Novels by Shandia

The morning hum of suburbia wrapped itself around Grace like a warm, suffocating blanket. Sprinklers ticked across manicured lawns. Children laughed on their bikes. The scent of cinnamon rolls drifted from Mrs. Denton’s porch down the street.Perfection, on the surface.Grace adjusted the strap on her daughter Lily’s backpack and kissed her forehead. “You’ve got everything?”“Yep!” Lily beamed, missing a front tooth. “You’ll be at the recital, right?”“Wouldn’t miss it,” Grace said with a smile she’d practiced too many times.Ryan leaned against the SUV, coffee in hand, watching them with narrowed eyes. “You going into the city again today?” he asked, casual—too casual.She nodded. “Brunch meeting with Ava. Some charity event for the school board.”He sipped his coffee and didn’t answer.The lie slid between them like a blade.---At the park, Ava perched on a bench in oversized sunglasses, scanning the playground where her son, Caleb, climbed the jungle gym like a tiny warlord.Mothe

The morning sun spilled gold across Grace’s marble kitchen floor, but warmth was the last thing she felt. The air was sterile, too clean—like the quiet after a storm. Ryan sat across the table, his jaw tight, fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee he hadn’t touched.She slid a plate of pancakes toward him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I added blueberries. Your favorite.”He didn’t look up. Just stirred his coffee like it might give him answers she refused to say aloud.The silence between them had grown teeth lately—sharp, unforgiving. Grace knew he felt it. She just didn’t care. Not anymore.Not since Cain.Not since she’d tasted power, kissed danger, surrendered to something darker than marriage vows and mortgage payments.Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her robe. A single name lit up the screen. No emoji. No words. Just *Cain*.She muted the screen and turned back to Ryan with her sweetest voice.“You heading into the office today?”His eyes finally met hers—sus

The city never slept for people like Cain Russo.It prowled. It hunted. It devoured.And tonight, it bared its teeth inside the walls of Club Inferno.Grace stepped into the heat of the club, the bass rumbling up her legs like a lover’s touch. The Red Room was behind velvet ropes and locked doors, but Cain’s hand on her lower back said she already belonged to it. She wore black silk, her hair pinned high, lips bloodred. Not a wife. Not a woman in mourning.A weapon.A fantasy.His.And yet, across the room, her past waited like a loaded gun.Ryan.Her husband’s eyes met hers through the crowd. Anger barely masked behind the cold sheen of his whiskey glass. She hadn’t told him she was going out. Not that she owed him anything anymore.Cain noticed the shift in her breathing, the stiffness in her spine.“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he murmured.Grace leaned back, brushing her ass against his groin. “No. Just a mistake.”Cain chuckled, dark and low. “Then let’s make sure he knows

Grace barely had time to breathe.Cain spun her around, pressing her against the glass wall that overlooked the city like a kingdom beneath his feet. He pulled the straps of her lace bra down her shoulders slowly, as if savoring the reveal.“You walk around my world like you don’t know what you do to me,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “But I think you *do*.”His mouth found her neck again, biting down harder this time, drawing a gasp from her lips as his hands slid lower—gripping, claiming.“I should ruin you for touching him,” he whispered against her collarbone, dragging his fingers beneath the lace of her panties. “But then again… maybe I like it when you lie.”His fingers slid between her thighs.*No teasing.*Just filthy, wet friction. Deep, slow, exact.Grace moaned, arching against him, breath fogging the glass. The city blurred behind her. Nothing mattered but the way he touched her—*owned* her.Cain lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the black granite counter in his

Grace shut the door behind her, her back pressed to the cool wood, heart thundering in her chest. Her lips were swollen from Cain’s kiss, her thighs slick with arousal she hadn’t had a chance to even acknowledge.She had never been kissed like that. Never been *claimed.*Her fingers trembled as she smoothed her robe, trying to compose herself. It was no use—her skin burned with the imprint of his hands. Her body had already betrayed her.*He didn’t even undress me,* she thought. *And I would’ve let him.*She forced herself back into the loft’s open lounge, head high, eyes sharp.Ava was leaned back on the velvet couch, letting the Russian’s hand ride dangerously high on her thigh. She shot Grace a wicked smirk—*you too, huh?*—as their eyes met.Grace sat beside her, too aware of every pulse in her body.“I swear,” Ava whispered, low and sultry in her ear, “I don’t know if I want to screw Cain… or take his empire.”Grace turned her head, their mouths inches apart. “Why not both?”Befor

The job wasn’t at the club this time.Cain had something *special* in mind.The three women stood in a high-end loft in the heart of the city, sleek and cold with panoramic windows that overlooked the skyline. Cain's men had dressed them in tailored black lingerie beneath silk robes—nothing was left to the imagination.Grace adjusted her robe. “What exactly are we doing here?”Luca leaned against the kitchen island, sipping a whiskey. “Entertaining. Distraction. Intelligence.”Ava raised a brow. “You want us to seduce intel out of someone?”Cain appeared then, stepping into the room like a storm cloaked in control. “Not someone,” he said, “*men* who think they’re smarter than me. You smile, you tease, you touch—but you don’t get f**ked. Not unless you want to.”His eyes landed on Grace last, his voice dipping low.“And some of you look like you’re already dangerously close.”Grace flushed but didn’t drop her gaze.Cain’s stare lingered, burning hot enough to leave a mark.Then he was