Soleil Bowie was born into everything-wealth, beauty, fame, and a last name that opened doors. doors. A spoiled Manhattan socialite, she's spent years drowning in parties, designer clothes, alcohol, and drugs while living in the shadow of her late mother. After one reckless night lands her in jail, Soleil's powerful stepfather has had enough. He sends her to the family's secluded Hamptons estate, where she's forced into addiction counseling and placed under the watch of Nasir Brooks. Nasir is quiet, guarded, and determined to build a better life by correcting the mistakes of his past. He takes the security job expecting something simple. Instead, he finds himself responsible for a woman who seems determined to make his job-and his life-impossible. Soleil wants nothing to do with him. Nasir wants nothing to do with her. But somewhere between resentment, late nights, and unexpected moments of vulnerability, Nasir begins seeing the girl beneath the headlines. Because Soleil has secrets. And Nasir begins to realize that some people aren't as easy to save as they first appear. Sometimes loving someone means getting close enough to see what everyone else missed. Sometimes by the time you see it, it may already be too late. And some goodbyes are never meant to be spoken.

SEQUEL TO THE ART OF MANIPULATION Jonika thought the bullet ended everything-his empire, his hold on her heart, and the man she loved but was forced to betray. She tried to rebuild, to bury the grief under the illusion of a normal life. But grief doesn't stay buried. It claws. It festers. And some ghosts don't stay dead. When fate drags Jonika back into the shadows she thought she'd escaped, she finds herself hunted by the very man she once destroyed. His face is the same, his eyes colder, his love and fury tangled into something she can't escape. Now she doesn't know if he has returned to reclaim her heart... or claim her life.

If someone offers to pay off your student loans in exchange for signing a non-disclosure agreement and moving into the middle of nowhere, you should probably ask more questions. I didn't. I was a broke grad student desperate for a lifeline, and the contract offered by the elusive billionaire was too good to pass up. My job was simple: live in a sprawling, heavily fortified glass mansion in the mountains, teach his eight-year-old daughter French and mathematics, and never, ever go into the West Wing of the house. I thought my new boss was just an eccentric, reclusive tech genius. He is devastatingly handsome, entirely silent, and moves through the mansion like a predatory ghost. He watches me with cold, pale eyes that make my pulse race for all the wrong reasons, but he is a devoted father, and the paychecks clear every week. I thought I was safe in his snowbound sanctuary. Until the night I accidentally wake up, walk into the wrong room, and see my quiet, eccentric boss standing over a man bleeding out on a plastic tarp, holding a suppressed pistol with the casual grace of a reaper. He isn't a tech genius. He is the head of the most ruthless Russo-American syndicate on the continent, and I have just seen exactly what he does in the dark. I know too much. I am a liability. I should be dead. But as the Don of the syndicate wipes the blood from his hands and locks the heavy steel doors of the mansion, trapping me inside with him, I realize that dying might have been the easier option. Because he doesn't want to silence me. He wants to keep me.

𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗘𝗗𝗚𝗘 ❆ "Move, Carlisle." I kept my chin lifted, refusing to look away from the center of the ice. He didn't budge. Instead, a massive, bruised hand slammed flat against the cold glass beside my head, caging me in. The freezing air of the empty 2:00 AM arena suddenly felt suffocating. "You smile at everyone else like they hung the moon, Nadia," he murmured, his voice a low, vicious scrape. "But you look at me like I'm dirt." He leaned in, his chest brushing mine, his mouth stopping a breath away from my jaw. He left a smear of blood from his split lip on my pristine collar. "Keep looking at me like that," he whispered. "See what it makes me do." ⛸️ 𝑵𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒂 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍 has one rule: absolute perfection. If she loses her figure skating scholarship, she loses everything. She doesn't have time for distractions, and she certainly doesn't have time for the suspended, feral enforcer of the university's hockey team who steals her late-night ice time. 𝑽𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒏 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒆 is the university's star but brutal hockey player. Comes from old-money roots, built for violence, and entirely unhinged. He's used to people either bowing to his wealth or cowering from his temper. But Nadia? She just rolls her eyes and tells him to get out of her way. That was her first mistake. Now, Vaughn isn't just taking up her rink. He's watching her. Stalking her. Discovering the secret, raw passions she hides from the world. And he's decided that her flawless, untouchable world is exactly what he wants to shatter, and he won't stop until every broken piece belongs to him.

Amira Hart was never meant to be part of the story. Not the public one, anyway. But behind every polished legacy is the girl no one talks about-the one who was loved in secret, then left in silence. For two years, Amira and Brooks Whitmore IV lived in that silence. He was the President's son, raised for cameras and campaign trails. She was the woman he chose when no one was watching. Their worlds were never meant to meet. The cards were stacked long before they kissed in the dark. Now, two years later, a wedding invitation arrives. His name is on it. So is hers. Told in fragments and flashbacks, His Secret is a quiet storm of a love story-about memory, erasure, and the women history tries to forget.

Catalyna Jade has spent most of her life underneath her father's control. Being Damien Jade's daughter came with money and protection, but rarely the freedom to make her own choices. Especially when it came to marriage. At twenty-one, Catalyna learns she's expected to marry twenty-five-year-old Braxton Millien Kanu-a quiet, possessive, and dangerous man deeply involved in the same world her father tried to shelter her from. Neither of them chose the arrangement, and Catalyna has no intentions of making it easy. But somewhere between arguments, family secrets, dangerous business, and wedding plans, their arrangement slowly becomes something neither of them expected. They were told to get married. Nobody told them what would happen if they actually fell in love.

Found myself in bed with both, intimacy was strong and I couldn't let go.

Kaia is a powerhouse attorney - fierce, passionate, and determined to see Black women win. In the courtroom, she's unstoppable.. but at home her marriage is falling apart. Behind closed doors, Kaia struggles to hold together a relationship where she's the only one fighting to make it work. Exhausted and lonely she crosses paths with Saint at a welcome home party- a smooth, charming, man that reels her in. What starts as a steamy passionate affair quickly spirals into something deeper, forcing them both to confront the consequences of their choices and the complicated reality of love, loyalty, and desire.

"You got three seconds to open this door before I kick that bitch in," a deep voice growled through the wood. Zamara's heart jumped. She wasn't expecting nobody-especially not a man with a voice that rough and mean. "Nigga, who the fuck-" she started, yanking the door open. And immediately regretted it. He stood there like a shadow from hell. Tall. Broad. Tatted. And mad as fuck. A black hoodie hugged his body, revealing a Glock tucked at his hip. "Where. The fuck. Is Kyndall?" he asked low and slow. Zamara crossed her arms over her chest, attitude activated. "I don't know, and I damn sure ain't scared of you standing here mean-mugging like you somebody daddy." A smirk curled on his lips. "You should be scared, ma." Then he leaned in, real close. "But lucky for you... I don't hit women. I just fuck 'em crazy and make sure they don't walk right for three days." Her breath caught, but her mouth didn't. "Boy, please." "You gon' be sayin that from my bed soon. Watch."