Lowen Ashleigh is a struggling writer on the brink of financial ruin when she accepts the job offer of a lifetime. Jeremy Crawford, husband of best-selling author Verity Crawford, has hired Lowen to complete the remaining books in a successful series his injured wife is unable to finish. Lowen arrives at the Crawford home, ready to sort through years of Verity's notes and outlines, hoping to find enough material to get her started. What Lowen doesn't expect to uncover in the chaotic office is an unfinished autobiography Verity never intended for anyone to read.

Five Years Earlier: Henry Dunne knows three things: that agreeing to host this raucous house party was a terrible idea, that he absolutely cannot show up to his nursing shift tomorrow with a hangover, and that the beautiful redhead in the corner will be sleeping in his bed tonight.

Ryder, Garrett, Kenzo, and Diesel - The Vipers. Their deals are as sordid as their business, and their reputation is enough to bring a grown man to his knees, forcing him to beg for mercy. They are not people you mess with, yet my dad did. The old man ran up a debt with them and then sold me to cover his losses. Yes, sold me. They own me now. I’m theirs in every sense of the word. But I’ve never been meek and compliant.

Obituary writer Nadine Barbault doesn’t mind being called “Lady Death”. It suits the ice queen persona she’s cultivated to survive the fast-paced Toronto Herald. So when Nadine learns that famous (and reclusive) author Dot Voline has died, she doesn’t hesitate to run the obituary…only to discover that Dot is very much alive. Nadine’s screw-up has brought Wesley Chen of the rival Spear no end of joy—she’s been a thorn in his extremely ambitious side for years. But the renewed interest in Dot also surfaced chatter about a mysterious past scandal.

Hockey coach Ashley Jaswal doesn't take nonsense from anyone … except her overbearing and superstitious family. They believe she's a good luck charm for her brother Jas, the newest Vancouver Canucks draft pick, forcing Ash to attend all his games as he rises up the NHL ranks, sacrificing her personal life (not that she has one—who decided hockey season needed to be 10 months long anyway?). Ash also clashes with Jas’s teammate, Canucks captain Devin Snyder.

Louisa McDavid figures after escaping from the cult she grew up in, the universe owes her a happy ending. Her sisters are all safe, she owns her own business, and she doesn't give a damn what anyone thinks of her. But as a woman in love with love, why has it been so hard for her to find one of the good ones? Everything changes when Ciaran Carter basically steps out of the pages of one of Louisa's beloved smutty books and into her romance-only bookstore. Tall, muscular, handsome, and he likes to read? He's the perfect book boyfriend come to life.

Lennox Kennedy is beautiful, loud, and the love of my life. She's also my ex-girlfriend. The first time I saw her after ten years apart, I slammed into the plexiglass minutes before our game was set to begin. The second time I threw up. The third time's a charm apparently because as my fiancée and I walked into an appointment to meet the woman hired to plan our nuptials—there she was again. Obviously, I did what any smart man would do—I called off the wedding. I don't have a plan per se, other than winning back the only girl I've ever loved.

Charming, captivating, seductive—and a cold-blooded killer. I married the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva anyway. I had to, it was part of the deal. Now, I’m faking marital bliss as I tremble with fear, and I cannot wait to be out of the clutches of this ruthless man.

I sit on a throne of sins. Silent in the shadows, untouchable like the King of the Underworld himself. Few even know the sound of my voice, but those who fear me call me Monster. My men just call me Pakhan. To her, I am Nikolai. Her savior. Her captor. Her lover. With hair as bright as the sun, a face that could sink a thousand ships, and more curves than I can handle, Cassiopeia. Is. Everything. But she’s in danger. And safety comes with a price tag.

One day, I was chugging along at life as a wedding planner. The next, I’m a confidential informant and fake engaged to the grumpiest DEA agent on earth. Hit the brakes. Let’s back up. You know those sappy made-for-TV movies where the leading lady gets the unsuspecting knock on the door and is the beneficiary of a massive inheritance? That’s me. I’m that heroine. My name is Goldie Carter, and inheriting The Pink—one of the most historic and grandest estates in Miami—would be a dream come true for any gal, but especially me.