Does UCLA Powell Library Host Author Signings For Novelists?

After I found my bf kissing his "childhood friend", I got drunk in a bar and my best friend ordered a skilled call boy for me. He was indeed skilled and crazy hot. I left cash and ran away the next morning. Later, I ran into the "call boy" in my classroom and found he's in fact my new Professor. Gradually, I realized there was something different about him... “You forgot something.” He gave me a grocery bag in front of everyone with a poker face.“What—” I began to ask, but he was already walking away. The other students in the room were staring at me questionably, wondering what he had just handed me. I glanced inside the bag and instantly shut it, feeling the blood draining from my body. It was the bra and money I had left at his place.

“I, Alpha Gabriel Abbott, banish you, Paige Abbott, from Sky Moon Pack as my daughter and a member of this pack.” **** “You're a disgrace to this pack. I can't have you as my mate. I, Victor Creek, reject you, Paige Abbott, as my future mate and wife.” **** From princess to pauper, Paige’s life took a different turn when her father publicly accused her of seducing him, which led to her banishment. Rejected by her betrothed mate due to the banishment, she moved to the human world, and there she met a stranger at her workplace on an auspicious night, and they had a passionate, unforgettable night together. As Paige faced her new life, she found out she was pregnant, and the father of the baby was her ex. But that wasn't the beginning; Paige discovered that the stranger she had spent the night with was her true mate. And to her surprise, her true mate was no other than Azriel King, the ruthless Alpha King.

How much could an Alpha compensate a woman before the compensation started to look like a joke? Kaelan Blackthorne was very good at compensating me. He was rich enough to own mines, ports, a pharmaceutical empire, and half a financial district. He was also the strongest Alpha the Blackthorn Pack had produced in centuries. And I was his unmarked mate. For three years, every time he postponed our mate ceremony to comfort Vera, his widowed sister-in-law, he sent me another gift. A blue diamond necklace. A room of couture gowns. His mother’s platinum crown. Every time a velvet box arrived at my door, Vera sent me a video. [So what if he buys you pretty things? I’m the one he stays with when the moon rises.] [You get his guilt. I get his time.] I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I didn’t grab his sleeve and ask why he was leaving me behind again. When Kaelan postponed the ceremony for the sixth time, he finally promised it would happen in three days. This time, I only picked the most expensive crown on the list and handed him the transfer papers. He signed without looking. For the first time in days, his eyes softened. “After the ceremony, Eve, I’ll take you to the Full Moon Vow Ball. Every pack will know you’re mine.” I smiled, put the papers away, and said, “Okay.” I just didn’t tell him what he had really signed. It wasn’t another gift list. It was my application to cancel our mate ceremony.

My name is Caleb Greyson, I’m eighteen, unwanted by my parents, unwanted by God, abandoned by the only boy I ever loved—traded out like garbage for my mother’s sister.So if you’re looking for a happy love story, you will be disappointed.The university of Delaware would save me, or that’s what I thought, somewhere I could forget who I used to be.The old red buildings, beautiful towering trees, sunlight reflecting on ancient stones, everything looked perfect from the outside. Who knew pretty things could have sharp teeth?Now I’m trapped in a cracked room, with Lukas Carter, a closeted, arrogant and angry hockey player, deep in denial for a roommate.Then Tony, sweet, lonely Tony, who built his life around Lukas, gave up his whole future just to be close to Lukas. Standing in the same place for years, just waiting to be wanted.I didn’t want to get close, didn’t want to care. But we’re all slaves to loneliness. Now I’m drowning in secrets, addictions, and the wreckage of boys who only know ruin, need and the ugly parts of wanting too much from people who never promised anything.And Tyler Brown? I don’t want to talk about him.

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

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.