Has Sting Announced Any New Concert Dates?

This book is authored by Kit Bryan. I'm an ordinary waiter, but I can see people's fate, including Shifters. Like all children, I was tested for magic when I was only a few days old. Since my bloodline is unknown and my magic is unidentifiable, I was marked with a delicate swirling pattern around my upper right arm. I do have magic, just as the tests showed, but it has never lined up with any known Magic species. I can't breathe fire like a dragon Shifter, or hex people who piss me off like Witches. I can't make potions like an Alchemist or seduce people like a Succubus. Now I don't mean to be unappreciative of the power I do have, it's interesting and all, but it just really doesn't pack much of a punch and most of the time it is just pretty much useless. My special magical skill is the ability to see threads of fate. Most of life is annoying enough for me, and what never occurred to me is that my mate is a rude, pompous nuisance. He's an Alpha and my friend's twin brother.

"You think you can just leave without a trace after what happened that night?" His hands pinned her arms above her head, his piercing blue eyes boring into hers. "W-what do you mean?" she stuttered, his scent reminding her of that night—the night that had changed her life completely. "What do I mean? Are you seriously asking me that, woman? If your brain can't recall how we burned together on that bed, how about I remind you right here?" His face was dangerously close as he growled into her ear. Her eyes widened. He meant it. Every single word. He was the king of the entertainment world, after all. "Let me go," she demanded stubbornly, her voice barely audible. He let out a low, dark chuckle that sent a chill down her spine. "Let you go? Oh, I'll let you go, Tatiana. But not until you understand the consequences of crossing paths with me." •••••••••• In the world of the entertainment industry, we see constant change and creativity. Trends come and go, as do collaborations between artists and producers. This world can make anyone wish to be a part of it—it is said to be inspiring and enjoyable... Meanwhile, that's only on the surface. The same world is filled with deceit, betrayal, fake love, ruthless competition, toxic fans who could ruin you, suicide, and dissatisfaction... This world is mostly dominated by men. How can a woman, hurt by this world, face it—especially when she had a night and her life tangled with the king of them all?

On the night of the biggest music competition of his life, talented songwriter Ethan Blake is accused of stealing songs that he wrote himself. The real thief is his half-brother, Jason Carter, the golden child their father loves more than anyone. For years, Jason secretly stole Ethan's music sheets, lyrics, and melodies, claiming them as his own. Whenever Ethan tried to tell the truth, no one believed him. They called him jealous, bitter, and a liar. Humiliated in front of the whole country, Ethan dies in a tragic car accident. But fate gives him a second chance. He wakes up three years in the past, before everything began. This time, Ethan will never let Jason steal another note. He hides every song, gathers evidence, builds his own career in secret, and returns to the biggest stage stronger than ever. Now the audience that once mocked him will cheer for him... And the family that abandoned him will beg for forgiveness. But some betrayals can never be forgiven.

I thought he was a ghost from my past, but he came back with a marriage certificate and a billion‑dollar debt. He says I have to pay with my body—and my voice. “You’re in breach of contract, Mrs. Moretti.” Seven years ago, Dante Moretti was a broken sound engineer who broke my heart and vanished. Today, he’s the ruthless head of a global empire—and he just walked backstage to claim what’s his. Me. He brings a marriage certificate I don’t remember signing and a list of clauses that turn my world‑famous life into a gilded cage. He owns my label. He owns my jet. And he claims he owns my voice. Dragged to a fortress in Sicily, I’m trapped between a secret past I can’t outrun and a “husband” who looks at me with equal parts hunger and hate. Dante swears he’s the only thing standing between me and the monsters who want to buy my soul. But as the line between protection and possession blurs, I have to wonder: Is Dante Moretti saving me from the fire… or is he the one holding the match? He’s my greatest sin. My biggest secret. And now, he might be my only hope. ---

I begged my husband ninety-nine times to go with me to Jay Boone's concert. On the hundredth time, he finally bought two front-row tickets. Dressed to the nines, I was stopped at the entrance by security because I couldn't produce my ticket. By the time the concert ended, I still hadn't been able to get through to him on the phone. News broke that my husband and his young girlfriend were at the concert, requesting "Sunny Day" from Jay Boone. The story shot straight to the trending charts. There's no rain in the lyrics of "Sunny Day." Because the only world caught in a torrential downpour was mine.

He gave up everything for her. Killian Dante spent 720 days in the world's most dangerous prison for a murder his wife committed — a sacrifice he made without hesitation, for the woman he loved and the child she swore was his. He walked out a king. A thousand of the deadliest men alive dropped to their knees and begged to serve him. She handed him divorce papers before he even made it through the door. The baby was a lie. The "dead" man she left him for was very much alive — and very much laughing in his face. Two years of his life, erased with a five-million-dollar check and the words: "You were the mistake." She thinks she buried a broken man. She has no idea what walked out of that prison. Now the same hands that once healed hardened criminals in the dark are bringing dying children back from the edge — in front of the entire world. Fortune 500 families are begging at his feet. The internet can't stop asking his name. And the wife who threw him away? She's about to learn that some men don't come back to beg. They come back to collect.