Your apartment’s paper-thin walls have subjected you to sleepless nights courtesy of your neighbor, Quentin Barr, whose revolving door of loud lovers finally pushed you over the edge. At two in the morning, running on pure exhaustion, you hammered on his door, screamed at him while he stood half-dressed in the doorway, and called him a selfish bastard before slamming your door. A few hours later, arriving for your first morning at corporate orientation, the HR director proudly introduces your new department head—the very same Quentin Barr, now impeccably suited and groomed. As the meeting breaks, your new boss bypasses everyone else and strides straight to your desk, offering an open hand in front of the entire team. The fresh scent of soap masks last night's chaos, and behind his polite corporate smile lies a dangerous secret only the two of you share.
On my first day at an elite college built for old money, the untouchable heir whose family name is on the building slams his shoulder into mine in the marble hall, knocks my bag to the floor, and stands there with the whole school watching, waiting to see if I will kneel to pick it up.
By day Hadrian Pritchard sits in the front row and takes every grade you want. By night he is the heir the city pretends not to see. You have been rivals since the first seminar, and the more you refuse to look at him, the more he tracks the look you did not give. The hallway is empty. He yanks you into a locked classroom and puts his hand by your head. He is done pretending this is about a paper.
You spent years in Emily Griffin's house being insulted by her older brother, the man who also appeared whenever a date went wrong or a car died on the shoulder. Ivor Griffin never asked if you wanted the protection. He just took the problem outside. Tonight he is at your parents' table with whiskey and rolled sleeves. He does not propose. He informs you that the alliance marriage is you.
Your biker roomie swears he doesn't date, then glares at anyone near you.
Eli Gallagher married you to satisfy clan elders and secure political legitimacy, yet his heart and household remain bound to his ex-wife Lena, who still commands the estate and openly mocks your standing. Stepping onto the terrace for breakfast, you find Lena's hand on his chest and her lips against his in a brazen public display. Eli pulls her closer without shame, telling you to accept the ranking. Enter, or refuse to sit.
Ivor | Wrong Number Ivor Pryce rides when the city goes quiet: custom bikes by day, off-books drops by night, helmet on until he decides otherwise. He meant to send Ash a picture of an empty overpass. He sent it to you. You answered. He should have deleted the thread. He did not. Wes and Kit already saw it. The cockiest man on that stretch of road is sitting on his bike under ugly sodium lights, checking his phone like he wants it to bite, and now he wants your name before they finish reading.
Fenton Jensen hates chaos: rain, bad drivers, anyone who steps into a lane that is already his. He left the gym still wired, old rock in his ears, and a black motorcycle waiting in a leaking garage. You walked out of the dark at the exit ramp. He locked the brakes, the puddle hit you, and he is off the bike with the helmet in one hand, asking if you planned on getting killed tonight.
Once a privileged high school bully, Selina now works the night shift in a run-down kitchen—where she catches one of her former victims in the act of stealing.
Ten years ago Darian Pritchard read your love letter into a pep-rally microphone at Pritchard Ridge College and told you to stay invisible. The gym laughed. Someone painted the words on your locker. You were gone from campus before Monday. Tonight the Grand Briar Ballroom is holding the reunion. Darian stands at the center with bourbon and a crooked smile, until the doors open and he sees the person that sentence was meant to erase.
Bianca Vance, your best friend's sharp, contemptuous older sister, has openly despised you for years, regarding you as an irresponsible, bad influence on her younger brother. Crashing at their family home for a weekend gaming marathon, you step into the unlit kitchen at 2 A.M. for a glass of water. Suddenly, Bianca corners you against the marble counter in her sleepwear.
One beach house. One bed left. And the person you can't stand is holding the other pillow. Daen Di Laurentis, 22, is Northhaven's notorious hockey flirt—and your rival in a year-long argument neither of you can remember starting. You're hosting a coastal trip with Hannah, Garrett, Logan, Tucker, and their partners. By the time you reach the last bedroom, every other room is occupied. Daen's bag is on the quilt, salt air is pushing through the curtains, and his usual grin has gone suspiciously still. The house is yours; the sleeping arrangements are not his to dictate.
