They say one action doesn’t define you. I killed a man. Stabbed him in the neck and licked the blood off my lips after I did it. Still, one action doesn’t define you. I could have called anyone. My father, the Prez of The Fallen MC, our family lawyer, my best friend, Lila, or my brother, King. I didn’t. Instead, I called Lionel Danner, the police officer renowned for taking down the Nightstalkers MC.

The Irish enforcer for The Fallen Men MC is everything good girls are taught to stay away from. Only, I found myself inexorably drawn into his dark gravitational pull. I wanted to know what it would be like to walk beside the human personification of Death and hold his hand, feel his kiss, and maybe even earn his undying love. But Priest McKenna is older, cold as ice, and notoriously unfeeling. 

I was a goner as girl to a man they called Casanova for a reason. He would never love me, at least not the way I needed him to. I tried to move on. But I couldn’t turn my back on him or The Fallen MC. So when they needed me most, I offered the only thing of value I could use to help them. My body. And when helping them meant putting my life on the line, Nova had to decide just how much he was willing to do to get me out alive.  

He was 18. The heir to a notorious, criminal MC. And my student. There was no way I could get involved. No way I could stay involved. Then, no way I could get out alive. 

I was settin’ up to live a good life, the kinda life I’d fought hard to deserve. With a good woman - the best woman - at my side, a degree under my belt, and the whole world at my feet, I was livin’ the kinda happily ever after usually denied the rebellious and the criminal. I’d turned my back on that kinda life, thinkin’ I needed that clean, wholesome kinda happy. Then the devil came dressed in the wings of an angel and took someone from me. And I realized I was wrong. There was no clean and wholesome for a man like me with poetry in his heart and outlaw in his blood.

The devil has blue eyes, an Irish accent, and a hatred for me that runs deep. He blames me for starting a war. Consorting with his enemies. Getting his men killed. Though I’m innocent on all charges, he wants his pound of flesh. With an eye on revenge, he makes me his captive. But as we’ll both soon discover, there are more powerful urges than that for revenge.

I kissed my father’s best friend, and it kind of didn’t go well. Not only because he’s 18 years older than me - but he also didn’t like it. Not one bit. In my defense, I didn’t mean to fall for him. It just happened. Nathaniel Weaver is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen with enough charisma to blind the sun. He’s bigger than the world, owns half of it, and conquered the other half. He was forbidden. Wrong. So I totally got over him. Or so I told myself. Until we’re forced to get married.

I wasn’t supposed to be on that roof on Valentine’s Day. Neither was Kellan Marchetti, the school’s designated freak. We met on the verge of ending our lives. Somehow, the tattered strings of our tragedies tangled and tightened into an unlikely bond. We decided not to take the plunge and agreed to check on each other every Valentine’s Day until school ended. Same time. One roof. Two restless souls. We kept our promise for three years.

My Devil: He came into my life like a raging storm. The man I despised. The killer with no conscience. I fell as hard as a woman like me can fall. When he bleeds, I feel his pain. When we kiss, I taste his tragedy. When he kills, my heart is stained with all the colors of his vengeance. Now, we're standing on the threshold of hell, and everyone around us is burning. We have no choice but to finish this war.... Together.

Vegas is where good people go to sin. Reno is where the bad ones go. Amid the drugs, weapons, and trafficking, a murder-for-hire market has emerged. And my motorcycle club is right in the thick of it. If you can pay, we have a million different ways to solve your problem. You want someone to vanish without a trace? The Great Basin Desert is almost 200,000 square miles of “nobody will ever find you”. You want to make a statement? We’ve been known to hang bodies from the Reno Arch.

Teague Hollingsworth crashed into my perfectly predictable life like a rocket, turning everything upside down and setting it ablaze. It was the world’s worst first impression, and one I’m not likely to forget...Until he shows up just when I need him. It turns out he’s not at all the man I thought he was. He’s kind to my dogs. He’s protective of me. And he doesn't seem to mind the chaos. Slowly, he's winning my trust...and maybe my heart. But there's more to this man than I could’ve imagined. Shadows and secrets that threaten what I love the most.

They call him the Sick Heart. They say he's a shameless monster. They say he's a ruthless killer. They say he's as twisted as the man who owns him. They say a lot of things about Cort van Breda. But in our world violence is money, and money is winning, and winning is life, and life is the only thing that matters. Except...he wasn't meant to win that last fight. And I wasn't meant to be his prize. But he did. And I am. And now his sick heart owns me.

Trust. Loyalty. Family. The tangled web of mafia life. We grew up together. Me, Eden, my brother Tristian. He was always the safe bet, the sure thing, the good guy. And me? Well, I was the Casanova, the killer who flirted with anyone and anything, breaking Eden’s heart again and again. We both loved her. Mind. Body. Soul. Until I gifted her to my brother as if she meant nothing, when she meant everything to me. Tristian was safer. Better. Could give her the life I never would be able to. But things changed. We changed. 

Seven months ago, Ollie surrendered to the darkness, abandoning me in the process. He stripped me of my walls, only to leave me defenseless. Now he's back, along with fresh new faces and obstacles standing in our way. He says to trust no one. Not even him. How am I supposed to be strong for us both when I'm losing my grip?

All I knew about life was anger and violence. Pain and suffering. Kill or be killed. I was a “fixer” for the Ruin - a syndicate for the Bratva, Cosa Nostra, Cartel, and any other organized crime faction that dealt in the darker, crueler aspects of humanity. I was a free agent who was called upon to do things weaker men didn’t have the stomach for. And when you surround yourself with death for long enough, soon you don’t remember what it felt like to be alive. And then I saw her.