A horror tale about the Witch Bride, second wife of a King, and the discord between her and her young stepson.At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.

    However, I have no qualms about using it when it comes to Max Cooper. Arrogant. Aggravating. Annoying. Those are just a few of the names I have for him that start with the letter A. I haven’t gotten through the rest of the alphabet ... yet. From the moment I met Max three years ago, he was nothing but an arsehole. The only reason we put up with each other is because we share the same best friend. Then, everything suddenly changes when Max is involved in a horrific accident that sets him back three years. He remembers his friends, but here’s the real kicker: He doesn’t remember … me. At first, I think it must be a cruel joke, but then I see how serious he is. Over time, I get to know the real Max Cooper. The one who can be sweet, funny, and kind. The one who shows me he’s not such an arsehole after all. Then, the inevitable happens. I fall for him. Just as things between us begin to balance out, I lose my own equilibrium, and I don’t know why. But, despite all of this, no one is prepared for the real terror that’s about to unfold.

    Henry and Pushcart Prizes and have given him a devoted following. Now gathered here for the first time is a collection of his finest, gothic tales.A young man whose childhood hobby of collecting sea shells and birds’ nests takes a sinister turn when he becomes obsessed with acquiring his brother’s girlfriend, in “The Hoarder” (selected as one of the Best American Noir Stories of the Century). An archeologist summoned to attend his beloved sister’s funeral is astonished to discover it is not she who has died, but someone much closer to him, in “Gardener of Heart.” A blind motivational speaker has a crisis of faith when he suddenly regains his sight, only to discover life was better lived in the dark, in “Amazing Grace.”In all of these stories, readers will find themselves enthralled and captivated by one of the most potent voices in contemporary American fiction.

     At least that’s what you’ll tell yourself. You’ll say I’m a monster. A sicko. A deranged killer. But I am no monster, I am no sicko, and I am not deranged. I am simply a man who happens to enjoy murdering people in the most violent of ways. So don’t bother reading this if you have a weak stomach, get easily offended, or are simply not interested in the best way to dispose of a dead body. (It’s pigs, by the way. They eat ANYTHING.) My name is Gerald Brittle. I am a serial killer. And this is my memoir.

    She didn’t agree, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.She was all I thought about. She was my obsession.So, I watched. I studied.I toyed with her and I played my games. In her I’d found my perfect match, because she met every single one of my challenges with one of her own. She fought back and I loved it. All good things are worth fighting for, right?Trouble was, she thought it was all a game, but I would never give up. I saw something in her that made me crave more. What did she see in me?Cruelty.Savagery.A street soldier with a thirst for vengeance.I was a virus and she was immune. Or was she?Where I come from, they call me The Psycho.And I’m about to show the world exactly why.The Psycho is a Dark, New Adult standalone romance from Nikki J Summers. There are scenes of a violent and sexual nature in this story, therefore it is intended for readers of 18+ years. Please take note of the trigger warnings.

    You vow. We vow.Barrington University is home of the Lords, a secret society that requires their blood in payment. They are above all—the most powerful men in the world. They devote their lives to violence in exchange for power. And during their senior year, they are offered a chosen one.People think growing up with money is freeing, but I promise you, it’s not. My entire life has been planned out for me. I never got the chance to do what I wanted until Ryat Alexander Archer came along and gave me an option for a better life. He offered me what no one else ever had—freedom.I chose to be his. He made me believe that anyway, but it was just another lie. A way that the Lords manipulate you into doing what they want.After being sucked into the dark, twisted world of the Lords, I embraced my new role and allowed Ryat to parade me around like the trophy I was to him. But like all things, what started out as a game soon became a fight for survival. And the only way out was death.Things to know about The RitualIt is MFTRIGGER WARNINGS (Please see the author's note on the inside)J/P & OTT Hero (jealous/possessive & over the top)This is a 150K word dark romance and may contain triggers for some due to sexual situations, language, and violence.

    

    All aspects, all directions. On either side of Highway 62, the sand cast up visions of evaporated civilizations, dissolved castles that lay buried under the desert. Any human eye, goggled by a car’s windshield, can graft such fantasies onto the great Mojave. And the girl and the boy in the Dodge Charger were exceptionally farsighted. Mirages rose from the boulders, a flume of dream attached to real rock.And hadn’t their trip unfolded like a fairy tale? the couple later quizzed each other, recalling that strange day, their first in California, hiking among the enormous apricot boulders of Joshua Tree National Park. The girl had got her period a week early and was feeling woozy; the boy kept bending over to remove a pebble from his shoe, a phantom that he repeatedly failed to find. Neither disclosed these private discomforts. Each wanted the other to have the illusion that they might pause, anywhere, at any moment, and make love. And while both thought this was highly unlikely—not in this heat, not at this hour—the possibility kept bubbling up, every place they touched. This was the only true protection they’d brought with them as they walked deeper into the blue-gold Mojave.On the day they arrived in Joshua Tree, it was a hundred and . . .

