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Yūri: I was raised in this world of shadows, violence, and blood. It isn't the life I would choose, but I don't get a choice. I'm my father's only child and heir. I've been groomed to lead our clan's yakuza. I want to be free. And one way or another, I'm going to be. I just need to get away from my family and avoid the sexy detective who's on my tail. Hibiki: This case could make or break my career. I'm pretty sure my captain gave me the Kitsune case just to see me fail. No one has been able to catch her, and now I'm expected to. It would be easier to focus on the case if I could stop daydreaming about that naked protestor. I didn't even get her name. This book is a prequel/sequel to The Princes of Ravenwood. You do not need to have read The Princes of Ravenwood to enjoy this book, but it is encouraged. Ravenwood Series Reading Order: Book 1 - The Princes of Ravenwood Book 2 - Chasing Kitsune Book 3 - Expect The Unexpected Book 4 - Out Of My League Book 5 - Man's Best Wingman

When I found out he was my mate I knew he wouldn't leave her for me...I just hoped. She was beautiful and sweet and not in the fake kind of way either. He was the future alpha and she was the best fit for his future Luna. They looked and worked perfect together. He said the words that hurt me the most, "I can't be with you Elena, I love her." Fast forward six years... What happens when she goes away to college and comes back a new woman? Just how much has changed over the years? Read and find out! (Cover designed by @jullianreeds74)

How much could an Alpha compensate a woman before the compensation started to look like a joke? Kaelan Blackthorne was very good at compensating me. He was rich enough to own mines, ports, a pharmaceutical empire, and half a financial district. He was also the strongest Alpha the Blackthorn Pack had produced in centuries. And I was his unmarked mate. For three years, every time he postponed our mate ceremony to comfort Vera, his widowed sister-in-law, he sent me another gift. A blue diamond necklace. A room of couture gowns. His mother’s platinum crown. Every time a velvet box arrived at my door, Vera sent me a video. [So what if he buys you pretty things? I’m the one he stays with when the moon rises.] [You get his guilt. I get his time.] I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I didn’t grab his sleeve and ask why he was leaving me behind again. When Kaelan postponed the ceremony for the sixth time, he finally promised it would happen in three days. This time, I only picked the most expensive crown on the list and handed him the transfer papers. He signed without looking. For the first time in days, his eyes softened. “After the ceremony, Eve, I’ll take you to the Full Moon Vow Ball. Every pack will know you’re mine.” I smiled, put the papers away, and said, “Okay.” I just didn’t tell him what he had really signed. It wasn’t another gift list. It was my application to cancel our mate ceremony.

The Ivanovas and the Vitales are well-known aristocratic families who have maintained everlasting friendship through generations. My name is Anastasia Ivanova. I have been the daughter of the Ivanovas for twenty years, only to discover just now that I was switched at birth. When I was swept out of the Ivanova’s mansion like rubbish, Lorenzo, the youngest son of the Vitale family, firmly picked me up in spite of all objections. Lorenzo always acted cold and distant toward me. I didn’t know why he came to take me into his car at that time. He whispered in my ear again and again, ‌"I’ve wanted you for a long time."‌ He pinned me against the leather seat, making me cry until my voice was hoarse. At that moment, I finally understood his coldness over the years was not indifference but restraint. Soon after, Lorenzo overrode all objections to marry me. His parents were vehemently against me, but Lorenzo directly stripped them of power and became the youngest godfather. Scarlett Montgomery tried to stop us from getting married, but Lorenzo canceled all her credit cards and threatened to send her away. I thought we would have a happy life. Three days before our wedding ceremony, he planned to send me abroad, claiming enemies might retaliate. But, I accidentally overheard him talking to Scarlett in the hallway at night. "Thank goodness. You tricked her into leaving until after I give birth. You’re so good to me!"‌ He kissed her cheek, ‌"I don’t want Anastasia know our affair. You must keep it secret."‌ Their dialogue made me devastated. But I didn’t confront him immediately. Instead, I quietly completed my immigration paperwork as a way to make a clean break with him.

To the citizens of Pierview, Taylor Yoshida is nothing more than a 16-year-old Japanese, home school, graffiti artist, delinquent, who’s always getting himself into trouble. However, Taylor harbors a dark secret from most of the people in town. He is the reincarnation of a kaiju; an interdimensional creature capable of ungodly abilities. But when more Kaiju attack Pierview, Taylor must shed his secrets and embrace his kaiju heritage to face these savage creatures and the secret organization responsible for their arrival known as Project Echidna.

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.