Ashe

After being rejected by her fated mate, Olivia thinks she'll never find love again until two dragons pull up to the dinner where she works. Jay and Killian know that Olivia was meant to be theirs and they're both willing to do anything it takes to show her. Olivia agrees to be mated to the dragons. They'll give her everything that she's always dreamed of, everything that's she's craved, someone to belong to. Olivia will be theirs in mind and body. What happens when the man who rejected her and broke her heart shows back up? Despite rejecting her, Olivia can't help but still be drawn to Nick. He's the father of her child and even though she doesn't want to, she can't help the way she's drawn to him still. Secrets come to light but will Killian and Jay be willing to share Olivia or will they push her into her mate's arms? Or will the dragons end up claiming them both?

She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked s*x club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith, the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room, Manhattan's most exclusive masked club, she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you."