I met the president's son when we were both young. Matthew Hamilton was handsome, polished, and intelligent. I'd never met a guy like him. He promised me that he'd never run for president. I promised that if he did, I'd be by his side. Two terms later, an invitation to join Matthew Hamilton's campaign is the most exhilarating opportunity I've ever experienced. I'm determined to make a difference; he is determined to win.

He's destined for the White House and engaged to be married next month. Except he just married me instead. While drunk in Vegas. Bradford Black. He's powerful. Rich as sin. And he's now my husband. His fiancée hates me. His political advisors want me gone. The world can't get enough of me and the scandal we've caused. I want to run. I want to hide. I want to pretend none of this is happening. But, oh God. My husband doesn't care about the scandal because all he cares about is me. He's possessive, grumpy, and determined for us to stay married.

Célian Laurent. Manhattan royalty. Notorious playboy. Heir to a media empire...and my new boss. I could have impressed him, if not for last month's unforgettable one-night stand. I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant memory - namely, his wallet. Now he's staring me down like I'm the dirt under his Italian loafers, and I'm supposed to take it. But the thing about being Judith "Jude" Humphry is I have nothing to lose. Brooklyn girl. Infamously quirky. Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch.

It should have been easy. I needed the money. He needed a babysitter to keep him from snorting himself to death. I was cherry-picked especially for him. Responsible. Optimistic. Warm. Innocent. The worst part is that I should have known better. Alex Winslow. British rock star. Serial heartbreaker. Casanova with whiskey eyes. “Don’t get near the devil in a leather jacket. He’ll chew you up and spit you out.” Guess what? I didn’t listen. I signed the contract. World tour. Three months. Four Continents. 100 shows. My name is Indigo Bellamy, and I sold my soul to a tattooed god.

When Jess Montell meets Trace West at a hockey game, she doesn’t know his name or occupation. What she does know is there’s an instant attraction that’s impossible to ignore—or forget. And forgetting is exactly what she wants to do when she learns he’s not just a successful Wall Street suit but the heir to one of New York’s biggest Mafia families. The last thing Trace needs is a romantic anything with law enforcement, and parole officer Jess has trouble written all over her. Too bad he likes trouble.