"Sing, gypsies, sing of your lies." That old song plays in my head as the world turns around me faster than it has ever turned. Monsters and mayhem. That's become my life. Fear and apprehension. That's become the normal for those around me. Dread and distraction. That's what has interrupted my own personal romance story with my mon-star quad. Vengeance and retribution. That was the theme of the monster world long before I landed in it, and it's starting to heat up more than ever. I guess it's time to see if I can handle being in the middle, because that's where I'm about to put myself.

It should be the most shocking news I’d ever gotten - my boyfriend is getting married. Okay, technically he’s my ex-boyfriend. Two months ago he decided he wanted a break. I still thought he was my happily-ever-after. On any other day, knowing he was gone for good would be the worst thing that could possibly happen. But not today. Because not only is my boyfriend getting married - his bride is my best friend. And they’ve sent me an invitation. There’s no way I’m going to attend. I don’t care if it’s in beautiful Scotland. Nothing and no one could convince me.

January Dixon. She's the girl I've lusted after for years. A smart mouth and sharp tongue surrounded by soft beauty and a body I'd give up an organ just to touch. It's a tricky situation since she lives right down the street and dating a neighbor generally isn't a good idea. But this is Violent Circle, where normal may as well be a dirty word. Thanks to an impromptu fashion show where I tossed all self-respect aside and strutted my stuff in full bondage gear in front of our small town, she now owes me a date. And I plan to collect. 

The only thing about me that’s a size zero is the filter on my mouth. I’ve got a big personality, a big rack, and a big number on the scale. And I’m perfectly fine with that. But when some random guy suggests I might not be eating alone if I’d ordered a salad instead of a hamburger I’m shocked silent, which is a feat, trust me. That brings us to one sexy fireman named Frankie Hartigan. He’s hot. He’s funny. And he’s just apologized for being late for our “date” then glared at the fat-shaming jerk.

Don’t miss the next installment of the USA Today bestselling romantic comedy series and find out what happens when the whole town thinks Fallon Hartigan slept with the most hated man in Harbor City.

Some women just have it - that combination of stunning looks and sexual confidence that brings men to their knees. Not me. My last boyfriend once fell asleep while we were...you know. Not my proudest moment. And my crush on my hot, arrogant, and oh-so-unattainable CEO? Never going to happen. But one night, after too much wine, I find myself online, creating a profile for a sex kitten called SweetVixen. Safe behind my computer screen, I'm suddenly the seductive goddess of my wildest imagination.

Imagine searching your whole life for answers, and then finally finding them. A part of you is excited to know the truth. Another part of you is damaged, because you realize why it was so hard to learn answers. Secrets aren't usually very pretty. In the midst of all of it, the four monsters I've gotten too attached to are about to be reunited with the one woman they all once loved so deeply that they sacrificed everything for an eternity with her. They said they hated Arion, but I never see hatred when they're around him. I see frustration, resentment, anger, and pain, never hatred.

A match made in hell? Devon and Tanner fight like...well, cats and dogs. Which, to be fair, makes sense since hellcats and hellhounds aren't exactly a match made in heaven. Unfortunately, their demons' antipathy towards each other is matched only by the red-hot sexual tension between Tanner and Devon. It's driving them - and their long-suffering friends Harper and Knox - mad.When Devon is nearly kidnapped, Tanner's protective instincts kick into overdrive - he's sticking by her side, day and night.

I'm not all that special, really. I'm sure there are a lot of girls with old gypsy blood who see the dead, have killer cults hunting their family, and turn into something that gets scary when they panic. Yep. I'm just an ordinary girl. I wish people would believe that. I've been labeled as one thing or another for most of my life: Death Girl. Crazy Gypsy Girl. Gothic Chick. Monster. It took my mother's death for me to finally start getting answers about what's really been going on. Unfortunately, most of the answers come from men...who aren't just men.

I'm like a snowball rolling downhill. That's the first thing that pops into my mind when I try to explain my life. I don't know exactly "what'"I am, but I do know who I am. At least...I did. Sometimes life sends things your way that upend everything you thought you knew, and then slings you in another direction without any sort of harness or warning. Sometimes it drops someone like me off in the path of four wildly different monsters, who all used to be best friends, but now sort of hate each other and compete over absolutely everything, including...me.

When a hockey player with a major PR problem finds himself on a bad date with a redhead, he has to tough it out for five dates without flaking - or falling in love. 

They say your first kiss should be earned. Mine was stolen by a devil in a masquerade mask under the black Chicago sky. They say the vows you take on your wedding day are sacred. Mine were broken before we left church. They say your heart only beats for one man. Mine split and bled for two rivals who fought for it until the bitter end. I was promised to Angelo Bandini, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the Chicago Outfit. Then taken by Senator Wolfe Keaton, who held my father’s sins over his head to force me into marriage.

"Girls like you aren't exactly welcomed at a place like this, so keep your head down and look the other way." Those were the exact words of my social worker when she dropped me in my newest hellhole, a place for "troubled teens". I didn't listen, and now I'm on their radar. Too bad for them, I don't follow rules. Too bad for me, they're determined to make sure I do. Inconceivably attractive and treated like kings...these are the boys of Brayshaw High.

It all started with a sexy selfie. Texted to the wrong number. Oops. Not my finest moment - but I have nothing to be ashamed of. She thought I was no better, and I quote, than the knuckle-dragging douchebags she was never dating again. It was a stupid dare from a girl I’d met online, but since she’d given me a fake number, I didn’t feel bad that my interests were suddenly focused elsewhere - on the fiery and sharp-tongued Peyton that I found myself sparring with over text. The following day, my case of mistaken identity came back to bite me in the banana.

Ember Hastings never thought she'd be dragged away from White Timber and everything she loved, thrust in the middle of a big city she hated, or have her husband of nine years say, "I can't do this anymore", all within the span of three months - yet here she is. She misses her family, she misses the farm, and she misses having a backbone and caring whether or not the stain on her shirt is chocolate or s--t. She works from home doing transcription. Does she really need to shower or leave the house?