Showing results for "Unholy" in Romance

This audiobook contains both Unholy Union and Unholy Intent, the complete Unholy Union Duet!

The 1940s: hard-boiled detectives and femmes fatale are box-office gold. In one iconic scene, set in a deserted museum, the private eye arrives too late, and the buxom beauty is throttled by an ominous Egyptian priest. Now: the Black Box Cinema immortalizes Hollywood’s Golden Age in its gallery of film noir tributes. But the mannequin of that Egyptian priest is hardly lifeless. He walks - and a young starlet dies a terrifying death. Movie mogul Eddie Archer’s son is charged with the grisly murder.

Maksim Smolov wasn't the monster I was running from. He's the devil I found. Those deep brown eyes didn't even blink. One minute, I'm being chased down a dark alleyway by the nastiest demons from my past; the next, they're begging for mercy from a man in an expensive suit. If I had known my savior was the most feared mafia boss in New York, I might not have repaid his kindness with a kiss—a kiss that led to the hottest night of my life—but I did, and that was that.

A cycle of ritual murders. A coven of dark warlocks, drawing their immortality from the magic of their dead master. Two men sworn to stop the deaths, destroy the warlocks, and avenge the victims. Except this time, the killer flips the script. Seth Tanner swore vengeance on the dark witches who killed his brother, Jesse. He rescued Evan Malone from one of the witches, and they've fallen in love despite the danger and chaos, going on the road to complete the quest and bring an end to the ritual murders.

The 1940s: hard-boiled detectives and femmes fatale are box-office gold. In one iconic scene, set in a deserted museum, the private eye arrives too late, and the buxom beauty is throttled by an ominous Egyptian priest. Now: the Black Box Cinema immortalizes Hollywood’s Golden Age in its gallery of film noir tributes. But the mannequin of that Egyptian priest is hardly lifeless. He walks - and a young starlet dies a terrifying death. Movie mogul Eddie Archer’s son is charged with the grisly murder.

Monsters don't hide in the dark. When I met Damian Di Santo in a dark corridor of my family home I knew he was a monster. I was a scared girl. He was already a man. That was when his twisted countdown began. Marked by dead roses and sharp thorns, eight years passed each bringing me closer to becoming his. Until the eve of my eighteenth birthday. That was the night he returned to claim me.

Cydney Hetherington is a young widow and single mother, the Director of Operations at a small world-class art and antiquities museum in California. The star attraction of the museum's latest exhibit entitled Resurrection is "The Lucius Robe", the cloak said to be worn by Christ during his trial before Pilate. This mysterious relic draws hordes of people to the small museum, including a terrorist group interested in obtaining it for their own sinister purposes.

It's three in the morning, and we're in her bed. My body throbs from his mouth on me, my blood still whooshing in my ears. I want to make him feel like this, so I can drown in it. So I can drown in him. Goddamn, I want to suffocate in every fiber of Locke Halliwell with the woman I love at my side. He has me fragile already. She has me in pieces at her feet. And man alive, I wish that was all I had to worry about. But this life. It's vicious. It's deadly. And if I can't protect every soul I've ever loved from the past, the future is already in ashes at my feet.

Staying away is Kyou’s number one rule when it comes to protecting the sexy real-estate developer. Kyou has a routine. A system. He guards Brannigan Genovese, hacks for his family of choice, and drinks far too much caffeine for any living being. Only a few things can completely disrupt his routine to cause him trouble: Brannigan buying up real estate from the Irish Mob, Kyou’s band of brothers figuring out who Brannigan actually is, Ivan, and feelings for one Brannigan Genovese. Oddly enough, it’s the feelings that get Kyou in the most trouble.

I'd know that voice anywhere, and every time I hear it, it makes me sweat. If you saw Donovan MacLeod, trust me, you'd need a change of clothes, too. It's been eighteen years, but he's got the same cocky swagger, silver-gray eyes, and sexy smile that promises a whole lot of trouble. Not that I'll ever find out because he loathes me - thinks I'm some spoiled princess. So, there's something I've just got to ask….