Are There Any Signed Copies Of The Tucci Cookbook Available?

“Why would I reject you? We are mates. Tell me why.” he demanded to know. “I am an omega. They say my mother was banished. I have been an omega for as long as I can remember,” I told him and felt shame wash over me as I twiddled with my fingers. He let out a low growl and caused me to recoil into the corner of the bed. “Victoria, I assure you that I will do nothing. Those who have harmed you in any way will be dealt with accordingly. Mark my words,” he said, leaning over to kiss my forehead. Victoria is nineteen years old and unwanted in the Red Moon Pack. She’s just the Omega Girl that nobody wanted. Beaten and scolded daily, she sees no end to her pain and no way out. When she meets her future mate, she is sure he will reject her too. Most of the werewolves get their wolves when they hit eighteen, but here she is, 19 years old and still not got her wolf or shifted. Of course, the pack found it to be yet another reason to treat her like trash, beating and bullying her. Except she’s not just an omega girl. Victoria is about to find out who she really is, and things are about to change. Will Victoria realize her worth and see she is worthy to be loved? What will happen when her sworn enemy, Eliza, vows to take everything from Victoria?

"...don't... stop..." The vibrator would not turn off. I wrapped myself in a throw, clamped my thighs around the thing still going inside me, and hobbled to the door to let the delivery guy in. Begging him, in my head, to please just help me.

At 19, Remy Vale was forced into surrogacy by her desperate father. When one twin was declared stillborn, she fled the hospital with the “dead” baby and vanished. Eight years later, billionaire basketball star Kai Sterling finds her—and their secret bond ignites. But his fiancée, Sienna, discovers the truth and wages a silent war to destroy Remy. No press. No pity. Just a mother fighting to keep the son the world erased. A raw, grounded billionaire romance about survival, secrets, and the woman who refused to be a footnote in someone else’s legacy.

Mira De Vera only wants one thing: to get her eight-year-old sister into a hospital bed before it’s too late. But in a world of “no cash, no admit,” mercy comes with strings. When Mira crosses paths with Adrian Valezco—the cold, untouchable heir behind the foundation banners—he offers a way out: he’ll cover Eli’s admission and move her to the front of the line. The price? A one-year marriage contract. Quiet. Legal. Controlled. Now Mira faces an impossible choice: sign a deal that could save her sister… or protect her freedom and scholarship as rumors explode, an investigation closes in, and anonymous warnings hit her phone: Bianca doesn’t lose. Neither does Darius. Because if Mira steps into Adrian’s world, she won’t just become his wife in public. She’ll become a target.

My father died, leaving me a shattered empire and a death sentence. To save my family, I offered myself to the one man powerful enough to protect us. Luca Marino. The Mafia king everyone fears. Our marriage is a contract, not a love story. Power for him. Protection for me. But Luca doesn’t play fair. He kisses like a threat and touches like a promise. And every time I think I’ve figured him out, he ruins me all over again. I'm playing a dangerous game. And I’m falling for the most dangerous man alive.

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.