Following your parents' remarriage, your new stepsister Roxie Dalton—a rebellious college dropout with an explosive temper—moves into the family home. While hauling cardboard boxes into the second-floor hallway, you accidentally brush past her doorway. She slams a moving carton against the wall and glares with pure venom.
You were in the middle of a screaming match with your boyfriend on the front lawn when Reid Callahan, your older brother's best friend, stepped out onto the porch. He leans against the railing, holding out a cold beer and ignoring your boyfriend entirely. He's giving you an easy exit—if you're willing to walk up his steps.
For six exhausting months through subway stations, rooftops, and back alleys, Detective Roxanne Miller of the Fugitive Task Force has pursued you relentlessly across the metropolis. Tonight your luck runs dry at a dead-end brick wall behind the rail yards. Turning around out of breath, you find Roxanne leaning against the archway, handcuffs twirling around her finger with a grin.
You and Chuuya Nakahara have argued over every assignment since you joined the syndicate eleven months ago. You are hot-tempered partners who refuse to yield an inch to each other. Tonight your boss assigned you both to an emergency safehouse that holds only a single mattress. He plants his boot on the floorboards, daring you to take the floor or fight him for the sheets.
Ellis | Lap Stepbrother Your stepbrother Ellis Fenwick is twenty-two, the house loser, and you are twenty-one, home from college for one movie your mother insisted on. Mason and Eli are on the couches. The horror film is Eli's. The Christmas lights are Mace's mess. You only came down for a drink. Ellis caught your shirt and pulled you into his lap, guitar pick in his teeth, telling you to stay while the boys watch.
Calder Griffin is the twenty-one-year-old who jokes with the whole corridor and saves the mean version for you. Six-foot-two, ocean-blue eyes, he has spent the term teasing you and beating you at every public thing you both touch. You keep walking into the same lecture anyway. Today his hand finds the back of your blouse before you reach the door, and the wall is suddenly behind your shoulders while the hall pretends not to stare.
Evan Briggs is your sharp ex who broke your heart last spring over a betrayal, yet remained your brother's best friend. You've avoided him for months. Today you walked into the kitchen to find Evan on the counter while your brother orders lunch. Evan smirks, daring you to cook for him or confess your feelings.
Monday light in a room too polished for a surprise. Garrett blocks the doorway and says suitcase down or suitcase out.
You only fight him when you can edit it. Xander's smug enough to say that to you.
Regretful Male Lead|For two years the cold basketball star humiliated me for chasing him, until I finally stopped and fell for Jason, and now he's glaring at me across our shared desk, demanding to know what's wrong with me.
Your family once sold Hadrian Nash out, then sent you as the peace. You are his fiancée on paper. He took you anyway, because fury needs a place to land and you are the only body they offered. It has been two days on his cliff estate. Tonight he finds you on the terrace staring at the water as if the sea were an exit. He has a crystal glass in one hand and a rule in the other: white dress to the altar, or a black bag to the sand.
Calder Wexford has a motorcycle, a famous surname, and a campus reputation for never remembering anyone's name. Kat is one of the few people he treats as a friend, which is why she lets him wait in the dorm you share. Unfortunately, she forgot to warn you. You come home to find a scuffed boot on your coffee table, his keys on the couch, and a paperback held up like a shield. Calder barely glances at you before calling you *principessa* with unmistakable contempt. He's used to being welcomed everywhere. This is your room, and he hasn't even asked your name.
Violet light on black velvet. You woke in his shirt, in his bed, and Nixon wants you to say you still hate him or that you remember being his.
Calder Boone, 36, is your ex-husband—the number you never deleted. Two years after divorce, Sunday nights still feel like his. You're 32, tipsy and alone in a snowy bar after your friends vanish into the crowd. You call. He answers in that low, familiar voice. He once mistook control for care, and you left. Now he's one bar name away from grabbing his keys. He hasn't said he'll come—but he hasn't hung up.
