I've spent years hidden away to protect my father from the shame of having a defective daughter. The head of the Bratva can't be associated with weakness—and to him, that's all I am. That is until a marriage alliance gives him the opportunity to finally be rid of me. As I head down the aisle towards my mysterious husband, I hope I'm moving towards love and freedom. But Matteo makes it clear he wants nothing to do with me. I wish I could return his coldness, but the dangerous Don sets my body ablaze whenever he's near.

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 shouldn't have remembered him. He was just a guy who walked through a restaurant. I didn't know his name. We never made eye contact. There was no connection between us at all. But I could feel him. The tingle down my spine. The command in his presence. The snap of tension in the air around him. That was the first time I saw him, and I was captivated.

It started out like any other morning on the train - until I became mesmerized by the guy sitting across the aisle. He was barking at someone on his phone like he ruled the world. Who did the stuck-up suit think he was...God? Actually, he looked like a god. That was about it.

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 was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own.

I entered an arranged marriage so my sister, Ciara, could marry for love. Three years later, I'm a widow, and my father arranges for Ciara to marry Dominik Varga. The assassin slash arms dealer is as dangerous as he's quiet, which is very unnerving. Needless to say, I'm not happy at all. A deal was a deal, and I kept my end of it, so there's no way on God's green earth I'll just sit back and smile like a good little girl. I'll fight for Ciara's freedom so she won't have to face the hell I was forced to endure. But Dominik doesn't make things easy for me.

I was issued a warning: stay away from Ben Rosenberg. As Clifton Cove's resident "king", he thinks he's entitled to anyone and anything. The trouble is, I've spent my whole life following the rules and playing it safe. I know what it feels like to be the good girl. I'm the police chief's daughter and a librarian - for adorable children, no less. An all-nighter with a fictional hunk is about as exciting as my life gets until one day, fate decides to take pity on me and shove me straight into the path of Mr. Off-Limits himself.

When Cora attends her sister's birthday party, she expects at most a hangover or a walk of shame. She doesn't anticipate a stolen wallet, leaving her stranded and dependent on Dean—her arch nemesis and ultimate thorn in her side. And she really doesn't anticipate waking up in shackles in a madman's basement. To make matters worse, Dean shares the space in his own set of chains. After fifteen years of teasing, insults, and practical jokes, the ultimate joke seems to be on them. The two people who always thought they'd end up killing each other must now work together if they want to survive.

I knew something was wrong the second she walked in the door tonight; I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. Same hair color. Same legs. Same face. Except...I look harder. At the small dimple beneath her lip that wasn't there the last time we went out. And her laugh - that laugh isn't as loud. This isn't the girl I've gone out with the past few weeks. It's her twin sister, and they've switched places on me.