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My name is Christian Thompson, and once upon a time, I was the best striker in European football. That was until he came along—Ashford Ryder, young and carefree, 10 years my junior and the new shining star. I hate him. At least that's what I tell myself. Not just because he's taken my spot, but because he's everything I've struggled all my life to be, and not to be. He's vibrant, he's happy, and the worst of all, he's openly gay. I'm not homophobic, quite the opposite—I've lived in the closet all my life. All my life, I've had to hide who I am to please the people around me. European football hasn't always been this accepting of gay men, and I'd squeezed myself into a box to fit in with what they wanted of me. It isn’t that hard when you think about my family who'd rather disown me than have an openly gay son. So imagine how I feel when the world decides to be more accommodating to people like Ashford Ryder when they shoved me in a box. It's not so easy to hate the happy-go-lucky striker, when he does everything to get close to me, despite my insistent hatred for him. He's like a thorn in my side—a hot, sexy, blonde, 5ft9 thorn I can't stop thinking about. But when one day I lose my cool around the popular striker and land myself in bad press, I end up needing his help. It's supposed to be easy. Spend some time with Ashford Ryder, and show our fans that we can work together—it's what I need to do to save my career. But no one tells you how hard it is to hate someone you spend every waking hour dreaming about.

“No… we shouldn’t,” I whispered as my back hit the wall. The cold stone didn’t cool the heat in my body. “I’m your brother’s fiancée” He didn’t trap me. His hand rested near my hip, close enough that I could feel his warmth without him touching me. That made it worse. “And yet,” he said softly, his hand tracing a path down my thigh. “you didn’t push me back when I came near.” I bit my bottom lip hard, trying desperately to hold back a sound. From the other room, I could hear forks clinking and people laughing. Our family was right there, close enough to hear us. My heart was pounding. He leaned closer, “You’re shaking, Maisie,” he murmured. “And you’re not scared.” I swallowed, breath uneven. “Someone could see.” A dangerous smile curved his mouth. “ Then be as quiet as you can.” ***** Maisie’s world changed the moment she walked into that bar. She should never have let the alcohol numb her anger, her fear, her desperation to escape the life her parents had arranged for her— a life that felt like a trap. The perfect marriage. The perfect future. The perfect cage. She thought one reckless night would ruin everything… for them. She thought if she became someone they despised, they’d finally let her go. She didn’t know that one mistake would brand her instead. Now he wants her. Not gently. Not quietly. The more she runs, the closer he gets… until she can’t tell if she’s running from him… or being drawn to something far more dangerous. He is everything she wants. Everything she shouldn’t want. And when she turns to run for her life a second time…. She runs straight into him.

When a mafia boss falls at your feet, can you escape? I hurt and kill people, but not just any ordinary ones. He’s given me my name, my fame, and my legacy. In honor of my non-biological father, who raised and protected me, I will defend our clan, even if it means a bloodbath for my enemies. I wasn’t given a choice. I have to marry her—a sweet, bubbly, and funny countryside girl. I don’t understand what makes her special, why it has to be her. Then, I uncovered the truth about her real identity. I need to protect her more than myself, because Elizabeth Betty is not just my wife. She’s everything to me. -Drake Del Fiore- I met you by mistake. I find you cool and attractive, yet ruthless with a warm heart. You came like a knight, given my family shelter and proposing marriage. Hang on, marriage? You’ve paid off my bills and my parents’ debt. What’s your real deal? Oh, I get it. I have to marry you, right? He seems like a decent businessman, and I don’t think he likes me—he may just need me as a cover. That’s fine. As long as no strings attached, and please, don’t touch me! Uhm, are you sure about this, Betty? Then I fell in love, failed to protect my heart. Will he still hold me until the end? -Betty Canor- Drake Lucas Del Fiore is a mafia boss who shows no mercy to his enemies. His father gives him a mission and that is to marry Betty. To Drake, Betty seems ordinary. He never thought that this ordinary girl would capture his heart blindly. And now, falling at her feet, he soon found out who Betty really is.

