The dirty little secret Dad left in the basement was supposed to be our salvation. Guess nobody told him you don't take cash from killers without savage consequences. Now the Grizzlies Motorcycle Club owns my sister and me. We're only alive because the rugged hulk with the piercing eyes who won't stop ordering me around says so. He saved us, but he's also an enigma I don't understand.

They call me Ghost for a reason. Silent and in the shadows, I don't make my move until I am absolutely sure of everything. Four years ago I was sure about Jenna. My best friend's kid sister had grown up into a spitfire I couldn't resist. One night we stopped resisting. We promised we'd keep it a secret. It was a one-time mistake, but we'd put it behind us. Jenna tried to get out of our corrupt town, but it pulled her back in again. Now she needs help. I'll do all of that for her, if she'll just shut the hell up and let me. She can even keep all of her secrets, except for one.

From the moment I saw her through the window of her flower shop, something other than darkness took root inside me. Charlie shone like a beacon in a world that had long since lost any light. But she was never meant for me, a man that killed without remorse and collected bounties drenched in blood. I thought staying away would keep her safe, would shield her from me. I was wrong. Danger followed in my wake like death at a slaughter house. I protected her from the threats that circled like black buzzards, kept her safe with kill after kill.

Marshal Howard is a death wish wrapped in mystery. Cold, rude, insanely overprotective single dad. Everyone in our little town warned me to stay far, far away. I didn't listen. I answered the castoff's nanny ad because no one else would. I got too close. I saw through his vicious reputation. He's a man who's turning my heart inside out, making me a fool. If it was just the bad blood with him and my family, maybe we'd work through this. Maybe we'd find paradise. Just me, him, and that adorable little girl. But surprises come in threes. Like the lines on the pregnancy test.

I loved her like a sister forever ago. Before life served us tragedy with a bitter cherry on top. Before I learned love isn't a damn fairy tale. Before I became a single dad. Protecting my little girl is all I still care about. Kendra is my lifeline if she'll just play along. Her job is easy. Wear my ring. Turn my scowl into a family man's smile. Help save my daughter from a scorched earth custody fight. She gets the Cinderella treatment in return. My money, my mansion, my reputation. Simple. Painless. Mutual.

I just ran into the girl who got away. Holding a hate letter addressed to me. And now we're stranded in an elevator. Last time we kissed, it was final. I wasn't supposed to see her again. Not in this city. On this elevator. The moment it craps out, stranding us overnight with animal cravings and fencing lies. Last time we kissed, how could we know our next might truly, madly, beautifully restore us?

He never bothered with hello. The shrieking hot stranger had me dizzy the instant he said we're engaged. Then he chased off the bully on our heels and dragged me back to his place for the night. Pure insanity, right? Wrong. You don't let pride do the talking when you're homeless, on the run, and hauling around your sick father in a truck so old it must've been on Noah's Ark. You definitely don't complain when Ridge Barnet takes charge. (In)famous heartthrob. Stinking rich. Fed up owner of one angry rooster. Eyes set to permanent storm.

It was one freaking kiss with a stranger. I wasn't looking for a hero the day Brent Eden charged into my life. He saw a damsel in distress facing humiliation. We played pretend. Swore I was his. Baited sweet chaos. Blew apart everything. My dating disaster? Gone. Our kiss? Electric. Divine. Toe-curling. His mistake? Oh, boy. Dropping the ultimate F-bomb: fiancée. Especially when my gossipy cousin tells the whole family.

Strange men do funny things when you score the last cinnamon roll. Sometimes he rages about the high crime of jacking his precious pastry. Sometimes he offers you ludicrous bribes to buy it back. And sometimes—after shattering your faith in humanity—you find out he's your new boss. I'm not laughing.

My biological clock just exploded. Eighteen months. That's how long I have to make a baby happen before it becomes one more broken dream. Fate has a sick sense of humor, though. Its name is Hayden Shaw. Yes, the Hayden Shaw. Billionaire developer, scandalously gorgeous, his hard-headed ego only eclipsed by his enormous...reputation. He needs a bride to fool the world. I need a baby. It's simple business. Strictly professional.

