Gwen Alexandra does not need a man in her life. Especially not a man who looks like Chris Hemsworth and Joe Manganiello's love child. One wearing leather, riding a Harley, and covered in tattoos. Gwen can bet every pair of her Manolo's that Cade Fletcher is trouble. From the moment she meets him, the attraction sizzles between them. Gwen has a problem when it comes to attractive men in motorcycle clubs. The last one she got involved with almost killed her. After healing physically, Gwen decides to get a new start in a small town, half a country away from the man who nearly cost her her life. She isn't in town five minutes when she runs into Cade, a man that is too sexy and dangerous for his own good. She tries to keep away from him, to ignore the attraction between them. But the biker has other ideas, soon she is in way over her head, and her heart, and her life are in danger once again.

Should I tell you a story? Not a fairytale, mind you. There's not a princess to be seen. Nor a prince. Not even a hero. This is about the stripper and the outlaw. Our story begins with the Sons of Templar MC, with a man even the outlaws fear. He was trouble. More than trouble. A scoundrel. A sinner. A villain. To everyone but me. Our story begins with blood, violence and pain. I have a feeling it will end that way too. But it's too late for escape. I've fallen for the scoundrel. The sinner. The outlaw.

Living a life in darkness causes the soul to char to ash. Battling demons by turning himself into a monster is the only way he can survive...the only way he can keep a grip on sanity. That grip is precarious at best, every day is a silent battle with demons that threaten to yank him into the truest form of darkness, the abyss he'll never escape. Then it happens. Light shines through the cracks. Happiness. Mia Spencer's life is full of it. She has an amazing new job, friends, family, and the light of her life - her daughter Lexie. Running from the demons of the past, escaping a hell that she vowed Lexie would never know about, she worked through hardship and near poverty to create something she was proud of. Buried deep inside, underneath the swell of love she had for her only daughter, were the fractured pieces of her. Pieces that were smashed and battered when she was young and vulnerable. Then she meets Bull, who seems to hate her on sight. He screams danger, from his huge physique, to his beautiful ink, to the motorcycle club he belongs to. He is silent, his glares threaten to burn her into flames, yet she finds herself falling for him. Finds this broken man slowly fixing the pieces she thought would stay shattered forever.

"Charming . . . Fred’s adventure gently encourages children to imagine and be curious about the wider world around them." — Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books Fred is a city fox, but the city can be a scary place. It’s noisy, it’s smoky, and it’s often dangerous. One day, Fred sees a flock of birds flying over the rooftops. Where do they go? he wonders. When a bird tells him about the place called the wild, he decides to go in search of it. Will he find the wild? And what will happen if he does?

I may be the villain of the story, but at least I get a leading role. Evil is a term thrown around history and literature as if it's something so easily definable. A concept to fight against. Evil doesn’t exist. Neither does ‘good.’ Vampires do, though. I just happen to be one. I’ve cruised through the centuries managing to avoid all the wars, supernatural and human, but still going to all the best parties. I would say I avoided bloodshed, but it’s kind of part of the whole ‘vampire’ thing. I’ve lived on the fringes of a society that considered cruelty and sadism favorable character traits for almost five hundred years. Now I'm in the middle of a war that might just put my nonbeating heart in a lot of danger. Battles, I can handle. The impossible attraction between me and the vampire slayer, not to mention the penetrating gaze of the king of our race, on the other hand? I might not get out undead.

Souls are interesting things. Not something you can prove you possess. Not something that can be measured, like a heartbeat. But something that can be destroyed by the absence of a heartbeat. No, you cannot prove you possess a soul. But once that soul dies, there doesn't need to be proof that you don't have one. Once that blackened pit opens inside you, the world can see it. The world cowers from it. Gage knew this because his soul was long gone. He was glad to be rid of it. He was filled with depraved satisfaction that he could make the world cower from him. That he could burn the world to the ground and he didn't have anything-like a soul or a conscience-to stop him. Until her. The woman who proved to him that she had a soul. That he might have something left of his. The woman who tricked the world, blinded it to the truth. Hid expertly what was broken and ruined inside her. Though he was about to prove that there was nothing more broken than him. No one more broken. He'd prove that by destroying them both.

Words are my weapon. Stories wrap around my soul, choking me, capturing you. I don't work in dreams. I don't offer escapes. I cage you within my nightmares. Magnolia Grace is a horror writer, despite what the name might suggest. One of the best in the business, if you asked around. Pressure comes with that title. Expectation for the next nightmare. The next bestseller. Sickness. That's what it is. She can't be healthy. Because that means she won't write. And she hasn't been writing. A looming deadline and a crumbling psyche drive her into the woods. To a cabin which was the site of a grizzly murder. A serial killer, butchering women, toying with her. Her plan is to borrow some of the horror that seeped into the soil. But hers follows her. The woods are meant to be her escape. But they are almost her demise. Almost. He was an unlikely saviour. An unexpected muse. He has horrors of his own. A motorcycle club looking to settle a score. A soul too broken to offer her anything but pain.

My name's Rosie and I come from a dynasty of sorts... the Sons of Templar, maybe you've heard of them. I just happen to be the daughter of one of the founding members and am the sister of the current president. The fact I'm a woman means I don't wear the patch, but it'll never change the fact that I'm a Templar by blood. We're known as royalty in the outlaw world. Though, the dynasty is dancing on the right side of the law these days. That doesn't mean that the law and those who enforce it are friends. It will remain the one constant in my tumultuous life. The one rule in our law-free existence. Befriending the law and those that enforce it is a betrayal. Which means me being one half of a doomed love is that much more comical when he's a cop. Or was. Before I went and ruined it all. Before he shattered that shield he wore to protect society in order to protect me. He saved me and I damned him. I damned myself too, but to be honest, I was damned long before that.

They were taken. Off the street. From parking lots. Malls. Playgrounds. Snatched from life and thrust into hell. They took Orion Darby on a perfect summer day, while she could still taste her first kiss on her lips. She joined the others with chains on their ankles and scars on their souls. They turned into nothing more than statistics. Cold cases. Lost girls. Years passed and the world forgot. Until the day they escaped. This is not about their captivity. This is about their struggle to return to a life that's passed them by. This was the real world. But for Orion, this was hell. You see... freedom isn't enough. She needs blood.

The Sons of Templar MC.I'm sure you've heard of them.They're infamous.Murderers.Criminals.Outlaws.But to me, they're family.My husband wore the cut for well over a decade. For almost as long as he wore a wedding ring. Our marriage survived wars. Deaths. Blood. The cuts were deep. And they never healed quite right. But we survived.Until we didn't.He promised me forever. And he gave it to me. His version of it, at least. Mine was longer, though. Much longer.I wanted to blame the Sons for killing my husband, wanted to hate the club. The cut. But that was impossible. Especially when I found myself falling in love with another man wearing the same cut.Just when I thought there was nothing left in me to wound, he cut me the deepest.