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Adrian Vale is a 24-year-old young and strikingly charismatic English professor at Blackwood College. Despite his strict reputation in the classroom and his sharp intolerance for laziness, he remains one of the most admired lecturers on campus, with almost every female student secretly crushing on him. Yet behind his calm authority and flawless image, Adrian is fiercely private and completely uninterested in relationships. ‎ ‎Ryder, 21, is a third-year student at the same college and a rising hockey player known for his talent, arrogance, and troublemaking streak. He’s not a freshman anymore, and his confidence has only grown with time—along with his reputation for challenging authority whenever it suits him. To most people, Ryder is just another cocky athlete with too much freedom and not enough discipline. ‎ ‎Everything changes when Ryder and his friend make a reckless bet—one that challenges Ryder to break Professor Vale’s unshakable control, push him past his limits, and get under his skin in ways no student has ever managed before. Ryder and Professor Vale cross paths in a way neither of them can ignore. What begins as irritation, defiance, and constant clashes in and out of the classroom slowly turns into something far more dangerous. The tension between them is undeniable, blurring the line between hatred and desire. ‎ ‎But at Blackwood College, relationships between students and lecturers are strictly forbidden. One wrong move could destroy Adrian’s career and end Ryder’s future in hockey. Still, neither of them seems willing—or able—to walk away. ‎

Between the pages of an enchanted book, the cursed werewolves have been trapped for centuries. Their fate now rests in the hands of Verena Seraphine Moon, the last descendant of a powerful witch bloodline. But when she unknowingly summons Zoren Bullet, the banished werewolf prince, to her world, their lives become intertwined in a dangerous dance of magic and romance. As the line between friend and foe blurs, they must unravel the mysteries of the cursed book before it's too late. The moon will shine upon their journey, but will it lead them to salvation or destruction?

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

“I was born to be property… until I ran. Marked, hunted, and betrayed by the only pack I called home, I stumbled into a sanctuary I never imagined. The Alpha who saved me is dangerous, scarred… and forbidden. He can’t protect me from my past—or the war I’ll ignite. I thought survival was enough… but now I want revenge. Will I win my freedom, or will love become my cage?”

Sophia Parks, a kind woman is unknowingly marked by her ex-boyfriend Vincent Mathis. After almost being killed by him and scarred horribly. Sophia runs from her past to a small town, hoping for a new lease on life. Once there she gains the interest of Faelon, a dark angel assigned to the town to watch the reapers collecting souls. Falling in love with a human was the last thing he intended to do but Sophia is different. Sophia doesn't know that she is a demon-marked sacrifice for the demons hell-bent on causing Armageddon. A twisted tale of angels and demons and a forbidden love that is destined by the fates. A different type of love story with an imperfect female lead, a inlikely love story, trigger warnings, foul language, and intimacy