"I need the perfect woman. There's no room for feelings in public life." "Okay!" Meghan replies, but feels her heart yearning for more... I'm Trevor Dean. Son of a wealthy New York family. A playboy straight out of central casting. My goal: I want to become the most powerful man in the world! To achieve this, my manager is working hard on my image. Her first job? Find the ideal woman for an arranged marriage. Deal. I'm Meghan Allen. An arranged marriage is the perfect opportunity to pay off the debts my ex left me with when he abandoned me. Deal. Everything would be perfect.

Lucian Daire wants my family's company. I want to watch him burn for it. He thinks I'm nothing more than a spoiled princess, and I think he's a heartless bastard. But no matter how much we push, we keep pulling back together. When I discover he needs a wife and he realizes my determination to save my family's legacy, a deal is struck—lines are drawn. But the more we fight, the more those lines blur. Because hatred is just passion turned inside out. And when it finally explodes, it threatens to destroy us both. And we might just be desperate enough to let it.

I never thought I’d find her. After eight years in the marines, I’m still looking for the mysterious woman I’ve obsessed over since her first letter. When she shows up in my small town, I’m thrilled. But when she turns out to be my brother’s best friend--and the girl he’s always loved--I’m caught between the two people who matter to me the most.

With one glance at her in the club, I’m ready to claim her for the night. Dark, flowing hair. A smile that causes my heart to pound. Eyes that pierce my soul. And a perfect body that makes every part of me pulse. She’s addictive. Electrifying. Consuming. I’ve never wanted anyone more. Our eyes meet, but she looks right past me. She isn’t here for me. She’s here for the music. For the first time in my life, a woman makes me work for it. Her indifference fuels the fire inside me. The result? One night. No names. No introductions.

As your paralegal (and ex), I have to be honest: You’re a horrible lawyer. Honestly, the worst I’ve ever seen. You never communicate, you pile on overtime, and you’re constantly in a bad mood. Now, about those panties on your desk. No, that wasn’t a desperate cry for your attention. It was the result of a lost bet with my roommate. But if you were even half the lawyer you claim to be, you’d have figured that out without all the ego-tripping.