    Everything’s in place for it to be. The perfect lines, the perfect souls, but you see, Justin thinks it’s a game. He thinks I’m his pawn, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Every move he makes, I’ll block him. Every time he thinks he’s about to seize me, I’ll run. Some men underestimate the power of the queen because they’re too busy playing king. They forget she’s the most powerful piece on the board. And love is not a game I’m apt at losing.What will it take for him to realize I’ll never be his pawn, but I’ll happily play his queen?JustinShe wants a love story. And while I’ve set it up just like I do my own stories, it’s not love I’m after, it’s the chase. Marisa thinks she can outplay me. Even though I’m always one step ahead of her, she keeps me on my toes, which is why don’t underestimate her. Not one bit, but it seems she forgets the game’s not over until the king is dead.And she’ll never kill me, because I’ll make her love me. And then, checkmate, I win.Love is not a game, but the chase certainly is.

    Palahniuk channels both Stephen King and John Cheever in this singularly sinister and hilarious short story, straight from the passive-aggressive front lines of modern marriage, where a wife's frustration, along with the family cat, become weapons of mass destruction.Rachel married Ted because he was uncomplicated and loyal. But he was also devoted to his wretched house (done up in black granite, black appliances, even black dishware) and his first love, an old, flatulent cat named Belinda Carlisle. Once Rachel becomes pregnant, Ted reluctantly agrees to move and give up the cat. But the house doesn't sell, and Belinda Carlisle still haunts their home: every day the creature becomes fatter and more malodorous. When the house burns to the ground in a freak conflagration and the couple's daughter, April, is born blind soon thereafter, the marriage is never the same again. Only on a business trip three years later does Rachel begin to reckon with the damage.In an Orlando motel room far from Ted and April, Rachel wonders: Is her simple-minded husband more vindictive and manipulative than even Rachel could have imagined? How far will she go to keep the upper hand—a bit of emotional and physical torture, perhaps? Will she win the battle, only to lose so much else?If all is fair in love and war, there are few contemporary writers better equipped than Palahniuk to travel the extremes, right to the chilling intersection of "I do" and "I'm damned."

    Those words conjure the image of a spider, an eight-legged creature with the red imprint of an hourglass on its abdomen.However, instead of speaking of an arachnid, of the resident of a spindly and dew-laden web, the people who whisper those words are talking about something much different.They’re talking about me.From what I’m told, I’m called the Black Widow because no man I’ve ever loved has survived.Yet, I have no memory of any of it.My new home leads me to the definition of another vague and meaningless word.It’s a place where I’m supposed to seek refuge.A place of retreat and security.It’s a place where I’m supposed to be kept safe because I’m sick.But the definition for this place is wrong and the word becomes meaningless when you’re tucked away and made silent by drugs and pretty white jackets.My name is Alexandra Sutton and this is the story of what happened when I was imprisoned inside an Asylum.

    I’ve decided to lay myself bare. To tell the truth for once in my hollow life, no matter how dark it gets. And I can assure you, it will get so dark that you’ll find yourself feeling around the blackened corners of my mind, seeking a door handle that isn’t there. Don’t mistake this for a confession. I neither seek forgiveness nor would I accept it. My sins are my own. They keep me company. Instead, this is the true tale of how I found her, how I stole her, and how I lost her. She was a damsel, one who already had her white knight. But every fairy tale has a villain, someone waiting in the wings to rip it all down. A scoundrel who will set the world on fire if that means he gets what he wants. That’s me. I’m the bad guy. Author's Note: This is a 90,000-word romance with dark themes and a HEA.

    

    Wealthy wives pay her to trap their husbands for blackmail. It's not honest work but it pays the bills. Desperate to clear her balance with the dangerous loan shark, Shadow, she takes on another dangerous job. When a woman named Onya pays Indigo well beyond her fee to trap her husband, Indigo says yes. But once she lays eyes on Onya's husband, billionaire Hendrix, she is thrown into a world of passion and deceit. Indigo breaks her cardinal rule by falling for Hendrix. Their affair is mired in secrets, drama and passion. Are you ready to get enthralled with this African American Romance stand-alone.

    Weather workers. Time benders. When two people so determined have opposing desires, it's hard to say who will win - or even what victory might look like. This stunning, haunting short story from rising star Alyssa Wong explores the depth and fierceness of love and the trauma of family.