The Vasiliev name is a powerful one. We rule with an iron fist and we do it well.
Being the eldest, I am Father’s best hope at keeping us at the top of the food chain.
Everything I do has purpose. Everything I do has reason.
I play my games thinking several moves ahead. Power. Power. Power.
Until her. The next move requires I marry and soon. This will strengthen us and secure our position.
But I am not to marry her. I am to wed the eldest Volkov.
Problem is, her younger sister is the one who awakens my dead heart. It is her I want in my bed and by my side forever.
Her. Her. Her.
In this game, though, it’s not about what I want. But maybe it can be about what she wants.
I am Vlad. Vile. Vicious. Villainous. Vasiliev. And I will win eventually.
I’m a man without a conscience.
I deal in murder and mayhem.
I’m the best at what I do.
Frankie Helburn is supposed to be an easy job.
A means to flush her father out of hiding.
Except there isn’t anything simple about Frankie or the secrets she’s keeping.
She’s stubborn as hell and the sexiest god damn thing I have ever seen, sending dark, dirty animalistic desire coursing through my veins.
She’s cocaine with legs. A f*cking addiction that makes me question things I’ve never questioned before. Want things I’ve never wanted before.
I might have her, but she isn’t mine to keep.
If her father doesn’t show his face, she will be mine.
Months after her boyfriend dumped her, Georgia can still hear the insults he hurled at her. Boring. Predictable. Tame. Tired of feeling bad, she’s ready to change her image, and go a little wild. What better way to prove her ex wrong than a hot night of sexual adventure at the secret campus kink club?
In the shadowy den of the kink club, she unexpectedly runs into Logan Mulvaney, her friend’s little brother. A player extraordinaire too hot for his own good, he may be younger, but the guy is light years ahead when it comes to sexual experience. Now he’s telling her to go home—“good girls” don’t belong here!
Georgia is tired of having others define her. She’s going to teach Logan a lesson he won’t forget—one white hot, mind-wrecking kiss . . . that leads to another . . . and another . . . and. . . . Realizing she’s way in over her head, Georgia runs.
Only Logan won’t let her go. Everywhere she goes he’s there, making her want every inch of him. Making her forget who she is. Who he is. And just how wrong they are for each other.
It’s been three years since I set foot in Club Explicit, and three long years since I set eyes on Andy Morgan.
He doesn’t want me here, doesn’t want to know me, doesn’t want to even hear my name.
But I’m back on his doorstep, in his office, in his life… with a suitcase full of dirty bad secrets.
Faye Devere is out to claim her old life back. Three years in Italy have come at a heavy price, and she’s running back to the only anchor she has left: her fifty-fifty share of Club Explicit, and the man she left to pick up her pieces.
But Andy Morgan’s long over it. Long over her.
Club Explicit is his baby now. His club, his rules, his way.
Andy’s not a man who shares easily. And certainly not with the woman who upped and left without so much as a goodbye.
When your battlefield is London’s horniest playground, and sex is the sole weapon left in your arsenal, it’s only a matter of time before the fight gets dirty… and the secrets get dirty bad.
Gemma Taylor was born to be a chatline operator. Her filthy mouth and a filthier imagination make her hot property on sex chat. The hours are great and the money’s even better. She’s onto a good thing; finding her feet in the big smoke of London with a couple of old school friends.
Until he calls.
The rules of chatline are clear: no personal information, no breaches of confidentiality, and absolutely no other forms of communication of any kind.
So why is she giving him her number? Why the hell is she planning on blindfolding herself and leaving her door unlocked for him?
Gemma Taylor’s in deep.
And she’s about to get deeper.
Much, much deeper.
One man stripped of his freedom, his morals…his life.
Conditioned in captivity to maim, to kill and to slaughter, prisoner 818 becomes an unremorseful, unrivaled and unstoppable fighter in the ring. Violence is all he knows. Death and brutality are the masters of his fate.
After years of incarceration in an underground hell, only one thought occupies his mind: revenge…bloody, slow and violent revenge.
Revenge on the man who lied.
Revenge on the man who wronged him.
Revenge on the man who condemned him and turned him into this: a rage-fueled killing machine. A monster void of humanity; a monster filled with hate.
And no one will stand in the way of getting what he wants.
They say Callum Jackson’s a savage.
No home. No prospects. No self-restraint.
He’s red-flagged on my system, a grade-1 aggression risk, totally off limits for a woman like me.
But the rules don’t allow for my dangerous games; they don’t bend for my twisted desires.
Callum Jackson is the most beautiful beast.
A beast I can’t stop thinking about, can’t stop wanting, can’t stop hunting…
…I just pray to God this beast bites.
Sophia Harding runs a tight ship. She may work in the dregs of housing association slums, but her patch is on the way up.
Anti-social behaviour is down, employment is on the rise, and she’s even been shortlisted for estate manager of the year.
It’s looking good. Really good. Until Callum Jackson completes his jail time and lands right back on her doorstep.
She could do without a guy like him on her books: a failure of the system and a pain in the fucking ass.
She should tick the boxes, do her job and keep her distance – that’s what the handbook says. The handbook says no one-on-one contact, no at-risk situations, no direct confrontation of any kind.
But the handbook doesn’t know of her craving for hardcore submission.
The handbook has no fucking idea how she yearns to unleash Jackson at club Explicit, where his savage can really run wild.
The handbook doesn’t know shit…