I was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own. 

Our marriage is a sham. I'm the first to admit it. Only privately, of course. Notorious playboy Luka Zoric needs a wife and the good PR it brings. I just need the career boost being his top model will give me. It's a win-win - on paper. But since when has real life been simple? His jealousy makes me crazy. The control he maintains over my body is unacceptable. I really shouldn't be so turned on by it. But there's more to both me and my husband than meets the eye.And it isn't long before I'm wondering - which of us has made the bigger mistake?

Mr. Santillian, Despite the fact I'm currently living out of your guest room and sleeping with you most nights, I am writing to announce my resignation, effective two weeks from today. In other words, I'll locate someone who is both obscenely overqualified and willing to devote their days to the handful of tasks you are able to wrench from your perfectionist, micromanaging grip.

My life is in ruins. Failed marriage, failed career - I'm a failure. My husband may have had a hand in it, but I can't help missing him. We made an agreement. I signed the contract, and so did he. Without our arrangement, everything falls apart. So we'll keep losing ourselves in each other's bodies. We'll keep pretending everything is fine. But maybe I'm getting sick of pretend. Maybe I want to find something real. And just maybe, Luka does too.

If only I'd never signed that contract. Or accepted the one I didn't. My husband doesn't trust me. Not that I can blame him. But he needs me, needs my image. I need his connections. And I have to find a way to convince him to set aside our differences. There's one way that always works. Even when we hate each other, our bodies betray us. The one place we've never disagreed is in bed. Except this is about more than just us. And even Luka Zoric's legendary control breaks sometimes.

I didn't mean to star in a sex tape, okay? It was just one of those unexplainable things. Like Stonehenge, Police Academy 2, and morning glory clouds. It just happened. Now, my ball-busting father is sentencing me to six months of celibacy, sobriety, and morbid boredom under the roof of Boston's nerdiest girl alive, Sailor Brennan. The virginal archer is supposed to babysit my ass while I learn to take my place in Royal Pipelines, my family's oil company. Little does she know, that's not the only pipe I'll be laying....

My plan was simple. Get invited onto his yacht. Find information to destroy him. But I wasn't prepared for Alaric Prince. Dangerous and seductive, he trapped me in his gilded cage. He calls me Dove. Easily preyed on. Easily broken. A man that ruthless only wants to crush me. I must resist the temptation to let him.

With the paparazzi hot on her heels, Mandy Bettencourt is desperate for somewhere to hide, and her best friend has just the place. It’s perfect. No Internet. No phone. A deep bathtub she’s busy soaking in when he shows up. Her best friend’s brother, Dante Crowne. Rich as a cardinal sin and handsome enough to piss off the devil. A man with a brooding, no-nonsense attitude and a reputation for unforgettable bedroom games. 

The feud between Weston Lockwood and me started at the altar. Only neither of us attended the wedding, and the nuptials happened decades before either of us was born. Our grandfathers had been best friends and business partners, at least up until my grandfather’s wedding day - when his bride-to-be blurted out she couldn’t marry him because she was also in love with Weston‘s grandfather.  

They say Cyrus Reed is ruthless. That he rules the underworld with an iron fist. A criminal. A murderer. A monster. He controlled fortunes and amassed empires. Our paths should never have crossed, but one poker game intertwined our fate. I woke up stranded on his island. Trapped. Forced to play a dangerous game of hate and lust. He said he took me to protect me. That he was saving me. But who will save me from him?

With Audie Award Winners Sebastian York, Andi Arndt and Elena Wolfe...Four standalone romance novels with heroes who are Good in Bed. 

My love story all started with a letter. Only it wasn’t from the man I’d eventually fall in love with. It was from his daughter. A sweet little girl named Birdie Maxwell who’d written to the magazine that I worked for. You see, once a year my employer fulfilled a few wishes for readers. Only that column didn’t start up again for months. So I fulfilled some of her wishes myself. It was harmless…so I thought. Until one day I took things too far. While anonymously granting yet another of Birdie’s wishes, I got a look at her father.

One night. No names. No commitment. That was our agreement. But Spencer Lancaster was addictive. And I was high. High off his taste, starved for his kiss, and desperate for his touch. So when he asked me to stay, to enjoy his company for more nights than I knew I should, I wasn't in the right mind to say no. Everything was perfect. A dream come true. But half a world away, there were secrets. Lies. Insecurities. All of the truths that could tear us apart.

Deacon was rough on the exterior, but apparently on the inside? Mr. Single-and-Ready-to-Mingle was a baby whisperer. After that night, we became friends. He’d go for coffee runs. Come over to chat. Normal friend stuff. But over time, our conversations ran deeper. We got closer. Until one night we crossed the line.  

Once upon a cold, dark night, a Russian killer stole me from an alley. I’m dangerous, but he is lethal. I escaped once. He won’t let me do it twice. The revenge is his. The betrayal is mine. But so are the lies to protect the ones I love. We’re cut from the same twisted cloth. Both merciless. Both damaged. In his embrace, I find hell and heaven, his cruelly tender touch destroying and uplifting me at once. They say a cat has nine lives, but an assassin has just one. And Yan Ivanov now owns mine.