....

Our Broken Love is a collection of novellas by Terri Anne Browning, three of which were originally written under a different pen name. Follow five stories of women who don't realize just how strong they are until their hearts are shattered.

Sometimes you need to crash a funeral to experience happiness. At least Kissimmee Singh, aerial artist for Singh Circus, the most sought-after traveling circus of all time, keeps telling herself that’s why she crashes funerals. In reality, she’s lost and confused. Sometimes it’s nice to experience other people’s grief and be reminded that life isn’t as bad as it could be.

Secrets...dirty ones. He was mine...there was a time.... Or so I thought. Instead, I was simply his dirty little secret. He couldn't, no, wouldn't, risk telling his best friend - my brother - about us. So, I kept quiet. Blinded by love and bound by my own desires, I allowed it all. I didn't tell a single soul about my time with Sawyer, not my brother, not my closest friends. Not then, and especially not now. How can I? My best friend is his ex-wife. The past is the past. I'm over him. I refuse to still love him.

I’m not looking for a hero, and definitely not a fake relationship with my new boss, nightclub owner Dante Fury—over six feet of dark, hot, and dangerous. But he isn’t taking no for an answer. The plan was to run, live under the radar, survive. My life’s been destroyed by some very bad people and everything I know is gone—career, friends, family. I thought I could hide as a bartender at New Orleans’ hottest new club, Ember.

Belles and Mobsters were never meant to be together. And I still fell in love with him, only to be torn apart. Lesson learned.

Running away from home at 17 wasn't easy. Let's face it, though, nothing before or in the ten years since has ever been easy for me. And I'm doing okay—sorta. I just need to keep scraping by, living under the radar. Staying out of people's way, off people's minds. When a man walks through my open patio door, stepping boldly into my home and my life, I should be scared, frightened, terrified. I must be more broken than I realized because I'm none of those things. I'm intrigued—and I'm wondering if the way to take control of my life is by giving in to him.

One wardrobe malfunction. Two people who don’t belong together. Three awful words: “Be my wife."

I hate Dante Moretti. He is cold, calculating, and vicious. It’s no secret that he wiped out his former fiancée and her entire family on the eve of their wedding. He’s the kind of evil that makes even devils cry. But that’s not why I hate him.

Charming, captivating, seductive—and a cold-blooded killer. I married the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva anyway. I had to, it was part of the deal. Now, I’m faking marital bliss as I tremble with fear, and I cannot wait to be out of the clutches of this ruthless man.