Emma Mountford

Saints and Sinners - She was the light to my dark. The saint to my sinner. with her innocent eyes and devilish curves. A Madonna that was meant to be admired but never touched. Until someone took that innocence from her. She left. The darkness in my heart was finally complete. I avenged her, I killed for her, but she never came back. Until I saw her again. An angel dancing around a pole for money. She didn't know I owned that club. She didn't know I was watching. This time I won't let her escape. I will make her back into the girl I knew. Whether she likes it or not. Judge and Jury- I can't stop watching her. I'm not even sure I want to. Taylor Lawson, blonde, beautiful, and totally oblivious to how much dangers she's in. She's also the one juror in my upcoming murder trial that hasn't been bought. The one who can put me behind bars for a very long time. I know I should execute her. After all that's what I do. I am the Judge. I eliminate threats to The Family. And Taylor is a threat. But I don't want to kill her. Possessing her, making her love me seems like a much better plan for this particular Juror. Book 3- Coming Soon! These stories can be read alone but for the full experience it's best to read Savage Sons first!

Havoc - Havoc A sweet like honey accent and a pair of hips I couldn't keep my eyes off. That's how it started. Darcie Summers was playing the part of my old lady to keep herself safe but we both know it's more than that. There's something real between us. Something passionate and primal.Something my half brother's stupidity will rip apart unless I can get to her in time. Darcie A pretend outlaw boyfriend to keep me safe until I could go home. It all sounded so easy. Until I started to get to know him. Until he kissed me. And then I was lost. I need Havoc more than I've ever needed another person. Especially now, when my ex fiances betrayal threatens my very life. Cyber - Cyber Everyone has that ONE person that got away, right? The one who you wished you had treated differently. For me, that girl has always been Iris. So when she turns up on Savage Sons territory needing help, I am the man for the job. The only man for the job. Every time I look at her I see the beautiful girl I left behind but Iris is no longer that girl. What I put into motion years ago has shattered her into a million hard little pieces. And if I'm not careful they will cut my heart out. Iris He still sees the weak girl I was years ago, I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at me. Cyber thinks I need saving. He thinks he can save the day. But there's one thing he hasn't worked out yet....He's the villain in this story... Fang- Fang. The first time I saw her, she was sat on the side of the road drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. The second time was when I hit her dog. I had promised myself never to get involved with another woman after the death of my wife. But Gypsy Rose was different. Sweeter, kinder and with a mouth that could make a sailor blush. She was also too good for me. I am Fang, President of the Savage Sons. I am not a good man, I've taken more lives than I care to admit even to myself. I am the total opposite of the free-spirited Gypsy Rose. But I'm going to keep her anyway. Gypsy Rose Relocating was meant to be a fresh start. A chance to start over. It wasn't a lot to ask, Until the president of the local motorcycle club started taking an interest in me. I shouldn't want Fang. He is everything I despise in a man. Too alpha, too loud and worst of all he knows how to press all of my buttons. But he isn't the only man after me. And when my past catches up with me, not even the president of the Savage Sons MC will be able to escape it. Monster- Monster They call me Monster, and no one can blame them. I am the man the Savage Sons call in when they want something really unsavoury doing. My job was meant to be simple, seduce the police chiefs daughter and leak the pictures to the press. No biggie. Except now I've kissed, touched and tasted her. I can't get enough. She might have the face of an angel but I'm not fooled. Angela is as dark and twisted as I am. The devil in her might just give my monster a run for its money. Angela He calls me angel but that couldn't be further from the truth. I am no angel. A darkness lives inside of me. One that rivals even his. Monster should be careful. Theres no going back when you get into bed with the devil. Hansel - Hansel I didn't mean to say the words; they just fell out of my mouth. And the moment I said them, I wished I could take them back. I was angry at her, and she was always angry at me. We had wanted to hurt each other. That was why the words came screaming out of my mouth. And I knew... I just knew that I had gone too far. The way she recoiled from me was a punch to the gut. I tried, I really tried to form the words to make her believe I hadn't meant it. But by then it was too late. The front door had already slammed shut behind her. I knew it was the end of our marriage, the end of the life we had always dreamt of having with one another. The end of me and her. One sentence and my life imploded before my eyes. And now she is back and embroiled in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with a killer. And she's firmly on his radar... the worst thing though? The killer just might be someone we know. Who am I meant to trust, if I can't trust, my brothers in The Savage Sons? I won't fail her though, not ever again. When this is all over, she will be mine again and this time I won't be letting her go. It's time we got our happily ever after.