“I’ve got you,” His free hand finds my waist again, keeping me anchored. “I won’t let go unless you tell me to.” My breath hitches but I don't move away, still fixing my gaze back at him. Water droplets cling to his eyelashes and his hair is slicked back from his face, his blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. Fuck. He looks so dreamy and beautiful and utterly unguarded with me. I wonder if I look the same to him too. Gently, the water laps at our shoulders, cool against my heated skin that is burning for his touch. Our eyes are still locked on each other, our faces merely inches apart. I want him. I want him so much that I don't want to stop wanting him. This pull between us has tortured me long enough and for so long, I have fought it. Restrained it. But now, I am done fighting it. Without warning, I cup his face and crash my lips to his mouth, shutting my eyes and damning the consequences. He takes in a sharp breath, an adrenaline of desire rushing through me like wildfire at the sound before he pulls me flush against him, his lips kissing me back with a hunger that instantly fuels the fire blazing through my veins. My hands move up and fist into his wet hair, tugging at the strands and drawing out a pleasurable groan from him. He wants me. He craves me just as much as I crave him. And I am glad we're both on the same page of this temptation. ~ They stole my powers, murdered my loved ones, and killed me. But now, I am back for vengeance—and the Lycan Prince is mine!

My ex-colleague, Brenda Wilson, finds out from an unknown source that I have taken in an adopted son. Because of that, she insists on matchmaking my son with her niece. "My niece has graduated from a proper college, you know! You don't have to prepare any fancy wedding gifts… Just 800 thousand dollars will do! On top of that, you can put her name on the deed of that fancy deluxe apartment in the city center. "From the way I see it, there's no need to choose the perfect date anymore. They should get their marriage registered tomorrow and do their best to give birth to a cute baby boy!" My adopted son has a volatile temper, so there's no way he'll go on a blind date with some random woman. I refuse Brenda's offer on the spot with a cold expression. Feeling furious and embarrassed, Brenda yells at me for being a stingy old lady. Then, she storms out of my place angrily. Three months later, Brenda shows up with her pregnant niece outside my residential area. There, they start a livestream and start crying their woes to the Internet. "Everyone, Emily Parker's adopted son tricked my poor niece, Ashley Collins, into sleeping with him! Yet now, he refuses to claim the unborn baby as his! "Oh, Ashley keeps crying every day! Can Emily even afford to take responsibility for my darling Ashley if she and her unborn baby end up dying because of that bastard? "If I gain 100 thousand likes by the end of today, I'll definitely commit suicide right on that Emily hag's doorstep!" As I look at the comments that demand justice in Brenda's livestream, I almost laugh out loud. My adopted son is actually a male monkey which has retired from the local zoo. On top of that, he's already neutered. So, what on earth is Ashley pregnant with? A magical baby monkey?

I’m Connor Macleod—captain of the college hockey team, campus golden boy, the guy who never has to try too hard. After the whole scandal freshman year—when a drunken video outing me went viral and everyone suddenly knew the captain of the hockey team was gay—I expected to lose everything. But the opposite happened. My teammates had my back. The campus didn’t care. If anything, people accepted me more than I ever expected. So yeah, being openly gay was never the problem. Catching feelings? That’s the part I’ve always avoided. And Maxime Tremblay?He was supposed to be the same as every other guy. A one night stand Except one night turned into weeks. And somewhere between his sharp tongue, his stupidly cute beanies, and the way he looks at me like he actually sees me and I forgot the rules. He thought we were becoming something real. And I let him believe it… right up until the night I proved him wrong in the worst possible way. The problem is, for years I thought I wanted someone else. Tyson Bennett—the guy I chased, the one I was sure would finally make me feel something real. The guy who was supposed to end my endless string of hookups. But when I finally got him?It didn’t feel right. Now Maxime hates me. He won’t look at me. Won’t talk to me. Won’t give me the time of day. And for the first time in my life… I actually care. Because I don’t want Tyson anymore. I don’t want another meaningless night. I want the guy with the beanies, the sharp mouth, and the heart I shattered. And this time? I’m going to fight like hell to win him back.

On Independence Day, I was on my way to my boyfriend's house when a car slammed into me. The stretch of road was deserted. The collision jammed my door shut, and the acrid smell of gasoline filled the air. My car was about to explode. I scrambled for the emergency hammer, only to find it had been swapped out for a pink toy mallet. Panic rising in my chest, I dialed my boyfriend's number. To my horror, his ringtone sounded from the very car that had crashed into me. He stepped out, arm wrapped around his childhood sweetheart. She put on a pitiful face, tears in her eyes. "Oh no, I'm so clumsy. It's my first time driving, and I hit someone." When my boyfriend realized the victim was me, he didn't hesitate to console her. "Don't worry. She must have collided with you on purpose." I pounded on the window, desperate. "Nick! The emergency hammer's been switched out. Help me get out of here!" His childhood sweetheart lit up with a mischievous smile. "Katie, I swapped it! Isn't the pink hammer super cute?" Disgust flickered across Nick's face. "It's just a little crash. Get out on your own." By now, thick smoke was pouring into the car, and the heat was searing my lungs. I begged him to save me. But the girl only giggled, covering her nose in mock annoyance. "Katie, why are you cooking in there? The smoke is awful." Then she patted her stomach. "Oops, my tummy is rumbling. Nick, let's go home and eat." He tightened his hold around her and turned to leave. "Enough already. Stop pretending. My parents are waiting for us at home." Just as suffocation closed in on me, I slammed my hand against the car's emergency distress button.