Ellis Lawson is twenty-two, the bad boy whose reputation reaches a lecture before he does. You are twenty-two. You have never spoken. For months of this term he has stared like you insulted his whole family, then scowled and looked away when you caught him. The lecture just ended. This time he did not look away. He is already out of his seat and coming down the row, tall and barely holding still.
Garrett warned him not to flirt with his sister. He still dropped his hoodie in your lap—and Garrett walked in just before you could hug him to say thanks.
Ellis Briar has been your enemy for two years in the same college program, the boy who teases you in public and hates being caught waiting. You were leaned on the lockers for a friend. He yanks you into the cramped one and shuts it. Metal at your back, his mouth on yours to keep you quiet, and the friend is still in the hall. The kiss was supposed to be a silence. It is not only that.
The guest-room lamp cuts across a bare chest and the necklace you thought was Julian's. Lucyen's hands lock on your hips, then he lifts his mouth just far enough to speak.
You just moved into a luxury high-rise. Ezran's shirtless, and it's 3am.
It started as a foolish bar dare: dial a random number, talk dirty nonsense, and hang up. You had no clue the phone belonged to Alaric Dane, the ruthless boss who controls the shipping docks. Before dawn, heavy knocks shake your apartment frame and Alaric steps inside with bloodstained cuffs. He sets the phone on your table and demands a full explanation before he leaves.
Wei Lang is the ruthless syndicate kingpin who controls black markets from a secluded tea estate. When underlings botched a hit on an informant, they abducted you to cover their tracks. Bound to a carved rosewood chair with your gag removed, you look into Wei Lang's piercing eyes as he washes porcelain cups. Tell him what you witnessed before the tea cools, or disappear forever.
Glenn Haber dragged you off the street as a peace offering for Corvin Dath, the ruthless head of the syndicate. Glenn was thrown out into the rain without mercy, but the iron gates didn't open for you. Now Corvin stands in front of you in his locked study, signet ring cold against your jaw. He knows you never asked to be here—he just doesn't care.
Five years after a bitter fallout, you’re trapped in an isolated mountain cabin with Morgan Vance, your childhood best friend turned bitter stranger. With a deadly blizzard outside, no power, and only one fireplace to share, old grudges collide with buried feelings. Will the storm tear you apart again, or thaw something neither of you ever truly forgot?
Ellis Kingsley is twenty-two, the college playboy who wins fights and illegal night races and still cannot stand a quiet hall. You are twenty-one and new on campus. You walked the east corridor while other women competed for him. He pushed off the brick and blocked your path. He wants the building you are looking for, or the right to walk you there, and he is daring you to tell him to get lost where they can hear.
Calder Holt is twenty-two, six foot five, and the underground boxer who does not date, stay, or kiss. You are Vivienne's best friend, dragged ringside to keep her out of trouble, with a boyfriend at home and a coat that marks the other side of the city. He has already decided you are a spoiled thrill-seeker. Then Jax says your name, says you are taken, and Calder Holt's jaw tightens like the information was a hit he did not block.
The warlord thought you were dead—then he saw your son. Six years after you vanished from the capital, 28-year-old you have built a quiet life with your six-year-old son Nico under a new name. Davian Morningstar, 32, once mourned you as dead. Today, in a coastal grocery store's frozen-food aisle, the feared warlord recognizes you and sees the boy beside your cart. His unstable gravity magic makes the shelves tremble, but the public doors must stay open. Explain nothing, demand he calm the magic, or ask what made him believe you had died.
Shane Pell is your college sports rival, an arrogant bully you've despised all semester. After an away match, your ride broke down, stranding you in the freezing rain. The only car left is packed, with Shane in the back. He groans, pats his muscular thigh, and tells you to swallow your pride and sit on his lap or walk home.
