Everyone thinks I’m a good daughter. For eighteen years, I’ve played the part, swallowed my anger, and kept silent. My parents believe I’m crazy enough to marry that madman, Divo Talerico. They’re mistaken.
Behind the scenes, I’ve made plans, saved every penny, and prayed everything will fall into place. The night before my wedding, I make my escape and finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Then he appears. My father’s greatest rival, the wolf of Manhattan, Enzo Lupo, comes out of the shadows and kidnaps me.
He says he loves me but keeps me a captive in his gilded cage. He’s beautiful, ruthless and his kisses make me feel things I’ve never felt before. But I won’t run from one prison into another. I’ll bide my time, make him trust me, and run again.
No cage can hold me.
Enzo
Manhattan is mine. In this city’s underworld, everyone kneels to me. I’ve worked hard to build my reputation with bullets and blood, and yet, it’s never enough. Everywhere I look, people want to take what’s mine. I’ve devoted my life to building what my father started and keeping the power we’ve rightfully won. I spend so much time protecting my territory, I’ve given up the things we Sicilians cherish most, family.
My life is too dangerous to drag a good woman into my world, and I vowed long ago I wouldn’t show weakness to anyone.
Or so I thought.
No one is more off-limits than Gala Lombardo. She’s too young and meant for another man. But I can’t help myself. Those big blue eyes, sharp curves, and full cherry lips were placed in this world for me, and I’ll be damned if I let another man take what belongs to me.
In a moment of love and lunacy, I steal her away in the night and trigger a war that could ruin me for good. Bring it on. I’ll destroy my enemies and make Gala the Queen of Manhattan. With her by my side, I’ll rule the world.
She humiliated my kid brother, and that’s not allowed. Doesn’t matter that she’s just a college girl, or that half the time he’s such a little punk he probably deserved it. He is an Aslanov, as am I. This city, and everything of value within it, belongs to our family. To me.
I am Marat Antonovich Aslanov, firstborn of Anton Aslanov. Nothing has ever mattered more than showing the world I am even stronger than the man who fathered me and twice as ruthless in protecting what is ours. At least, that was what matters before Sage Peterson.
Finding her is easy. Taking her is simple. Allowing her to leave isn’t going to happen.
Sofia Romano has just been flown to Las Vegas via her father’s orders. She protested and demanded to stay in New York City; however, as always, her father won. Now, she’s stuck living with her grimy, sleazeball of an uncle– Uncle Tino. The man she despises most but just like everything else in her life, she doesn’t have a say in the world.
Antonio Berlusconi owns Las Vegas. There isn’t a single thing that happens in his city that he doesn’t know about. That’s how he knows the rat, Tino Romano just had a special delivery. A niece. And she’s the perfect leverage to use against Tino by kidnapping her and making Tino sign over his rights to the biggest casino in Vegas. Simple enough. Right?
Just one problem, what do you do when the leverage is a green-eyed spitfire, who you crave like there’s no tomorrow and couldn’t harm a hair on her head even if you tried? You make her yours at any and all cost.
I took her because I had to have her. After meeting her by chance, I followed her until I could take her. It may have been wrong but I don’t care. She’s mine and she’ll love me, or else. When someone tries to take her away from me, I’ll burn the world down to get her back.
Lorielle Benefiel
I don’t know where I am, but I know this isn’t going to be good. I can hear things, things that scare me but I refuse to show my fear. Then he shows himself to me and I can’t help what I feel in my heart and between my thighs. I didn’t expect to fall for my captor but I did. Some say it’s Stockholm Syndrome, but they don’t know us. Then it happens again, I must be a magnet or something, but I know Sean will find me no matter what.
Captivated by their captives, these made men only answer to the women they love.
Dangerous bad boys, thrilling suspense, and passion worth dying for.
These possessive men will break all the rules to claim the women who have stolen their hearts.
If you love boundary-pushing men who are sexy, scintillating, and seriously dangerous, this is the series for you.
Pitted against one another, with the people and country they love in jeopardy, the daughter of a deserter and the son of the king have a chance to fulfill their forebears’ legacy—or destroy it entirely.
Twisted monsters called saja lurk in the shadows of the mountains. Rumors say the Fidelis, human wielders of an ancient elemental magic, again walk the plains. Not all in Avaron believe, and not all welcome the return of legend.
Kura’s a skeptic. But, she’ll cross and befriend centaurs, talking animals, and worse to save her family after the rebellion mistakes her for the land’s prophesied savior. And, while he’d rather negotiate with rebels than fight them, Triston can’t ignore prophecy. That was the sham his father used to steal the crown in the first place.
Over a century ago, their ancestors sailed the oceans in search of peace and died as heroes fighting for it. But heroes—and villains—aren’t always what they seem to be.
Inspired by Brandon Sanderson’s grounded characters and JRR Tolkien’s sense of wonder, Fire of the Forebears is a fantasy for fans who think a dual perspective adventure about the fate of one nation might still be pretty epic.
The sunrise cast a sickly yellow glow over the city, bringing light to a scene of carnage better left in darkness. Triston stood in the center, droplets of rain cascading down his cloak, and grimaced as he surveyed the billowing tendrils of smoke and steam that emanated from the charred clearing. It was a bitter dawn—one he’d been dreading.
Twelve. There were twelve men unaccounted for after the last night’s battle.
