Four years ago, Ryan Shaw broke my heart, tore it into little pieces and then stomped on it. Ryan is my fated mate, but when I saw him with another woman at the regional meet of all the Packs, I’d had enough. I finally told him what he meant to me, and being the jerk that he is, he rejected me in front of everyone. Heartbroken, I ran, trying to get as far away from him and the memory of that night as possible. Except I’m on a roll with picking jerks. So now I’m on the run again and heading back to the one place I know I’ll be safe.

Most prisoners believe their punishment is unfair, but for Ryan Tarkett, it’s true. While serving his sentence, an attack sets off a chain of events and forces Ryan to speed up the timeline on an insane escape plan. Spurring him on are memories of his past, his one love, who he met in juvie, and the driving desire for freedom. When Ryan believes he has nothing left to lose, escape from prison becomes the only option.

Easton Calloway needs a wifey, pronto, and he chooses me to temporarily fill the position. While I want to tell him to eff off, I can't walk away from the temptation. So, I do what any broke actress living in New York City would do, and I agree to the terms and conditions. It should be easy: a year of marriage, a cushy penthouse in the city, and a spending allowance. After three hundred sixty-five days, I'll receive divorce papers and a check in the mail. All I have to do is pretend we're happily married without falling in love.

He’s evil incarnate, cloaked in a beautiful disguise. My father uprooted our family, forcing me to relocate to America. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’s making me marry the son of a psychopath. Maxim Volkov. Heir to the Volkov Bratva. I’d rather die than be shackled to a man so evil. A man who has no soul. His piercing blue eyes are as cold as his stony heart. And he’s not exactly thrilled, either. My life has never felt so hopeless.

When I smelled the enemy in our territory, my wolf nearly tore her apart. But instead of a vampire, I found a human female. Shaken, starving, and afraid. In need of protection. My protection. Once the vampire stink is washed off her, she smells divine. Her scent calls to me like nothing else ever has, driving my instincts to keep her safe.

I'm your typical small-town loser stuck in a dead-end job. Single, because dating is for well-adjusted human beings, not traumatized gay boys with trust issues. All I want is to leave my past behind and finally start living. My wish comes true in the most bizarre way imaginable. One evening, a beautiful man with pointy ears and flowing dark locks appears out of nowhere. He proclaims I am to be his 'Dark Companion' based on some stupid deal I made in a dream. Oh, and apparently he's an elven prince, the Lord of Shadows, Protector of the Nightmare Realm, and Knight of Grief Ocean.

I’m Lucy, alpha werewolf of a pack that hates me. I inherited the pack when I mercy-killed the current alpha at his behest. I did the right thing, but it’s left me head of a werewolf pack who resent that I still live and breathe while their old alpha doesn't.

Our pasts were a part of us. Definitively. Irrevocably. Mine hijacked my dreams every night, drowning me in guilt and staining my hands red. It wasn't just a part of me, it stole a piece of me—the piece that stopped me from letting people get too close. And I'd become pretty damn good at playing the untouchable asshole card just to keep them away. But apparently, Dakota Samuels didn't get that memo.

Rory is an omega prince, heir to the throne of the magical kingdom of Igella. His country's laws dictate that omegas must have a Regent to rule in their stead-and that the Regent must be an Alpha. Rory's wicked stepmother, Queen Berenda, needs to find an unscrupulous Alpha, because she has nefarious plans for her stepson.

My bear is wild. Totally uncivilized. Savage. I’m not the nice bear. That’s my twin, Teddy. I keep my bear caged. Until I meet Paloma and my bear goes wild. She’s beautiful and talented, but something’s rotten in this mansion in the Hamptons. Her foster father keeps her locked in a tower, surrounded by guards. There are whispers of an auction–a virgin auction. My bear’s about to break free and go on a rampage. But I can’t let him out.

She should say no. Addison Davenport figures that most people likely would. But after having her life plans repeatedly derailed, she's come to wonder if her chance at marriage and kids ended with the death of her college boyfriend. So when business powerhouse Daxton "Dax" Mercier—a man who's suffered a similar loss, a man who's her first in every way—asks her to honor the fallback marriage pact they made years ago, she doesn't reject it out of hand.

A legal technicality might be the reason I’m out of prison after serving only two years of what should have been multiple life sentences, but all I care about now is finding the man who put me behind bars in the first place. JJ Ferguson needs to see firsthand what his lies have turned me into. Two years ago, JJ and I should have been talking about our future together. Our lives had changed that night, just not in the way they should have.

I see dead people, and not just the men I murdered. I'm in danger of being committed because I can’t tell what’s real from my hallucinations. Everyone thinks I’m crazy when the serial killer I jilted starts haunting my house. He assassinates any man who shows me interest, leaving their body parts under my pillow. During the day, his gaslighting destroys my peace of mind. But at night, he invades my nightmares and makes me crave the depravity.

Emmett Lasker is impossible to work for. He might be model handsome and stupidly wealthy, but he also has it out for me. He’s given me more last-minute and weekend requests than anyone else, ruining any plans I make. I should quit. And I will. Just as soon as I hit my two-year anniversary and earn out my signing bonus. But after a particularly awful day at work, a breakup (via text!), and my computer crashing, I’ve had enough! So at 11:59 Friday night, I barge into Emmett’s office to tell him what I really think of him. Only, that’s not what happens. AT ALL.

According to the FBI, I was considered a serial murderer after three kills. What do they call me after fifty-two? They call me the Silencer. One final bullet would have been all it took to stop me from taking another soul, and I would have been doing Meridian City a service by pulling that trigger. An angel crying for help stopped me, and that night, I took three lives for her. Then three turned into eight. Then eight turned into twenty. Twenty turned into twenty-one. Twenty-one turned into twenty-three.