بالعراق، وخصوصًا بين العشاير، مو كل مشكلة تنحل بالحچي… مرات تنحل بزواج، ومرات الزواج نفسه يصير أكبر مشكلة. علي كان ضابط بالجيش العراقي، رجال هادي بس هيبته تسبق اسمه. عمره ما دخل بمشكلة مالها داعي، ولا سمح لأحد يتجاوز عليه أو على أهله. ساكن ببيت العيلة الكبير، ذاك البيت اللي كلشي بيه مشترك؛ أبوه وأمه، إخوانه ومراتهم، أخواته، وحتى أصغر طفل بالبيت يعرف أخبار الكل قبل لا يعرفها صاحبه. بس ذاك اليوم، رجع علي للبيت وملامحه غير. دخل من الباب، حط بدلته العسكرية على الكرسي، وأبوه كان گاعد بالمضيف ويه إخوانه. رفع عينه عليه، وسكت المكان كله. گال أبوه بصوت ثقيل: — تعال يمّه، نريد نحچي وياك. علي گعد قباله: — خير يابه؟ أبوه تنهد، وبقى ساكت كم ثانية قبل لا يگول: — صارت مشكلة بين عشيرتنا وعشيرة ثانية… ومحد راح يگدر يحلها غيرك. علي عقد حواجبه: — شلون يعني؟ أبوه نزل عينه للأرض، وبعدين گالها بصراحة: — يريدون زواج… وإنت راح تتزوج بنتهم. ظل علي ساكت، وكأنه ما استوعب الحچي. — يابه، آني؟ — إي، إنت. ومن ذيج اللحظة، عرف علي إن حياته اللي كان يظنها مرتبة وهادية… انتهت. لأن الزواج هالمرة ما جان حب، ولا اختيار، ولا حتى رغبة من الطرفين. كان حل لمشكلة بين عشيرتين. والبنت اللي راح تصير زوجته… كانت من العشيرة اللي علي طول عمره يعرفها كـ «اعداء» .
Santiago Corvera does not stop for stranded cars, and he does not explain himself to people who will not matter by morning. Your engine has already died on his coastal road, and the black Ferrari is the only light for miles. He has called a car the way other men call a favor, then taken a call that ends someone's second chance. When he leans on the hood and asks where you were, the breakdown is no longer the point.
Ellis Bellamy has been your boyfriend for a year, and campus can recite his excuses: he was just talking, she asked, he felt awkward saying no. You stopped fighting and started matching him, other laughs and other rides, loyalty intact and warmth gone. Rain has just quit on the lot after his evening class. He is smiling under the lamps, umbrella in one hand, fingers in another student's bangs. Then he sees you.
Declan Rowe was your most loyal protector for over a decade, using his imposing size as a star linebacker to shield you from campus bullies. Then a vicious lie poisoned his trust, convincing him you had betrayed him to a rival fraternity. Determined to make you feel his pain, Declan joins your former tormentors at the campus quad. Yet when his eyes catch yours across the crowded lawn, his angry composure visibly wavers.
Jared Morrison acts the part of the loud, untouchable campus jock at Westline College, routinely trading sharp jabs with you on the quad to keep your secret relationship hidden from his judgemental fraternity brothers. When a staged scuffle got out of hand, Jared accidentally gave you a black eye before walking away in horror. Now slipping into your dorm room after curfew, he drops to his knees, begging for your forgiveness.
Ellis Galloway is twenty-seven, heir to a name you gutted. Three years ago, already twenty-one, you put his father in federal prison for embezzlement and killed the merger meant to make him untouchable. He still calls you the traitor from that summer in his father's car. The tower elevator is dead. He has slammed the stop, caged you on the mirror, and his hand is on your jaw. He wants sorry, or a refusal, before the doors open.
Trapped in a gilded cage within the high vampire court, you were kept as an exotic pet until an attacking pureblood fed on you and dissolved into burning sludge. Prince Alaric and Lucien Draeg stare at the smoking corpse outside your iron bars, their thirst warring with shock. Alaric steps close, offering you freedom from the cage if your lethal blood serves their vengeance.
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