Who Are The Main Characters In Full Bloom?

Bought as a defect. Destined as his mate. As the last heir of the Wolf Kings, Grey Stormborn carries the burden of a dying kingdom. Bound by an ancient curse to the Everlasting Tree, his people are losing their ability to shift, their fertility, and their future. Only a rare Rona—a woman blessed with the power of flowers—can save them. Desperate, Grey purchases the only Rona he can afford. Maya is mute, timid, and utterly useless by every measure. Her flowers bloom only to wither moments later. Forced into a one-year marriage contract, Grey plans to fulfill his duty, secure an heir, and part ways forever. But beneath Maya's silence lies a devastating secret. When dragons descend upon the kingdom, she unleashes a terrifying magic capable of commanding forests and bringing armies to their knees. Suddenly, the "defective" bride becomes the kingdom's greatest treasure—and the obsession of the ruthless king who once sold her. Now Grey must protect the woman he never wanted... before he loses the mate he never knew he needed.

In Gangnam, Seoul's district known for it's wealth and glamour, a series of mysterious disappearances and brutal murders occurs. The criminal is quickly called by public the 'Cherry Blossom Reaper' because of his choice for young, beautiful women and fact, that the day after the kidnapping, in the place of the disappearance, he leaves a small bouquet made of artificial cherry blossoms, slightly sprinkled with the victim's blood. When the daughter of the well-known fashion house CEO disappear, the case is transferred to Kim Soo Min, a female detective from Seoul's Investigation Departament. But as it turns out, the case is not easy to solve, even for such a talented detective as her. The list of suspects is getting longer and evidence does not clearly indicate any of them. [ IMPORTANT: This story is entirely fictional, just like its characters. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. ]

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker.

Violet's world just changed and she's not the only one. After caught fleeing on the day of her arranged marriage, Violet must now live with her future husband, Leo Whitlock. As Violet deals with her parent's death, Leo is pressured to convince her to marry him. They soon find themselves seeking comfort in each other's company, but their family secret's might block out any warmth. Love will bloom, weeds will perish and a cold day might end them all.

"“Funny, charming, and utterly captivating! I devoured this sparkling read.” - New York Times bestselling author Annika Martin The man I hate might be the first one to pluck my petals… Confession: I, Dandelion “Dani” Wright, am twenty-six years old and have yet to be deflowered. No man has hosed my hyacinth. Fondled my freesia. Diddled my daffodil. You get the point. My excuse? I was too busy running my family’s flower shop and winning floral design competitions. Suddenly that whole pesky virginity thing becomes a big deal when Jacob West walks back into my life. The boy I once loved. The same boy who humiliated me when he stood me up for prom. This Jacob is no boy, though: he’s all man now—confident, charming, and so sexy my metaphorical blossoms are getting scorched. I can almost forget I’m supposed to hate him forever. Almost. To make things worse, he’s my main competition now, since he took over his parents’ flower shop. If I give into this sizzling attraction between us, it could jeopardize everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve. But if I’m not careful, he might not just be the first man to pluck my petals—he might also be the only man to capture my heart."

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.