He just kept smiling while shaking his head. "After you, Snowflake," he said, sweeping his hand, but I only growled at him, thoroughly unamused by the name. "Call me Snowflake one more time--" I started, my voice low, but he seemed unfazed by it. "Your death threats are getting stale, do you not think, love?" He asked, emphasizing the last word with a raised eyebrow. When she took on the dare, the last thing she expected was to be captured like a wild animal and brought to a grand palace belonging to one of the three Gordon boys. She certainly didn't expect to play the part of a Protector or to constantly question her emotions for a pair of arrogant, blue eyes. (First installment of the Gordon series. Kendall Gordon's story.) Cover designer: maejestic Highest Ranking: #1 WEREWOLF/ #2 RANDOM

The two thousand descendants of King Solomon’s ancient harem have the ultimate power of seduction: Their very touch is as addictive as any drug. But that power comes at a price: Wives die giving birth. They can only bear daughters. They are only fertile until the age of twenty-four. Hunted for hundreds of generations by men who crave their touch and fear its power, the Wives have kept safe by following three simple rules: A Wife shall have no meaningful relationships outside the clan. A Wife’s addictive touch may be used only for procreation or to protect the clan. A Wife shall sacrifice herself for her daughter at the age of twenty-four. But tonight, the rules have been broken, and someone must pay. In the blistering first episode of King Solomon’s Wives, we meet Sumarra on the night she plans to conceive. Instead, she and the other wives find themselves under attack from a group of male hunters, intent on destroying them. Sumarra has always broken small rules and indulged rebellious tendencies. Now that the Wives have been found, her defiance will either be their salvation or her own undoing.

My dream continued the one I'd been having for the past couple of nights. I ran, gasping for breath, through the familiar woods from a dark figure behind me. The faster I tried to run, the slower I seemed to go, until it was like I was running in place. I knew I needed to run. I was terrified of what the figure would do when he caught me. "Mara Leigh," a deep, smooth voice called. It was almost hypnotic. That was new. The figure had never spoke before now. I ran as fast as I could go, eyes searching the forest floor for a big stick or something that I could use to defend myself. "Mara Leigh!" the voice came again, this time more insistent. The forest slowly started to fade and I started to awake to someone shaking my shoulders. "Beau?" I mumbled, turning my head to the side. What's Beau doing in my room this time of night? Why is he shaking me? "Do not call me that name." My eyes flew open as I jumped at the voice from my dream. A face was right in front of mine, and just like the voice, it wasn't Beau. Before I could form a scream, a hand covered my mouth. I tried to bite it but I couldn't get my mouth to open. He's too strong. I started to use my whole body to try to get away, but he crawled on top of me, holding me down. I pulled the hidden knife out from under my pillow and slashed as hard as I could at him, but he just grabbed my wrist and squeezed it until the pain made me drop the knife. Then he grabbed both my hands in one of his and held them over my head. He held me down while I struggled. I grunted and moved and tried to kick and scream, but I only wore myself out. Exhausted, I stopped thrashing and let the tears flow freely down my cheeks. I didn't know what to do, so I just tried to prepare myself for whatever was coming.

Jack the Ripper. The name strikes fear into the hearts of those living in Victorian London. Preying on innocent women, the mysterious murderer slinks along the cobblestoned streets undetected and disappears without a trace into the night. Diana Ashdown. Beautiful and adventurous, she never wanted to be married off and trapped in a marriage she didn’t choose. She longs to see the world and write about it, but in 1888, her opportunities to become a journalist are limited. Living in a lavish, gloomy home and married to the handsome, but cruel and coldly distant Lucian Ashdown, the Marquess of Aberaeron, Diana’s only job as a wife is to care for the children from the marquess' first marriage. But a chance encounter pulls her into the drama surrounding the murders in Whitechapel, and her investigative skills are put to use as she helps to unravel the deadly mysteries surrounding the Ripper. It isn’t long before Diana finds herself in the middle of the nightmare, with her own life on the line. As the murders continue and London is stirred into a panic, Diana realizes that the killer might be living closer than she’d ever imagined…even under the same roof. As she fights to save herself and London, Diana will encounter love, heartache, family, and blood. Lots and lots of blood.