For years, the dungeon beneath my bedroom taught me what happened to men who defied my father. Then they dragged in the Irishman—blindfolded, beaten, and chained—and, for the first time, the dungeon held a man who refused to beg, bargain, or break.

My father could hurt and humiliate him, but he couldn’t make him kneel.

For the first time in my life, hope had a voice—and it was Irish, furious, and defiant.

“I went from a career that was on track, a boyfriend who I thought was total husband material, and a past that was neatly tucked away where it belonged…to this.” I glanced around the room, holding my hands out in a helpless gesture. “Jobless, single, hitching rides with strangers. And a past that’s now the only future I have.” I laughed bitterly. “Sometimes fate’s a little bitch.”

~Noelle Nichols, Christmas Cancellation

How could there be a God?

I wanted to believe. I needed to believe. But when the holy were the abusers, when the righteous sold their children, when the system protected predators—what kind of God allowed that?

The devil outside that door had never lied to me.

He was the type of man I should fear, should hate—but I couldn’t.

He never pretended to be anything he wasn’t.

~Scarlett Hayes, Eyes of the Unholy

I was a man, and she felt like every bad decision I’d ever enjoyed making.

A dangerous escape, bullets in the air, and Lachlan still manages to wreck Isabella with two words.

“Good girl.”

Under any other circumstances, those two words would have done terrible things to my concentration.

At the moment, I was mostly trying not to get shot.

Eyes never lie, and hers told me she’d just bet her life on my word. Maybe it was courage. Maybe desperation. Maybe fate had finally decided to put someone worth protecting in my path. Whatever had brought a beautiful woman to her knees between mine with my freedom in her hand, I knew one thing with absolute certainty: I would die before I let her regret choosing me.

Just as he’d predicted, my body felt ruined for future men, spoiled by the touch of the sexy doctor.

~Samantha Sheridan, Night Shift

In that split second when I locked eyes with this devastatingly lethal masterpiece of untamed beauty—mine searching to understand, hers hardened in resolve—I knew one thing with absolute clarity: she wasn’t the kind of woman a man walked away from unscathed. She fought like a demon, looked like a damn dream, and if I had any sense, I’d focus on survival instead of how much I wanted to pin her down for entirely different reasons. Whether I made it out of this fight or not, I was already a goner. She wasn’t just dangerous—she was the kind of trouble men lost themselves in.

~Braxton Thorin, Mission Shift

Whatever restraint he’d been holding onto fractured, and those eyes of the unholy turned murderous, setting my blood on fire with equal parts fear and hunger.

~Scarlett Hayes, Eyes of the Unholy

“It’s strange learning where you came from after you’ve already become who you are.”

Lachlan was quiet for a moment.

“Blood can tell you where you came from, Mouse. Doesn’t mean anyone gets to decide where you go next.”