Everyone says opposites attract. And they must be right, because there’s no logical reason why I’m so drawn to Colin Fitzgerald. I don’t usually go for tattoo-covered, video-gaming, hockey-playing nerd-jocks who think I’m flighty and superficial. His narrow view of me is the first strike against him. It doesn’t help that he’s buddy-buddy with my brother. And that his best friend has a crush on me. And that I just moved in with them. Oh, did I not mention we’re roommates? I suppose it doesn’t matter. Fitzy has made it clear he’s not interested in me, even though the sparks between us are liable to burn our house down. I’m not the kind of girl who chases after a man, though, and I’m not about to start. I’ve got my hands full dealing with a new school, a sleazy professor, and an uncertain future. So if my sexy brooding roomie wises up and realizes what he’s missing? He knows where to find me.

My life has been a series of bad decisions. Marrying an abusive man was the first... but falling for a dangerous inmate where I’m a nurse may be the worst. He’s brutal, heartless, and twisted. But he’s also the only one to notice the bruises on my skin. His forbidden touch becomes my addiction. His drugging kisses my obsession. After I learn the truth about why he’s in prison, I try to escape, but but he finds me. Now I'm his prisoner.

My life has been a series of bad decisions. Marrying an abusive man was the first... but falling for a dangerous inmate where I’m a nurse may be the worst. He’s brutal, heartless, and twisted. But he’s also the only one to notice the bruises on my skin. His forbidden touch becomes my addiction. His drugging kisses my obsession. After I learn the truth about why he’s in prison, I try to escape, but but he finds me. Now I'm his prisoner.

Boston’s most infamous femme fatale meets her match in a dangerously mild Englishman who has vowed to never marry in this romantic standalone from Washington Post bestselling author L.J. Shen Emmabelle Penrose has cruised through life never needing a man, a plan that has worked stunningly well until about five minutes ago, when she decided she must have a baby. Devon Whitehall is 6’2” of premium DNA, financial security, and British royal titles. Best of all, he fears the one thing she dreads the most: getting hitched. Emmabelle figures it’s a no-brainer when Devon offers his services—sperm and involvement in her future child’s life. What begins as an innocent, modern-family arrangement, quickly erodes into a web of lies, dark pasts, and unfurled secrets. Inside this chaos, Emmabelle and Devon are forced to face the awful truth—they are capable of love. Even worse, they might feel it toward each other.

Boston’s most infamous femme fatale meets her match in a dangerously mild Englishman who has vowed to never marry in this romantic standalone from Washington Post bestselling author L.J. Shen Emmabelle Penrose has cruised through life never needing a man, a plan that has worked stunningly well until about five minutes ago, when she decided she must have a baby. Devon Whitehall is 6’2” of premium DNA, financial security, and British royal titles. Best of all, he fears the one thing she dreads the most: getting hitched. Emmabelle figures it’s a no-brainer when Devon offers his services—sperm and involvement in her future child’s life. What begins as an innocent, modern-family arrangement, quickly erodes into a web of lies, dark pasts, and unfurled secrets. Inside this chaos, Emmabelle and Devon are forced to face the awful truth—they are capable of love. Even worse, they might feel it toward each other.

“Maybe we were never meant for each other. But that night at the carnival, when you showed me who you were, I figured out who I wanted to be.” The most important thing I’d ever read was scribbled on the door of a portable restroom, engraved into plastic at a carnival on the outskirts of Boston. Lust lingers, love stays. Lust is impatient, love waits. Lust burns, love warms. Lust destroys, but love? Love kills. Maybe it was always my destiny to fall in love with a monster. When other kids stayed awake at night fearing the pointy-toothed beast hiding in their closet, I longed to see mine. I wanted to feed it, domesticate it, understand it. Sam and I were only allowed to love each other in the dark. Once our story unfolded, and the truth came to light, I was the one to cut the cord. My name is Aisling Fitzpatrick, and I have a confession to make. Sam Brennan is not the only monster in this story.

“Maybe we were never meant for each other. But that night at the carnival, when you showed me who you were, I figured out who I wanted to be.” The most important thing I’d ever read was scribbled on the door of a portable restroom, engraved into plastic at a carnival on the outskirts of Boston. Lust lingers, love stays. Lust is impatient, love waits. Lust burns, love warms. Lust destroys, but love? Love kills. Maybe it was always my destiny to fall in love with a monster. When other kids stayed awake at night fearing the pointy-toothed beast hiding in their closet, I longed to see mine. I wanted to feed it, domesticate it, understand it. Sam and I were only allowed to love each other in the dark. Once our story unfolded, and the truth came to light, I was the one to cut the cord. My name is Aisling Fitzpatrick, and I have a confession to make. Sam Brennan is not the only monster in this story.

"I’m unequivocally, irrevocably head over heels in love with Cillian Fitzpatrick. Filled with Shen’s trademark wit, soul searing angst and emotional poignancy, The Villain is a deeply satisfying story of patience, acceptance, perseverance and love. Hands down a top 2020 must read! - Helena Hunting, New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author. Cruel. Coldblooded. Hades in a Brioni suit. Cillian Fitzpatrick has been dubbed every wicked thing on planet earth. To the media, he is The Villain. To me, he is the man who (reluctantly) saved my life. Now I need him to do me another, small solid. Bail me out of the mess my husband got me into. What’s a hundred grand to one of the wealthiest men in America, anyway? Only Cillian doesn’t hand out free favors. The price for the money, it turns out, is my freedom. Now I’m the eldest Fitzpatrick brother’s little toy. To play, to mold, to break. Too bad Cillian forgot one, tiny detail. Persephone wasn’t only the goddess of spring; she was also the queen of death. He thinks I’ll buckle under the weight of his mind games. He is about to find out the most lethal poison is also the sweetest.