Nicholas Harris is a professional badass. Ex-Army Ranger, former personal security for the one and only Valentine Roth, mercenary, assassin, pilot, and my lover. After Roth and Kyrie holed up in their island fortress estate in the Caribbean, Nick started a private security contracting company: Alpha One Security. He hired the best of the best, the scariest, nastiest, toughest - and sexiest - security experts in the business.

Your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, right? That's what they say, at least. I went into that day hoping I'd get the happiest day of my life. What I got? The worst. I mean, you really can't get any worse of a day without someone actually dying. So...I may have gotten just a little drunk, and maybe just a tad impetuous...and landed myself in a dive bar somewhere in Alaska, alone, still in my wedding dress, half wasted and heartbroken.

So how did I get myself into this situation, you ask? Simple: desperation. When you're faced with being homeless and hungry or taking off your clothes for money, the choice is easier than you'd imagine. That doesn't make it simple, though. Oh no. I hate it, in fact. There's nothing I'd like more than to quit and never go into another bar again, never hear the techno beat pulsing in my ears again, never feel the lecherous gazes of horny men again. Then, one day, I meet a man. He's in my club, front and center. He watches me do my routine, and his gaze is full of hunger.

It started with a window that was jammed shut. Pretty simple, right? All I wanted was to open the windows while I tidied the house. I'd been after my no-good husband to do it for months, but he never did. And then he shacked up with his secretary, leaving me with a pile of bills, husband-free for the first time in 10 years, and with a house that was falling apart. The ad popped up on the side of my social media feed - a local contracting agency willing to do pretty much anything. Since I don't really know a screwdriver from a ratchet, I gave them a call.

One year ago, I buried my husband. One year ago, I held his hand and said goodbye. Now I spend most of my days lost somewhere between trying to remember every smallest detail of our lives, and trying to forget it all. I fill my hours with work until I’m too exhausted to remember him, to feel anything at all. One year, 365 days - and then one knock at my door changes everything. A letter from him, a last request, a secret will: My dearest Nadia, trust me, my love. One last time, trust me. Sometimes the epilogue to one story is the beginning of another.

I live my life by a few simple rules—let no one in, trust only my family, and don’t ever spend more than three nights with a woman. Those are easy enough to abide by until I meet gorgeous, captivating, and absolutely brilliant Sophie Winston and fall into a dangerous romance with the sister of the detective investigating my father’s murder.

Running away from home at 17 wasn't easy. Let's face it, though, nothing before or in the ten years since has ever been easy for me. And I'm doing okay—sorta. I just need to keep scraping by, living under the radar. Staying out of people's way, off people's minds. When a man walks through my open patio door, stepping boldly into my home and my life, I should be scared, frightened, terrified. I must be more broken than I realized because I'm none of those things. I'm intrigued—and I'm wondering if the way to take control of my life is by giving in to him.

I hate Dante Moretti. He is cold, calculating, and vicious. It’s no secret that he wiped out his former fiancée and her entire family on the eve of their wedding. He’s the kind of evil that makes even devils cry. But that’s not why I hate him.

When my grandmother found out she didn’t have long to live, she embarked on a crazy trip—jumping out of airplanes and scuba diving with sharks. After I repeatedly voiced my concern, Gram blocked me—her own grandson—on text and social media, leaving me only her travel companion Eleanor’s number.

A call from a distraught wife, and another from Lt. Murphy of the Chicago PD Special Investigation Unit makes Harry believe things are looking up, but they are about to get worse, much worse. Someone is harnessing immense supernatural forces to commit a series of grisly murders. Someone has violated the first law of magic: Thou Shalt Not Kill. Tracking that someone takes Harry into the dangerous underbelly of Chicago, from mobsters to vampires....

Sometimes you meet someone - maybe meet isn't the right word. You don't even have say hello for this to happen. You simply pass by them, and everything in your world changes forever. Chills flow all the way from the crook in your neck where you imagine he'd kiss you, all the way down, with only a single glance. I know you know what I'm referring to. The moment when something inside of you ignites to life, recognizing their other half that's been gone for far too long. It burns hot, destroying any hope that it's only a coincidence, and that life will go back to what it was.

When nineteen-year-old huntress Feyre kills a wolf in the woods, a terrifying creature arrives to demand retribution. Dragged to a treacherous magical land she knows about only from legends, Feyre discovers that her captor is not truly a beast, but one of the lethal, immortal faeries who once ruled her world. At least, he’s not a beast all the time.

One wardrobe malfunction. Two people who don’t belong together. Three awful words: “Be my wife."

Will Robie may have just made the first - and last - mistake of his career.... It begins with a hit gone wrong. Robie is dispatched to eliminate a target unusually close to home in Washington, D.C. But something about this mission doesn't seem right to Robie, and he does the unthinkable: He refuses to kill. Now, Robie becomes a target himself and must escape from his own people.

Fleeing the scene, Robie crosses paths with a wayward teenage girl, a 14-year-old runaway from a foster home. But she isn't an ordinary runaway....

I’m not supposed to fall in love with my husband. It’s not part of my plan. Forgive me. Those were the first words Santos Augustine spoke to me before we sealed an unbreakable oath. A contract signed in blood binding me to him as payment for my father’s sins.

Your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, right? That's what they say, at least. I went into that day hoping I'd get the happiest day of my life. What I got? The worst. I mean, you really can't get any worse of a day without someone actually dying. So...I may have gotten just a little drunk, and maybe just a tad impetuous...and landed myself in a dive bar somewhere in Alaska, alone, still in my wedding dress, half wasted and heartbroken.

I don’t need a pack. I’m doing just fine on my own. Until one tiny mistake has me perfuming enough to draw every enforcement officer in a ten-block radius. I know what awaits me if I go into custody as an unclaimed Omega, so when a blazing hot and surprisingly kind Alpha throws me a life raft, I grab hold with both hands. Only problem? He didn’t exactly clear his claim on me with his pack. They don’t want an Omega—especially Thane, who seems to be calling the shots.

One year ago, I buried my husband. One year ago, I held his hand and said goodbye. Now I spend most of my days lost somewhere between trying to remember every smallest detail of our lives, and trying to forget it all. I fill my hours with work until I’m too exhausted to remember him, to feel anything at all. One year, 365 days - and then one knock at my door changes everything. A letter from him, a last request, a secret will: My dearest Nadia, trust me, my love. One last time, trust me. Sometimes the epilogue to one story is the beginning of another.

So how did I get myself into this situation, you ask? Simple: desperation. When you're faced with being homeless and hungry or taking off your clothes for money, the choice is easier than you'd imagine. That doesn't make it simple, though. Oh no. I hate it, in fact. There's nothing I'd like more than to quit and never go into another bar again, never hear the techno beat pulsing in my ears again, never feel the lecherous gazes of horny men again. Then, one day, I meet a man. He's in my club, front and center. He watches me do my routine, and his gaze is full of hunger.

The Omega War made every omega the property of the government. Now, my body doesn't belong to me. I need permission to eat, to sleep, to breathe. The only thing I have left is my heart, but when the winter pack save me from a dangerous situation, they might take that from me too. For Harper, joining the winter pack is a risk, one she doesn’t have a choice in. Being owned by an alpha pack means following the omega creed, a set of laws to prevent omegas from having any influence.