One unfortunate decision had bought me a life sentence, serving time alongside the gang I’d worked years to avoid. My affiliation with Union 21 had wreaked havoc all around me.
Then came Diamond.
In a world filled with neon-pink lights, glitter, and rhinestones, she was a flawless gem. While she didn’t realize her worth, I recognized her value—priceless.
I’d stop at nothing to have her, even if that meant going against the most powerful drug lord around.
Friends come and go, but Diamond is forever.
I fell in love with Austin before I even knew what the word meant.
Miranda was the only girl who ever had a chance at owning my heart.
Defined by the land we grew up on, Mason Belle, Texas, wrote our story. And then it tore out the pages.
Six years later, Miranda had managed another escape. But this time, I refused to let her run.
We’ve been best friends since we were five: Masyn and me.
But nothing’s as simple as it seems.
Relationships change and so do people.
When innuendos and hints aren't enough, it’s time to confess.
I’m in love with my best friend.
…And I think I’m too late.
With a history like ours, the meaning of the word family tended to tangle into something unrecognizable. DNA and bloodlines didn’t tie us together, and neither did our last names. Various shades of grey blurred the branches of our twisted family tree.
I wasn’t her brother.
They weren’t my parents.
Not that it mattered…
She was off limits.
Portia was my friend.
Then my foster sister.
And she’d always be the love of my life.
I was done.
Done with men.
Women say it all the time; they get fed up, throw their hands in the air, and vow a life of celibacy—until the next chiseled chest comes into view and then they’re foaming at the mouth and wiping the drool from their chins. But this was different, I really meant it.
I’d been manhandled by the last pig that would ever bring his sausage near me. After one of the nastiest divorces in history, followed by some of the crudest and raunchiest dates, I’d decided to bat for the other team.
…At least I tried.
But creating the next Brat Pack hadn’t been on the agenda. Neither had Collier West. And I wasn’t prepared for finding true love at the end of my gal-pal tryst.
I couldn’t be anything other than a romantic at heart — it’s my nature, it’s who I am. But this isn’t a typical story of traditional love. It isn’t a fairy tale. No happily ever after neatly tied up with a shiny bow. It’s a memoir of the reality left behind in the wake of grief — the desolation, the resurrection, and final culmination life offers to the fallen.
This is a journey through love…the love of self, love of a friend, and sometimes love is ugly, messy —destructive.
My name is Bastian Thames…and this is my story.
A soaring career...
A fractured heart...
Left in shattered shards of stained glass.
Aspiring author, Callie Clark, finally achieves her most-coveted goal, landing a contract with a highly sought-after publishing company. Reeling from the pain of a broken heart, Callie puts her love life on hold.
Focused solely on her career, the dream she’s faithfully held onto becomes taunting, and the higher she climbs, the faster she falls.
When tragedy winds itself through triumph, Callie learns to open her heart again. But it might be too late when a visitor from her past resurfaces and threatens the dream she clings to.
One horrific mistake.
One lifetime of hell.
Everything I got was justified, and all I lost warranted. No matter where I went, the hell of my past followed. There was no forgiveness, no reparation—I would spend the rest of my days trapped in purgatory. His pain was mine.
And then came Dan.
Followed by hope.
And possibly redemption.
Gianna LeBron grew up in poverty. Destined to change her circumstances and her zip code, she rises up from the inner-city streets with an Ivy League education and affluent husband. A few short years later, she’s alone with three children, destitute and desperate.
Finding herself in the same hell she’d fought so hard to escape, and determined to find a solution, she compromises who she is. Selling her soul for the almighty dollar, she does what she has to do in order to provide for her children.
Caught between a secret love and her toddler’s unending need for medical care, Gianna’s forced to decide how far she’ll go to heal her daughter and save the man she loves.
It had to be a joke.
Any minute now, a van would drive up and Ashton Kutcher would slide the door open, laughing hysterically at my melodramatic performance on the front porch.
But nothing happened.
The words on the page jumbled into a toxic mess my brain refused to comprehend, much less accept.
Please consider this letter as a formal request to arrange a paternity test (DNA).
I barely remembered Chelsea Airy.
That wasn’t true—we’d gone out once, and we’d been friends for a while after. But I hadn’t heard so much as a peep from her since I’d gotten married. I’d reached out a handful of times, but she’d quit responding and fell off the face of the earth. There hadn’t been a text, an email, a phone call, not even a Facebook message, much less a stork in the last five years.
My wife could forgive a lot, but she’d never wanted children—much less another woman’s.