I showed up in backwater little Yazoo City Mississippi expecting to find solitude and a fresh start. I just left my wealthy, neglectful husband--with a couple million dollars belonging to him, I might add. When I got to Yazoo, though, I didn't find any solitude, that's for sure. I ended up in the arms of an oh so sexy young man named Tre McNabb. The problem? Tre is the preacher's son.

I fled New York with my heart breaking and a million questions. Foremost in my mind was whether Jeff would even see me after the colossal mess that New York turned out to be. I discovered the answer, but that only spawned even more questions, many of the yes or no variety...

Ever, These letters are often all that get me through week to week. Even if it’s just random stuff, nothing important, they’re important to me. Gramps is great, and I love working on the ranch. But…I’m lonely. I feel disconnected, like I’m no one, like I don’t belong anywhere. Like I’m just here until something else happens. I don’t even know what I want with my future. But your letters, they make me feel connected to something, to someone. I had a crush on you, when we first met. I thought you were beautiful. So beautiful. It was hard to think of anything else. Then camp ended and we never got together, and now all I have of you is these letters. S**t. I just told you I have a crush on you. HAD. Had a crush. Not sure what is anymore. A letter-crush? A literary love? That’s stupid. Sorry. I just have this rule with myself that I never throw away what I write and I always send it, so hopefully this doesn’t weird you out too much. I had a dream about you too. Same kind of thing. Us, in the darkness, together. Just us. And it was like you said, a memory turned into a dream, but a memory of something that’s never happened, but in the dream it felt so real, and it was more, I don’t even know, more RIGHT than anything I’ve ever felt, in life or in dreams. I wonder what it means that we both had the same dream about each other. Maybe nothing, maybe everything. You tell me. Cade ~ ~ ~ ~ Cade, We’re pen pals. Maybe that’s all we’ll ever be. I don’t know. If we met IRL (in real life, in case you’re not familiar with the term) what would happen? And just FYI, the term you used, a literary love? It was beautiful. So beautiful. That term means something, between us now. We are literary loves. Lovers? I do love you, in some strange way. Knowing about you, in these letters, knowing your hurt and your joys, it means something so important to me, that I just can’t describe. I need your art, and your letters, and your literary love. If we never have anything else between us, I need this. I do. Maybe this letter will only complicate things, but like you I have a rule that I never erase or throw away what I’ve written and I always send it, no matter what I write in the letter. Your literary love, Ever

We are the cast-offs, the forgotten, the broken; we are dark, dangerous men haunted by our violent pasts. The Guardian collects us, rehabilitates us, and gives us a new lease on life...if we follow a few, simple rules: Once you're in, there's no going back; never take a life; loyalty to the brotherhood above all. Seems simple, right? It is, until SHE stumbles into Sin

**Madame X invites you to test the limits of control in this provocative new novel from* New York Times *bestselling author Jasinda Wilder.** *My name is Madame X. I’m the best at what I do. And you’d do well to follow my rules...* Hired to transform the uncultured, inept sons of the wealthy and powerful into decisive, confident men, Madame X is a master of the art of control. With a single glance she can cut you down to nothing, or make you feel like a king. But there is only one man who can claim her body—and her soul. Undone time and again by his exquisite dominance, X craves and fears his desire in equal measure. And while she longs for a different path, X has never known anything or anyone else—until now...

Love is never easy. It's especially difficult when you love a Marine. I knew the risk when I said "I do", but I chose to love anyway.  In a flash, he was taken from me, and now I'm alone. Struggling and desperate. There's no hope, no future. Just the endless cycle of day-to-day survival. But a letter returned could change all of that.  Hope and love often come from the last place you'd think to look, when you least expect it.  * *   * I was a lost, broken soul, tortured by the memories of what I'd endured. When I visited that old farmhouse in rural Texas, all I wanted to do was return the letter. Keep a promise to a friend.  What I got was healing. Understanding. The chance to find a measure of peace when all I've ever known is war. We both lost everything. But in each other, we found something worth fighting for.

I called, and Luca came. And then he came again, and I came with him. The problem isn't sex. The problem is love, and If I'm ready for it again so soon.