On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up. As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress. The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me. The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one. With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered. I chose the one man they never expected. I chose his father, the Don himself.

My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine. Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family. To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset. They both thought I was a broken doll they could control. I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice. She sang it, and now her career is over. Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground.

Becoming a bride to settle a debt was never part of my dreams. Yet, my stepbrother's betrayal and a trap party turned my life upside down, shattering my illusions of a joyful marriage. Now, I'm faced with the harsh reality of being married to a ruthless Mafia boss, Alessio Marino. Can I trust his promises, or will my situation be worse than the abuse I endured from my stepbrother? With love stripped from my wedding vows, all I can do is cling to hope for God's mercy and summon the strength to navigate this perilous new life.

At my boyfriend's poorest moment, I suddenly broke up with him. Later, he became a Don in the Mafia and married me by any means necessary. Everyone said he loved me to the bone. But every night, he brought different women home, deliberately trying to provoke me. I asked no questions, shed no tears, and never disturbed his trysts with his mistresses. He went crazy with rage instead, kissing me fiercely and demanding, "Why aren't you jealous?" He didn't know I was sick. Dying. While he was furiously taking his revenge on me, I was slowly walking toward death.

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts. The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage. I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter. But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous. Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared. He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground. With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes. "Take me with you."

On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news. He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city. The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.” For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets. My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me. So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts. He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked. He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree. He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.

I watched my husband, the most feared Capo in New York, sign away our marriage with the same cold indifference he usually reserved for ordering a hit. The nib of his Montblanc pen scratched against the paper, drowning out the rain hitting the coffee shop window. He didn't bother to read a single word. He thought he was signing routine shipping manifests for the family business. In reality, he was signing the "Dissolution of Union" papers I had hidden beneath the cover sheet. He was too distracted to check. His eyes were glued to his encrypted phone, frantically texting Sofia—the widow, the tragic beauty, the woman who had haunted our marriage for three years. "Done," he grunted, tossing the stack into his armored SUV without even glancing at me. "Business is concluded, Elena. We leave." Moments later, his phone rang with her special emergency tone. His demeanor shifted from cold boss to frantic protector instantly. "Driver, divert. She needs me," he roared. He looked at me with zero affection and ordered, "Get out, Elena. Luca will take you home." He kicked me out of the car into the pouring rain to rush to his mistress, completely unaware he had just legally granted me my freedom. I stood on the curb, shivering but smiling for the first time in years. By the time the Don realizes he just signed his own divorce, I will be a ghost in San Francisco. And he will have nothing left but his shipping logs and his regret.

My grandfather sold me to a man named Maverick to settle his gambling debts. I stood on the private platform at Union Station, a human payment waiting to be collected. But he never came. An hour later, his assistant called to say the deal was off. I was told to disappear by morning or face the consequences. My family blamed me for their ruin and threw me out onto the street. Homeless and disowned, I had no choice but to take a low-level job at Prosperity Group, the biggest investment firm in Chicago. I needed to survive. I never understood why he rejected me. I had followed every rule, worn the red dress he demanded, and waited like a lamb for slaughter. Why would he agree to save my family only to destroy us at the last second? On my first day, I was called into the CEO's office. The man behind the desk was Damien Maddox, the city's most ruthless billionaire. He looked at me with a chilling familiarity. He was the man who had bought me. And he was the man who had thrown me away.

I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood. For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe. On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident. Donovan didn't hesitate. He forced me to drain my blood to save her life. Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean. He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her. He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella. He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night. When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth. He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman. Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man. He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy. I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing. "It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her."