Five years ago, I bled to death from a knife to the throat. But I didn't stay dead. I woke up changed, and remembered far too much. I have been haunted by the memories of my past lives ever since. For five years, I've had the illogical certainty that I've spent lifetimes connected to the same soul. Lifetimes of love, heartache, and betrayal. Was I destined to find them again? As fate would have it while seeking revenge for my death, my murderer led me straight to her: Sunny.

Every four years, the criminal underworld engages in a game. The Game. The challenges range from the impossible to the deadly to the truly insane. Things that only a crazy person would tackle. I’ve won the game five times. This time will be no different. I’m at the top of my field now, the best of the world’s thieves. There’s nothing I can’t steal, and this time, the game is all about theft, subterfuge, and sleight of hand. Starting with a legendary painting of poppy flowers.

When Connor Finch insists his one-time Tinder match Shae comes to his dad's house for Thanksgiving with her two daughters, it's because he refuses to let them be alone on her first holiday post-divorce. When she arrives at the Christmas tree farm and ranch he grew up on, she meets his father—the crazy tall, built, golden retriever cowboy who tells her girls all about the magic of the stupid elf on a shelf.

To most, Kal Anderson is a villain. Harbinger of death, keeper of souls, frequenter of nightmares. Doctor Death. Hades incarnate. They say he stole me. Usurped my fiancé and filled the cracks in my heart with empty promises. Imprinted his crimson fingerprints on my psyche and tried to set me free. They’re not wrong, per se. Except it was my choice to stay.

Being in the Guild is our life…or death. Not everyone is created equal, and not everyone is truly cut out for the work we do. It’s not pretty, it’s not glamorous, and it’s sure as shit not moral or good. The weight of the sins we carry can become too much for some, and they crack. When they do, they become a threat. No one quits the Guild. Not really. Either they cut a deal to make themselves useful in another capacity, or they get eliminated. But who, you might ask, can kill a killer? Who scares the boogeyman into running and hiding? Men like me.

Five years ago, I masterminded the infamous massacre of the Tri-state Timberwolves. The streets outside the Wolves HQ ran red with the blood of the old guard, and not one of those members loyal to my father were spared mercy. Not a single one. I let the media twist and distort the story. My new recruits eagerly proved themselves in spreading false news, in covering our tracks. To the general public, the Tri-State Timberwolves were extinct. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

I had a foolproof plan. Finish college playing the best sport on earth. Hockey. Get drafted by an NHL team. Make my senator father at least a little proud of me. I was on track to do just that…until Violet Reece and I collided. Literally.

In the dark underbelly of the mob, Tristan Caine has been an anomaly. As the only non-blooded member in the high circle of the Tenebrae Outfit, he is an enigma to all. His skills are unparalleled, his morality is questionable, and his motives are unknown. He is lethal and he knows it. As does Morana Vitalio, the genius extraordinaire daughter of the rival family. What Caine does with weapons, Morana does with computers. When a twenty-year-old mystery resurfaces, Morana infiltrates Caine's house, intent on killing him, unaware of a tie that binds them together.

Carter Beckett is the NHL’s resident bad boy, top player both on the ice and in the bedroom, and quite possibly the sexiest man to ever grace my field of vision. But worst of all? He knows it. He’s arrogant, self-centered, and the man doesn’t seem to know what a filter is, let alone how to use one. He’s had everything served to him on a silver platter, including endless strings of women, and apparently, I’m up next. I have the solution to all my sexual frustrations in a drawer at home, and it’s far less complicated than Carter Beckett.

Yes, I’m a single dad who needs a nanny for the summer. But hiring the stranded runaway bride who shows up on my doorstep in a wedding gown with no references, no skills, and no experience? No one is that desperate.

Meet Randi Burnett—she’s brilliant, she’s beautiful, and she works for the bride. Missing groom? Intoxicated in-laws? Crying ring-bearer? You name it, she wrangles it. Too bad her personal life isn’t thriving like her side gig as a bridesmaid for hire. Recently dumped, Randi throws herself into her biggest challenge yet when she’s hired as a maid of honor and pretend best friend for an ice queen bride. There’s just one problem—the best man is infuriating, overprotective, and anti-marriage.

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.

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.

Beckett: If you’re reading this, well, you know the last-letter drill. You made it. I didn’t. Get off the guilt train, because I know if there was any chance you could have saved me, you would have. I need one thing from you: get out of the army and get to Telluride. My little sister Ella’s raising the twins alone. She’s too independent and won’t accept help easily, but she has lost our grandmother, our parents, and now me. It’s too much for anyone to endure. And here’s the kicker: there’s something else you don’t know that’s tearing her family apart.

I'm addicted to my stalker. He watches me at night, sneaking in through my living room window and making my blood turn to ice. I feel him all around me as chills snake down my spine. Each night he becomes bolder, getting closer and welcoming himself into my bedroom, feeding his addiction.