As the VP of Kings of Retribution MC, I live and breathe club life. After suffering the loss of two women in my life, I grew cold and indifferent to the idea of love. I don't need to let anyone in. I've seen the aftermath it can leave in its quake. The last thing I'm looking for is someone to fill the void, until Bella Jameson.

Life as I knew it ended with a bullet. It stole my brother from me and destroyed my family. From the ashes, I rose stronger and meaner, to exact the kind of revenge best served bloody and cold. I took out every single person I held responsible. Except one. He’s a phantom but his days are numbered. I won’t stop until I’m done. Then she shows up—the forbidden fruit, a light to my darkness. I should resist her because what I touch, I destroy. My feisty wildflower deserves more: more than this, more than me.

A letter from my first kiss and my childhood everything...from prison. He may be nicknamed Saint, but this sweet, sexy biker most definitely has a wild streak. Hearing from him draws me right back into the Knights of Fury motorcycle club - the people I’ll always think of as family. He’s still the only man I’ve ever wanted. Each good, old-fashioned letter from my “prison pen pal” has my heart racing. Which is nothing compared to how I feel when Saint surprises me in person, as a free man.

Trip, son of the former president of the Blood Fury MC, is determined to resurrect his dead father's destroyed club. It’ll be a long, difficult road as the new president attempts to rebuild the club from the cold ashes left behind. Bad blood and bitter memories are only some of the obstacles Trip has to overcome. The local police department, Manning Grove PD, is another, since they don’t want to see their small town once again overrun by outlaw bikers.

After spending the last 10 years in prison, Zak, former DAMC president, has a few priorities: to reconnect with his “brothers”, to get drunk, and to get laid. Not necessarily in that order. When he spots a stunning woman in the clubhouse and mistakes her for one of the club’s strippers, those priorities get a bit skewed.

The dirty little secret Dad left in the basement was supposed to be our salvation. Guess nobody told him you don't take cash from killers without savage consequences. Now the Grizzlies Motorcycle Club owns my sister and me. We're only alive because the rugged hulk with the piercing eyes who won't stop ordering me around says so. He saved us, but he's also an enigma I don't understand.

Grief and loneliness have been my closest friends for a year, and a change is long overdue. A walk down memory lane in my hometown sounds ideal to start letting go of this never-ending sorrow and try to meet again the carefree, happy girl I once was. But back in Texas, it's not that girl I meet first. Nate Bowers, president of the Chaos Chasers, is not a saint. He says so himself. As a pragmatic teacher, I should flee from that handsome man as fast as I can. But behind his hard exterior and primitive side, all I see in his brown eyes is a caring, gentle man he shows only to me.

As the gun lay heavily in his hand, the weight of it was nothing compared to the pressure his father had put on him and the Vipers Creed Motorcycle Club year after year, dragging them all down in the process. Cade had two choices: the club or his father. The club won. It took a particular kind of man to kill his blood, but Cade had always believed in doing what was right for the club. To him, it was a small sacrifice to make things normal for him and his brothers. Then, when Trixie strode into his club, his normal was shot to hell.

My biological clock just exploded. Eighteen months. That's how long I have to make a baby happen before it becomes one more broken dream. Fate has a sick sense of humor, though. Its name is Hayden Shaw. Yes, the Hayden Shaw. Billionaire developer, scandalously gorgeous, his hard-headed ego only eclipsed by his enormous...reputation. He needs a bride to fool the world. I need a baby. It's simple business. Strictly professional.

Cami was raised around the Savage Disciples MC until she left to build a life of her own. It's fine that she lives with her fiance's suffocating passive aggression. It's fine that she's turning to drugs to self-medicate. When Gauge tags along to visit his club brother's daughter, he can't believe the two women he meets: the fiery daughter of a biker and the puppet with the blank affect. And yet, they're both Cami. Right or wrong, he knows he won't stop until he sees her burn bright.

I'm the guy whose name brings fear into the hearts of even the hardest men. They call me Cross because I've killed enough men to fill a cemetery, and I never saw any problem with that - until a woman I hardly remember brought my 11-year-old daughter that I didn't know existed to my doorstep and left her for me to take care of. At first, my daughter was a complication I didn't need, but now I'll do everything I can to raise her right. I'll even stay away from her hot-as-sin guidance counselor Roxanne, who makes me feel like I'm 20 again, and not pushing 40.