“Five million dollars may have bought my chains, but it didn’t buy my loyalty — and it definitely didn’t buy my heart. I never dreamed my life would come down to a transaction of hundred million dollars. But my father’s betrayal puts me at the mercy of Adrian Costa, the ruthless Sicilian, head of Cosa Nostra whose name makes the mafia world quake with fear. Including me. He bought me in an auction and then made me his wife. Saying no to him is not an option. He is dark and dangerous. I have done underhanded work against him using my hacker identity, CIPHER. I have to escape his gilded cage before he finds out my alt identity. Each of our battles ignites a deadly game of power and lust. As secrets unravel and Adrian’s enemies close in, I find myself faced with the ultimate dilemma: Will I fight for my freedom, or will the king I hate become the one man I cannot live without? ***** “You think you can outrun me, Elena? You're wearing my ring on your finger.” I don’t flinch, meeting his gaze with defiance. “So what? I don’t belong to you.” He leans in, his lips brushing against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “You don’t, yet. But I can make you. Do you want that?" I swallow hard, my pulse racing. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Adrian chuckles darkly, his hand lingering on my waist. “Trust me, I’m not the one who needs to be flattered.” ***** # Dark Mafia Romance #18+ #Hacker Female Lead and Italian Mafia Lord # Touch her you die #Marriage contract # He falls first #Fast Paced #Strong FL and ML #A Not so cute Pet (Oh he is cute. Don't go by his looks) #HEA

In the third year of my eating disorder, my husband, Nikolai Hollowell, is the only person who still insists on making me eat. Even when I vomit until I'm a trembling mess, he will make another dish for me again half an hour later. He coaxes gently yet stubbornly, "Have one more bite of the apple slice, Emi." But the moment I smell the food, I throw up again until I can barely breathe. That night, I make another post on X to ask for help. "How is someone with an eating disorder supposed to keep living?" The top comment says, "Get a boyfriend who's a chef! My darling cooks different dishes for me every single day, all 365 days without repeating once. Even the apple slices he cuts are shaped like cute little bunnies, so I absolutely love eating now." Someone replies enviously, "Wow! Where do you find a man like that?" She answers, "Find one? Good men like that no longer circulate on the market. He is actually married. His wife has had anorexia for three years. She has become only skin and bones. "He says just looking at her kills his appetite, and he does not even want to touch her. Well, I'm nothing like her. I always finish every dish he makes." My breathing catches in my throat. This morning, Nikolai personally made bunny-shaped apple slices for me. My fingertips turn cold as I tap into the woman's profile. Her caption reads, "Wow! If your wife won't eat bunny-shaped apple slices, then I will!" Attached is a photo of a man's long, elegant fingers holding an apple slice up to the woman's mouth. And the one reflected in her starry eyes after zooming in—is a face identical to Nikolai's.

My boyfriend got a tenure-track offer from Ashford University—and the night he found out, he cried in my arms for hours. Before he left the country, he held my hand, looking guilty. "Babe, the cost of living over there is insane, and you probably won't be able to find a decent job. Once I get settled, I'll bring you over in style…" He paused, waiting for me to appreciate how "considerate" he was being. What he didn't know was that just half an hour earlier, I'd overheard him on the balcony. "Don't worry, the tickets are booked. We're going together. No way I'm leaving you behind." On the other end of the line was his gentle, sweet junior. He'd spent years looking down on my education, always saying I couldn't understand his "soul." But every time I handed him my tips from waiting tables and delivering takeout—stained envelopes, greasy and crumpled—he'd take them like he was doing me a favor. What he also didn't know was that I'd long since gotten tired of playing the "I'll work to put you through school" bit. I only started dating him because he was cute—I wanted a little thrill. I just didn't expect to keep the act going for three years. And for a second here and there, I almost believed it myself. I was already looking for an excuse to dump him. Then he handed me one on a silver platter. So when he gave his little speech, I barely held back a smile as I fixed his collar. "Okay. Then take good care of yourself over there. I'm gonna be late for my night shift. Gotta go." I turned around and called my best friend. "Book me a table at VIVA tonight. I'm single again—time to party."