Bibliophobia

Some people have a good life, some people have a great childhood, well some people have a roof on top of their head. But not me, I’m different than most people, I lived in my car, worked in the local library, I was no one, add to that being a little doesn’t really help my case at all. It was all going to downward to hell, until I met them, I’ve met her first, then her husband and they wanted me, homeless, bookworm and all. This our story, our adventures, and our love. Contains ddlg and mdlg, you’ve been warned. Apologies for any misspelling and grammar mistakes.

"Don't move," he trailed his kisses to my neck after saying it, his hands were grasping my hands, entwining his fingers with mine, putting them above my head. His woodsy scent of cologne invades my senses and I was aroused by the simple fact that his weight was slightly crushing me. ***** When a famous author keeps on receiving emails from his stalker, his agent says to let it go. She says it's good for his popularity. But when the stalker gets too close, will he run and call the police for help? Is it a thriller? Is it a comedy? Is it steamy romance? or... is it just a disaster waiting to happen? ***** Add the book to your library, read and find out as another townie gets his spotlight and hopefully his happy ever after 😘 ***** Warning! R-Rated for 18+ due to strong, explicit language and sexual content*

It was only a sixty-second dare: Kiss the campus "Ghost" and keep my crown. I never expected that the boy in the thrift-store hoodie would be the one to ruin me. To the students at St. Jude’s, Elias Thorne is a scholarship nobody. To me, he was social suicide—a boy beneath my notice. But when I pressed my lips to his, the world didn’t just catch fire. It exploded. One night of frantic, impulsive mistakes in the back of a car was supposed to be my dark secret. I was the Ice Queen; I was supposed to wake up, wash the taste of him off my tongue, and go back to being perfect. I was wrong. Elias isn't a ghost anymore. He’s a shadow that follows me into every room. He has my secret caught on camera, and he has a hunger in his eyes that scares me more than the scandal. He doesn't want my apology, and he doesn't want my money. He wants me. Now, every time I see him in the hallway, my heart hammers against my ribs—not with disgust, but with a terrifying, suffocating craving. I’m supposed to be the one sitting on the throne, but Elias Thorne is the one holding the crown... and he’s not letting go. He was the nerd I was dared to kiss. Now, I'm the obsession he's determined to keep.

You like it rough. You like it wrong. You like your pleasure soaked in power and dripping with sin. Welcome to The Alpha’s Smutty Library, a filthy collection of scorching werewolf erotica where the rules are simple: the Alpha takes what he wants, and you’ll be begging him to take more. These aren’t gentle mates or sweet romances. These are dominant Alphas who knot deep, ruin pretty little things, and leave them shattered and addicted. These are broken, angry, powerful women who swear they’ll never submit… until they’re bent over, dripping, and screaming the Alpha’s name. Every story is shameless. You’ll find hate-fucking that turns into dangerous obsession, revenge deals sealed with raw public claiming, drunken nights that become one-week contracts of total surrender, and orgasms so intense they’ll wreck you for any lesser man. Every scene is soaked. Every Alpha is feral. So if you’re tired of polite romance and you’re craving teeth, claws, knots, and filthy dominance… open the book, baby. Come get wrecked. The Alpha’s Smutty Library is now open. Lock the door. Spread your legs. It only gets wetter, darker, and dirtier from here.

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?

For five years, Mira poured her obsession into The Reckoning of Caelen Mors—a dark fantasy about a ruthless duke and the woman he becomes dangerously fixated on. At 2:47 AM, exhausted and alone, she died at her laptop. Her final words still glowed on the screen: "Duke Caelen finally showed her his true face. It was nothing like she imagined." She woke as Isadora Vess—the secondary character from her manuscript—in a silk bed, in a monster's house, with servants calling her by a name she'd invented. The problem: Mira remembers writing this world. She knows every dark secret. She knows how the story should end. Except her memories are fractured. The manuscript was never finished. And the characters have evolved without her input, making choices she never wrote, saying things she never scripted. Worse—Duke Caelen knows she's different. He's been waiting for her. Across seventeen timelines, he's seen her arrive at this exact moment. And in three of them, everything burned. Now Isadora must navigate a world she created but no longer controls, surrounded by men who each want to use her—a charming prince offering escape, a dark count offering power, and a villain offering the only thing that might be true: the answer to why she's here, and what happens when an author gets trapped in her own story. Because in every version where Isadora arrives, the empire falls. And Caelen has been waiting a very long time to see which ending she'll choose this time.