So far they’d found seven, all of whom had died within the city after it’d been breached. Now, with the first of the morning light, Triston picked his way east of Tarr Fianin’s walls—or, more accurately, what remained of the walls. Several townsfolk were already attempting to replace the damaged logs, and they sent embittered glances in Triston’s direction. At the moment, he didn’t care.
Carcasses, stiff from death’s embrace, littered the clearing. A few were men—far fewer than Triston had first believed. During the battle he’d been unable to tell, but now he saw plainly the faces of his enemies: they were monsters, beasts that walked like men but wore the faces of animals. Perhaps this was clearest in death, their features twisted into unnerving snarls, their fur splattered in blood and matted by the rain.
He hadn’t believed it before, but he knew it now: the Wynshire was a dangerous place, and they never should have come.
Among the drab garb of the dead there shone a patch of bright red—a soldier’s cloak, the color undampened by the rain. Triston crossed the field to kneel at the dead man’s side. It was Mory, face pale, lifeless eyes staring up at the sunrise. Triston carefully pulled the man’s wet cloak over his body.
“Triston.” Seren’s voice broke the stillness. He maneuvered around the debris like a mother crossing a cluttered playroom to tell her child to pick up his toys. “I thought I would find you here.”
The anger that had been brewing in Triston’s chest threatened to boil over, and he clenched his teeth as he rose to his feet. He didn’t want a conversation, not now and not from him.
“Come on,” Seren said gently. “You can let the captains do this.”
Triston closed his fist around the sword hilt at his side. Of course Seren would say that; a strategist delegated the burden while a military man shouldered it. “How do you explain these?” He motioned toward one of the dead creatures as he looked Seren in the eye. “Is it saja? Not seen in Avaron for generations?”
“They’re not saja.” Seren’s apparent confidence set Triston’s teeth on edge. “They’re dangerous, though. And worse yet multiply in Lovaria even as we—”
“Stop. Just… stop.” Triston shook his head, and he couldn’t help but stare at the red cloak covering Mory’s body by his feet.
“It’s not your fault.”
Triston laughed bitterly. “Not my fault? What did I tell you yesterday? I said these towns were unpredictable. I said we needed more men.”
“And you were right.” Seren’s tone was somewhere between consoling and placating. “I should have listened. But I still outrank you: the siege was my decision.”
“But it was the wrong decision, and I knew it. I shouldn’t have let my men follow you.”
Seren’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean to suggest?”
Triston sighed. Did I really just say that? He ran his fingers through his wet hair. Yes, he’d said it. And he didn’t want to take it back. “I don’t know what I mean.”
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.
I was only three the first time I lost someone I loved. And I was thirteen when my world shattered beyond repair. Thrown into a nightmare—desperately trying to pick up the broken pieces of the girl I was before.
Escaping the demons of my past, I’m ready to disappear for good. But before I go, I want one
more glimpse of the man who unknowingly gave me the strength to live.
Except the pain I see hidden behind his cold eyes pulls me in so far I can’t leave.
I can’t stop watching—waiting for the obsession that binds me to him to be severed.
Until I get caught.
Sebastian Reed doesn’t know who I am.
But when he finds out I hold the answer to the question that’s been slowly destroying him, he
will do anything to get at the truth.
Even making a deal.
Except I didn’t expect him to keep me in his penthouse until he gets what he’s owed.
Sebastian has the power to cut me deeper than any of the scars marring my body.
But the more time we spend together, the deeper desire burns between us, and the harder it is to remember why I have to leave.
What should have been my downfall might be the only thing that can save me.
My chest aches, the pain leaking through the cracks that have already formed around my heart. I don’t know why she affects me so much or why I can see her dark blue eyes so clearly when mine are shut. Regardless of how long I’ve known her, I shouldn’t feel like this.
Shadow stands a few steps away, staring off at something. I follow his line of sight, but there’s nothing there. He looks at me again, then focuses back on the empty space with only the large windows and closed balcony door separating us from the cold night.
My gaze lingers on the sliding door, and that sensation of being pulled towards something, someone, reignites inside me. I glance at Shadow again and start to move towards the door. My steps are slow and measured, belying the pounding of my heart and the whiskey flowing through my veins. I stop in front of the glass door but make no move to open it while I strain my eyes through the darkness, lit dimly by the lights of the surrounding city.
There.
A small figure is curled up on one of the chairs, a blanket wrapped around their body. Grace’s head is titled back to the midnight sky. I can’t tell if her eyes are open, but I imagine they are.
It’s not a full moon tonight, but as the clouds shift, allowing it to shine brighter, my focus is torn. It’s been so long since I allowed myself to sit under the glow, letting my worries cower under her light.
There was a time, in the cold and dark when my only guardian was the moon in the sky. Without her, I’m sure the shadows would have consumed me long ago.
Grace tilts her head towards the opening in the clouds, and the shift allows the glow to illuminate part of her face. I suck in a breath at the raw emotion in her expression. She looks so young and lost.
This is what I wanted. To see underneath. Except now, I feel like an intruder—someone not worthy of something so significant, but I can’t make myself leave.
I raise my palm to the cool glass, but even though every fibre of my being wants to open this door and pull her into my arms, I don’t.
I can’t.
She opened up to me, and I took advantage. I took what I wanted, then left her there because I couldn’t deal with my own messed-up head. But as the moon shines down on her, revealing her bare truths, I consider that maybe now the night sky isn’t the only place I can find light in the darkness.
