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"I will be your mistress, Adrian. Just let my family live." Adrian lifted his glass of wine. A faint smile curved his lips. "I thought they would send me the adopted daughter," he said, "I didn't expect you." "Everyone said your brother spoiled you like a princess. Turns out that was just a joke." The tip of the pen paused, stabbing a small blot of ink onto the paper. I signed my name, calm to the point of silence. The contract would take effect in three days. Then, I would cut all ties with the Willis name. I traded myself for the survival of the Willis family and my own permanent release.

My boyfriend's "best female friend" was angry again. Why? Because for our five-year anniversary, he got a gift just for me—and forgot about hers. Simone Baker threw a complete fit, sobbing and making a huge scene. Scott Tanner immediately blocked me and removed me on Instagram, then changed our matching couple profile pictures. "Girls can be so dramatic," he said. "Once I've calmed her down, we'll switch them back." I reminded him, "That makes a hundred times now." He just smiled and gave me a quick kiss. "I know. I'll make it fast this time." That night, Simone posted a status update: [Your effort was acceptable. You get three days of freedom.] Almost immediately, Scott unblocked me. [Okay, babe. We can put our couple pictures back now.] But then a male account—using my half of the matching photo—sent him a friend request, followed by a single question mark. [Since when are couple photos a group project?]

Breaking Free is an emotional novel about a young pregnant woman trying to break free from her past. With an abusive ex on the loose to find her, she bumps into a Navy Seal who promises to protect her from all danger. Will she break free from the anger and pain that she has held in for so long, that she couldn't love? will this sexy man change that and make her fall in love?

'So here I lay here in the cold, mentally shattered, physically broken, bleeding out and waiting for the sweet silence and darkness of death to come finally take its hold on me. A lot of things start to run through my head, things I don't want to think about right now. So I force myself to realize and accept one final bitter truth, he never loved me.' When Nova Storms meets her Mate, she prays for the best and expects the worst. Though her image of the worst was nothing compared to what he actually did to her. Unfortunately she didn't see it coming until it was too late. Left for dead, she waits. Cursing the Moon Goddess for her tortured life, when something unexpected happens; or someone I should say.

He shouldn’t have imagined her lying naked on his bed. She shouldn’t have imagined his devilishly handsome face between her legs. But it was too late. Kiara began noticing Ethan's washboard abs when he hopped out of the pool, dripping wet after swim practice. Ethan began gazing at Kiara’s golden skin in a bikini as a grown woman instead of the girl next door he grew up with. That kiss should have never happened. It was just one moment in a lifetime of moments, but they both felt its power. They knew the thrumming in their veins and desperation in their bodies might give them all they ever wanted or ruin everything if they followed it. Kiara and Ethan knew they should have never kissed. But it's too late to take that choice back, so they have a new one to make. Fall for each other and risk their friendship or try to forget one little kiss that might change everything. PREVIEW: “If you don’t want to kiss me then... let’s swim.” “Yeah, sure.” “Naked.” “What?” “I always wanted to try skinny dipping. And I really want to get out of these clothes.” “What if someone catches you... me, both?” “We will be in the pool, Ethan. And no one can see us from the living room.” I smirked when I said, “Unless you want to watch me while I swim, you can stay here.” His eyes darkened, and he looked away, probably thinking the same when I noticed red blush creeping up his neck and making his ears and cheeks flush. Cute. “Come on, Ethan. Don’t be a chicken...” “Fine.” His voice was rough when he said, “Remove that sweater first.”

When Frank Zelhar, my best friend’s father, taught me how to drive, he told me to sit in his lap while he instructed me. Since the road was bumpy, I kept jolting on his body, and I could sense a hot, hard thing behind me. As I moved, it poked against me. He touched me on the pretext of helping me hone my willpower. When he touched my most intimate parts, I could feel a wetness coming from within me, and I knew that things were about to get out of control.