I Knew You Were Trouble

A sexy agent hounds Wall Street's hottest new wolf in an exhilarating novel from New York Times best-selling author Lauren Layne. Ian Bradley is the definition of a Wall Street hotshot: seven-figure salary, designer suits, and a corner office. His drive off the floor is just as potent. Every woman who knows him has felt the rush. But now he's met his match in Lara McKenzie - a woman with the power to bring Ian to his knees. An ambitious, whip-smart daughter of FBI agents, Lara is a rising star in fighting white-collar crime.

Brent Mason and Hayden Winstead can't stand each other. She plans exclusive parties for her rich family's charities; he's a rough-and-tumble cop who rigs explosives for a living. Could two people be any less suited for conversation? They think not and prefer to keep it that way. Unfortunately, their two best friends are deeply, disgustingly in love.

I ran. Escaped the man who wanted to hurt me. I got in my car and drove. No destination. No direction. No help. I hid in the one place I would never be found. Now in New York with no job, I didn’t know what to do. Then I met him. Jaxson Price. The enigmatic devil who wasn't only above the law, but played it like a puppet. He might be the answer to all my problems. Too bad he's asking for something in return for his help.... My heart.

Thirty days ago, my boss, Mr. Wolf of Wall Street, came to me with an offer I couldn't refuse: Sign my name on the dotted line and pretend to be his fiancée for one month. If I agreed, he would let me out of my employment contract with a "very generous" severance package. The rules were pretty simple: No intimate kissing, no actual sex. Just pretend to love each other for the press, even though I've secretly wanted to knock that sexy smirk off his face since the first day we met.

I’ve got a big...ego and an even bigger bank account. That’s pretty much where my bio ends. I don’t need to say anything else. I’ve just sold 99% of women on going home with me. Do I sound like a jerk to you? That’s because I am. It works for me just fine. Or at least it did. Until I met her. Books talk about sparks flying. Screw that. With her, it was like emergency flares mixed with jet fuel. Or maybe just straight up napalm. Only one problem. She wouldn’t tell me her name or her number when she disappeared from the hotel room after the hottest night of my life.

An alpha among the wolves of Wall Street, Kennedy Dawson rose to the top of the pack by striking the right contracts at the right times. But there's one deal that's been giving him a run for his money - a pact to never again let his assistant, Kate, get under his skin. She may be smart, gorgeous, and sharp as a whip, but she's definitely off-limits. 

Twenty-eight and filthy rich, Matt Cannon is the youngest broker on Wall Street. He may be a "boy wonder", but he's every inch a man. Ask any woman-any night. But when Matt's latest fling makes scandalous headlines, his clients get anxious, and his bosses at Wolfe Investments level an ultimatum: Keep his assets zipped, get a "real" girlfriend, and clean up his act. Only one woman can help Matt with something this hard.

It was just a typical Monday. Until the big boss asked me to make the pitch for a prospective new client. After two years on shaky ground at work because of my screw up, an opportunity to impress the senior partners was just what I needed. Or so I thought, until I walked into the conference room and collided with the man I was supposed to pitch to. My coffee spilled, my files tumbled to the ground, and I almost lost my balance. And that was the good part of my day. Because the gorgeous man who crouched down and looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive was none other than my ex.

It all started with a mysterious blue note sewn into a wedding dress. Something blue. I’d gone to sell my own unworn bridal gown at a vintage clothing store. That’s when I found another bride’s “something old.” Stitched into the lining of a fabulously feathered design was the loveliest message I’d ever read: Thank you for making all of my dreams come true. The name embossed on the blue stationery: Reed Eastwood, obviously the most romantic man who ever lived. I also discovered he’s the most gorgeous. If only my true-love fantasies had stopped there.

Being a doctor in New York City has never been easy. Especially for someone like me, who has a private practice and an incompetent staff who insists on leaving me to fill in for them. When my team finally came to their senses and decided to bring someone more competent into the practice last month, I was actually elated. Until I realized that our new "doctor" was none other than the woman I was supposed to meet for dinner two weeks ago. The same woman who stood me up...

New Orleans belongs to me. You don't know my name, but I control everything you see - and all the things you don't. My reach knows no bounds, and my demands are always met. I didn't need to loan money to a failing family distillery, but it amuses me to have them in my debt. To have her in my debt. She doesn't know she caught my attention. She should've been more careful. I'm going to own her. Consume her. Maybe even keep her. It's time to collect what I'm owed.

In the stunning conclusion to the Forge Trilogy, ruthless billionaire Jericho Forge faces his toughest challenge. To emerge victorious, he'll have to give up the one thing he's never offered a woman - his heart.

From New York Times best-selling author Meghan March comes the story of the ruthless, calculating billionaire Jericho Forge. India Baptiste, his latest prey, is now caught in the high-stakes game that has become her life since colliding with Forge, and she'll need the luck of the devil to survive. 

What's mine, I keep, and that includes Keira Kilgore. It's no longer enough to have her in my debt. No longer enough to own her body. I want something more. She can try to resist, but I'll never give her up. Nothing will keep us apart. Not her. Not my enemies. No one. Her debt will only be paid one way - with her heart.

Ten years ago, Whitney Gable caught me off guard with her long legs and grab-you-by-the-balls blue eyes. I didn't know or care what her name was. Like any Riscoff worth the family name, I went after what I wanted. We burned like a flash fire until she married another man. She hates me, and she should. I objected on her wedding day. Now she's home, with those same long legs and man-eater stare, but there's no ring on her finger. They say a Riscoff and a Gable can never live happily ever after, but I'm not done with Whitney Gable.