Five Years Earlier: Henry Dunne knows three things: that agreeing to host this raucous house party was a terrible idea, that he absolutely cannot show up to his nursing shift tomorrow with a hangover, and that the beautiful redhead in the corner will be sleeping in his bed tonight.

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.

Obituary writer Nadine Barbault doesn’t mind being called “Lady Death”. It suits the ice queen persona she’s cultivated to survive the fast-paced Toronto Herald. So when Nadine learns that famous (and reclusive) author Dot Voline has died, she doesn’t hesitate to run the obituary…only to discover that Dot is very much alive. Nadine’s screw-up has brought Wesley Chen of the rival Spear no end of joy—she’s been a thorn in his extremely ambitious side for years. But the renewed interest in Dot also surfaced chatter about a mysterious past scandal.

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.

Romance can be a little complicated when you get sucked into a wormhole. Just ask high school English teacher June Flint. One little solar flare happens and suddenly you find yourself 85 years in the future. Eighty-five years from your dream job. Your ailing mother whose only companion in this world is you. Your favorite stuffed-crust pizza from DeLucia’s on Sunday nights. But when June’s cell phone inexplicably picks up a signal, she’s able to call back to the present—more specifically, four weeks before she accidentally time traveled.

An average romance author? Lately, the only romance action I’ve gotten is from my novels. A gorgeous cover model? He’s handsome and nice and way out of my league. A serious crush? I should know better, yet, I can’t help but fall for him. A chance I can make him mine? Only one way to find out. Put him on a book cover and ask him to a book signing.

This man is temptation personified. He’s six feet four inches of rock-solid, golden muscles that are inked to perfection and proudly displayed every time he steps into the cage. I’m the idiot who agreed to stay with him for the next few days. Hudson “The King” Kingston knew he had a fight coming up when he risked himself to save me. How could I say no when he needed a friend to help him out? Because that’s exactly what we’ve always been—friends. Friends who flirt. Friends who tease. Friends who never cross that line.

No one knows what happens up at Midnight Manor. The home of the Voss brothers sits like a sentinel looking down on our small town, remaining a mystery. The four brooding billionaires rarely leave the confines of the iron gates, fueling rumors that have existed for decades. When my father dies, all the security I’ve known is ripped away, forcing me to come face to face with the eldest brother, Asher Voss. His outward beauty is just as I’d heard—it belies a predatory nature, irresistibly drawing me in.

When my brother’s best friend proposes we get engaged, I’m a fool to say yes. It’s a fake engagement, because men like Jameson Vance don’t fall in love with women like me. He’s a gorgeous billionaire, a marketing genius and a playboy, and he’s only getting engaged to please his family. I’m an introverted writer, just trying to start my life over, and I’d rather mingle with the rose bushes in his garden than fall in love again.

I was too busy giving Renzo hell to notice we weren’t alone. That was my bad. But seriously, the domineering asshole was asking for it. What followed felt like a drug-induced hallucination— Captured at gunpoint, drugged, then taken hundreds of miles from home. Who could have imagined our escape would only make things worse? Stranded in an arctic wilderness, I’ve had no choice but to rely on him for survival. His body’s warmth and well-honed strength. His instincts and persistence.