He never bothered with hello. The shrieking hot stranger had me dizzy the instant he said we're engaged. Then he chased off the bully on our heels and dragged me back to his place for the night. Pure insanity, right? Wrong. You don't let pride do the talking when you're homeless, on the run, and hauling around your sick father in a truck so old it must've been on Noah's Ark. You definitely don't complain when Ridge Barnet takes charge. (In)famous heartthrob. Stinking rich. Fed up owner of one angry rooster. Eyes set to permanent storm.

Zane has learned everything he knows from his father, the most dangerous biker of the Devil's Dust MC. He devours the darkness with a cocky grin and no f--ks to give. His immoral obsessions barely keep him content in a life of chaos and havoc until he finds himself craving more. Addie doesn't need the risk that comes with Zane . . . that is, until her perfectly orchestrated life takes a sudden turn and she's left with nowhere else to go.

Marshal Howard is a death wish wrapped in mystery. Cold, rude, insanely overprotective single dad. Everyone in our little town warned me to stay far, far away. I didn't listen. I answered the castoff's nanny ad because no one else would. I got too close. I saw through his vicious reputation. He's a man who's turning my heart inside out, making me a fool. If it was just the bad blood with him and my family, maybe we'd work through this. Maybe we'd find paradise. Just me, him, and that adorable little girl. But surprises come in threes. Like the lines on the pregnancy test.

Desperate to escape the demons of her past, Dani is on the run. Her plans to hide out in a sleepy Los Angeles suburb turn into a pipe dream, as she is drawn into the secret-filled world of the local motorcycle club. Dani soon learns that her secrets and lies are nothing compared to those kept behind the clubhouse doors. Trying to avoid the suspicious Vice President, she must keep a low profile in order to survive. The trouble comes when the VP has other ideas. Hero has simple needs. As the Heaven's Rejects Vice President, he has everything he wants at his disposal.

I suppose some of us have to get really dirty before we can become truly clean. I was allegedly South Dakota's most famous Old Lady. Sixteen years ago, I had survived my Old Man's murder. Never again. Never again will I surrender my heart. Never again will I sacrifice to the Club. But that all changed in one night. I came home and crashed into him, and my past and present blew up in my face.

Morgan Powell was raised to be perfect, to set an example for her sisters to follow. Her life has been dedicated to making something of her career, so she wouldn't know what to do with a man even if you gave her an instruction manual. Brett "Ice" Grady spends his days trying to keep up with his teenage daughter, his nights consumed in the Regulators' MC business. He has no time for anything more than a casual hookup. Two worlds collide when the dangers of his life crash into the calm of hers.

I like my sex dirty and disposable. I'm not into commitment or chicks who want more than one night. My brothers and club come first, second, and last. Until she walks into my life. Classy, rich, and so out of my league it's crazy. A week together should get her out of my system, but this good girl is so bad when we're all alone and I can't get enough of her. I don't do forever, but she's hooked me so bad I don't ever want to let her go. Except there's no way a princess can live in my world and I sure as hell won't live in hers . . .

I'm crazy, deranged, and psychotic. I'm out of my mind and my life isn't even mine half the time. Having Dissociative Identity Disorder, it's an accurate assumption. Born an MC brat, my only dream is to wear the colors of my father's club, The Shadow Keepers. To feel the weight of the warm leather press across my back, and to be a part of something with purpose. It wasn't until the last drop of blood dripped from my fingertips and the gun smoke faded into the night sky that I realized what was really important to me. Him. In a blink of an eye, I lost it all. I lost him.

It was one freaking kiss with a stranger. I wasn't looking for a hero the day Brent Eden charged into my life. He saw a damsel in distress facing humiliation. We played pretend. Swore I was his. Baited sweet chaos. Blew apart everything. My dating disaster? Gone. Our kiss? Electric. Divine. Toe-curling. His mistake? Oh, boy. Dropping the ultimate F-bomb: fiancée. Especially when my gossipy cousin tells the whole family.