What Are Books Like The Study Of Language?

“Tell me,” he said, low and dangerous. “Tell me who this cunt belongs to.” “You,” I panted, spreading wider, shameless. “It’s yours—please, Micaiah—” “Come on my cock,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “Show me how much you love being fucked by me.” ★⁠☆ Maliya comes home after two years abroad, hoping everything she ran from has finally cooled. But the moment she steps through the door, she realizes nothing has changed—especially not the one person she never wanted to face again. Micaiah. Her stepbrother. Her almost. Her reason for disappearing. She plans to keep her distance, start classes, rebuild her life… until her parents drop the news: they’ve transferred her to a new university, the one where Micaiah works as a professor. And they’re leaving for a three-month honeymoon, meaning she and Micaiah will be living in the same house. Alone. Maliya tells herself she can handle it. But Micaiah has his own ideas about unfinished business. Three months isn’t long… unless you’re stuck with the one person you swore you’d never fall for again.

All I wanted was a one-night stand with a random guy, just to get back at my boyfriend, who had insulted me for never being able to feel anything with him. So, I left Brooklyn with my best friend, Ashley, to spend spring break in Cabo. The deal was simple: have fun like a normal young adult and hook up with any guy... just to prove a point. I ended up in the bed of a man with the most mesmerizing eyes I’d ever seen—a man I knew absolutely nothing about. He pleased me in ways I didn’t think were possible. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered brush of his hands against my skin ignited a hunger I never knew I had. But when I woke up the next morning, the stranger was gone. I thought it was just a forgotten one-night stand, someone I’d never see again. Until I found out he was my new statistics professor. It was supposed to be one meaningless night, but now I crave him in ways I never knew were possible. Even knowing he could be my downfall, I still want him. Still crave him. Still want him to ruin me in whatever way he desires.

He was my professor, the Alpha of the Silver Crest Pack. Feared by every wolf on campus. In class, he was a sucker for rules, but outside, he was the kind of savage who obeyed no one. Especially not the Moon Goddess. I ran to this University to escape and arranged marriage, find freedom and my true mate. I wasn't expecting him, and I definitely wasn't expecting to snap at the one man who could order my head served on a platter to him. Then I realized he was mine. Mine to own, my mate! But he was the same man who helped destroy my family and Pack. The same Alpha who had murdered my brother without a second thought. The rules said we couldn't touch. I wouldn't reject me, I couldn't resist gin and every time another man looked at me, his wolf edged closer to savage. Sleeping with him would ruin everything. So why did I want it so badly? He was my curse, my punishment, and my aching obsession.

Love is something to never be ashamed of, it's okay to fall in love even if that person is someone of the same sex. That's the way I feel towards the person who showed me how to love. I love him, I want him and I want to hold him but the problem is... His married. Leslie Campbell is a young omega who is married to a beta. He is a book enthusiast who became an editor for a successful publishing company and he is assigned to his favorite author, Azrael Mitsuki Bethan, a Japanese American writer who paints the world in white and black. However, there is one serious problem... Azrael hates omegas especially male omegas. Leslie is determined to be Azrael's editor but their relationship becomes complicated when forbidden emotions start to develop leaving Leslie in a state to choose between his marriage and his soulmate while Azrael battles with his heart and his conscience. Heartwarming relationship between the alpha who desires to hate and the omega who knows only how to love.

The novel is mainly about the forgotten British poet/writer named C. J Richards who lived in Burma/Myanmar in colonial times and he believed himself as a Burmophile. He served as I.C.S (Indian Civil Servant) and when he retired from I.C.S service, he was a D.C (District Commissioner) and he left for England a year before Burma gained its independence in 1948. He came to Burma in 1920 to work in civil service after passing the hardest I.C.S examination. He wrote several books on Burma and contributed many monthly articles to Guardian Magazine published in Burma from 1953 to 1974 or 1975. Though he wrote several books which had much literary merit to both communities, Britain and Burma (Myanmar), people failed to recognize him. The story has two parts: one part is set in the contemporary Yangon (then called Rangoon) in 2016 context and a young literary enthusiast named “Lin” found out unexpectedly the forgotten writer’s poetry book and there is surely a good deal of time gap that led him into a quest to know more about the author’s life. The setting is quite different comparing to colonial Burma and independence Myanmar (Burma), early twentieth century and 2016 which is a transitional period in Myanmar. The writer’s life is fictionalized in the novel and most of the facts are taken from his personal stories and other reference books. It is a kind of historical novel with a twist and it has comparatively constructed the two different periods in Myanmar history to convince readers, locally and abroad more about history, authorship, humanity, colonialism, and transitional development in Myanmar today.

One night, I was a girl seeking vengeance in a velvet mask. He was the stranger who took me against a cold stone wall, his touch a silent, lethal promise. Now, he is Caspian Blackwood—the most feared architecture professor at Aethelgard. When my "perfect" boyfriend, Dominic Calloway, cheats on me and sabotages my degree, Caspian offers a lifeline with a razor-thin edge: Be his silent, nude model for thirty days. The rules are absolute. I must wear a silk mask and a weighted collar. I must never speak. I must hold the poses he demands until my muscles scream for mercy. In the lecture hall, he ignores me with arctic indifference. In the studio, his gaze is a physical weight, stripping me faster than his hands ever could. But as the charcoal scratches against the paper, I realize the "deal" isn't just for art. It’s for the soul I accidentally gave him in the dark. Will the deal destroy his career, or consume me first?