Rita

Mercer Bentley Palmerston is an outcast—the pariah of his family—so what better source to get dirt on the Palmerstons than their black sheep? Intrigued by his lingerie, Blake sees an opportunity to get closer to Mercer, but he has no idea how much trouble he's invited into his life by taking him in. Mercer might be a brat, but Blake has no interest in taming him. He's a sly demon with ever-changing rules, a larger-than-life personality, and covers his weaknesses with sharp wit. There's more to Mercer than his outright refusal to behave, and Blake is the only one who realizes why.

Raylee Lexington Adams is my stepsister and the one woman in the world who can make my blood boil. She’s vindictive, a lot of crazy, and absolutely stunning. I hate everything about her except for when she’s on her knees begging me to use her as my own personal toy. We’ve been playing a game of cat and mouse for far too long. We have used each other for our own sick pleasure.

Duty, honor, and sacrifice. Dedicating my life to these elements, for family and country, leaves little for myself in return. It's why I indulge in a no-strings hookup with a handsome stranger mere days before heading half-a-world away. Except one night turns into a week-long fling, creating a connection at the most inopportune time. And neither of us want it to end. Staying in touch is easy at first, but dwindles to radio silence and distant memories as time passes.

Sol Davenport hasn’t seen Butch since high school, and his handsome face brings back memories of a Sol he’d rather forget—a Sol he left behind. Maybe Butch is avoiding him because he shares those same memories. Which is a pity, because Butch is even hotter now than he was back when Sol was firmly wedged in his closet. But a lot of things have happened since then, like the heartache he yearns to forget. A heartache he will keep far from his door.

He's a bad man, and I don't mean trash like your ex. I mean seriously bad. I mean dangerous. You can tell just by looking at him: black eyes, a menacing scowl, and a nose that's been badly broken in the past. He is my arch-nemesis. My mortal enemy. My singular obsession. I was afraid of him when we met. He kidnapped and chained me to a bed. Me—Damon Alexander Beckett of BeckIT fame and fortune. Well, the joke's on him because I'm going to make it my life's mission to destroy him. But first, I have to survive being his captive.

Spark of Hope: A bi-weekly trauma support group. This is my nightmare. When I think of a support group, I think of sad people sitting around talking about their feelings and nothing changing. And yet, when my brother and his best friend, who happens to be a therapist, presented the idea of holding the meetings at my gym, I caved. Because I, Benjamin Price, have always tried to rescue the people in my life. But I can’t. I’ve usually failed them.

As the firstborn of the Dupree family, I have spent my life building the wealth and power of our mafia empire while keeping our dark secret hidden and my savage hunger at bay. But the beast within me cannot be chained forever, and I must claim a mate before I lose control completely....

They call him the puppet master. They say he's dirty, dark and dangerous. And they're right. He's everything they say he is, and more. So much more.... Alexander Henley has no idea I exist. No idea whatsoever how much I want him. But that's all about to change.

I kissed my father’s best friend, and it kind of didn’t go well. Not only because he’s 18 years older than me - but he also didn’t like it. Not one bit. In my defense, I didn’t mean to fall for him. It just happened. Nathaniel Weaver is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen with enough charisma to blind the sun. He’s bigger than the world, owns half of it, and conquered the other half. He was forbidden. Wrong. So I totally got over him. Or so I told myself. Until we’re forced to get married.

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. Friends don't bang friends. I want my friends to stay in my life, especially that flirty, clever, outgoing best friend of mine. It's a darn good thing Owen and I made a pact in college to never ever sleep together, or else I'd be tempted. Trouble is, eight years later, I've been wondering what his kisses taste like. And I've been curious if our chemistry would extend into the bedroom. If he might feel the same risky pull. But I don't want to lose Owen.