Olympia Tides Table Novels & Stories

“I hate you!” I picked up the flower vase from the center table, and lifted my hand to throw it at him. But before I could do so, the man from behind gripped my hand, and collected it from me. “Are you going to sign the divorce papers?” he brought out a gun, and cocked it. “Or would you rather lose your life?” ****************** Sometimes, saying 'I do' could be the beginning of true marital bliss. And other times? It could be the beginning of endless suffering and torture. Abby had only ever wanted a man for herself, and when Claude showed up, he was everything she could ask for, and even more. But sometimes, even criminals wear innocent faces. What happens when Abby learns that the man whom she loved was responsible for the explosion that claimed the lives of her parents and best friend?

Nathaniel Lockwood is a fourth-year medical student at one of the top universities in the States. His plan is simple and clear: graduate with excellent grades, land a good job, and live a stable, peaceful life. Unfortunately, that plan goes straight to hell the moment he takes the wrong “job”—a job that drags him into the dark, dangerous underworld he never wanted to see. Nikolai Ricardo: star of the hockey team, rich, spoiled, and untouchable. In just sixty days, Nikolai makes it his mission to completely upend Nathaniel’s life, manipulating his tutor and orchestrating chaos in ways Nathaniel could never anticipate. Now, every step Nathaniel takes toward his perfect life is sabotaged, leaving him caught between danger, desire, and the shocking realization that he might not be able to escape Nikolai’s game. But the table turns, where Nikolai is only a pawn in a more even bigger game.

Not every woman sits waiting to play submissive to Mr. dominant or to be swept off her feet by prince charming. Some sit in offices with their legs crossed on the table, and own their castles... Fuck prince charming. But Ricky Mears, an arrogant billionaire isn't prince charming, he's a certified asshole... Neither does he have time to sweep any woman off her feet. Things turn around for the both dominant CEOs when they meet... Suddenly Jade Kimberly Raymonds wants Ricky to play prince in her already built castle, and Ricky wishes she would need help being swept off her feet. Regardless of being an asshole, Ricky still has the body of Adonis, capable of making the woman buried in her work burn. It is akin to fuel kissing flames... The fire in their passion, cannot be quenched. P.S. Cover picture not mine.

DARK ROMANCE | EROTIC | VENGEANCE (Not suitable for sensitive person) " Don't worry, Cupcake. Everything is halal when it comes to us. " He twisted the hair string which was kissing her face. Sort of jealousy maybe. " Even if I f**k you here. " He patted the counter behind her. " On the counter. Or on the floor. Or the table of the shop, or the cash counter of the shop. My touch. " He was scanning her pale face when his back of finger caressed her soft and red cheek. " My desire for you. My intention towards you. Nothing is wrong.." Slap! After a hard sound, his words cut off and silence swathed the whole shop along with the kitchen. What will happen when her blind eyes see the wrath of his darkness? Will his obsession tarnish her soul? Will she see the color of the love she was promised?

I was the stand-in who looked most like my husband's first love. He put me through countless plastic surgeries, both major and minor ones, until I became her exact likeness. But then, she came back from the dead. All it took was her saying, "I don't like anyone looking like me," and he sent me right back to the operating table once more. I begged him, telling him that my body couldn't handle it anymore. Alas, he only looked at me with irritation. "Seeing that cheap imitation of her face just disgusts me," he sneered. "No matter how close you come, you'll never be her." In the end, I died on that operating table. Yet, he went mad, trying desperately to recall what I once looked like.

In Lunular Island where the tides rise with the moon, Crisel stands as the most feared and revered Raksha — the alpha bloodline’s protector. But Crisel carries a dangerous secret that no one suspects… she is Alrael’s luna. For fifteen years, she has lived with this secret and kept it even from Alrael himself. The former alpha, Aphael, insisted on this deception, fearing that the same betrayal which murdered Alrael’s mother and sister during the Great Extermination would happen again. Now, Crisel walks beside Alrael as he leads the moonlight wolves by day. But at night, Alrael becomes Black Justice, a vigilante who’s hunting for answers to his family’s slaughter, and Crisel fights by his side as they inch closer to uncovering the conspiracy that threatens the very essence of moonlight wolves. Yet, every moment of closeness is a reminder of what Crisel can never tell him… that she is his Luna, his mate — she can only allow her love to burn in secret. The burden of Crisel’s hidden identity even grows unbearable especially when Alrael is pressured by the village heads to marry and secure the alpha lineage. They believed that the luna is long dead and have arranged his marriage to Giana, a genius from Crescent Village. Now, the wedding day approaches and the weight of the past, the fear of betrayal, and her love for Alrael all collide in that moment. Time… is running out for Crisel. But with the vows spoken, and the preacher having said, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace", Crisel has to make a choice. Will she allow her alpha marry the wrong girl or…. will she speak now? Will she be risking everything and be rudely barging in on the alpha’s white-veil occasion?

My husband, Daniel Thompson, looked down on me. I was just a farmer's daughter in his eyes, and he never loved the son I gave birth to. It wasn’t until our baby turned 100 days old that he held him for the first time. Then, one day, his first love, Claire Matthews, came back to the city. That night at dinner, Daniel, who was always cold and distant, finally smiled. He even reached across the table and placed a piece of meat on Noah’s plate. Noah beamed all evening, clutching onto that tiny gesture like it was a treasure. Just before bed, he whispered to me, "Mom, do you think he likes me now… even just a little?" I wrapped him in my arms, tears blurring my vision as I gently shook my head. "No, sweetheart. It’s because the woman he truly loves is back. It’s time for us to go."

Every anniversary, Mark had some twisted surprise for me. Our tenth? He strutted into the ballroom holding hands with an escort wearing straight up lingerie. "Jenna, she's cold. Hand over your dress." Then, like that wasn't sick enough: "And the lingerie. She likes your vibe." I clutched my collar, trying to keep it together. He didn't care—just yanked it open. "Cut the act. Your dad sold you to me, remember? That slutty look you used to give me—I still see it." Everyone stared, waiting for me to break. So I did the one thing I could. "I want a divorce." Again. Mark just laughed and chucked a stack of photos on the table—me, covered in marks, curled in bed, a total mess. "You say that every year. And every year, you're back in my bed. Think your mom keeps that hospital spot if these get out?"

My roommates booked a New Year's Eve light show table—five hundred per person—and started urging me in the group chat to transfer the money. I quietly sent a screenshot of my account balance. "You guys go ahead," I wrote. "I haven't even scraped together my tuition yet." They replied with a string of mocking "haha"s. Our dorm leader, Giselle Murdoch, even posted on her social media with the caption: [The first step to crossing class boundaries is distancing yourself from people who kill the mood.] Just after midnight, they sent me a photo from the light show and said, "Too bad you're not here." I frowned, confused, when my counselor's call cut in—her voice tight with urgency. "Did you invite your roommates to the light show? The organizers said they never even checked in! They're missing!"

I spent three hundred dollars on a brand-new phone for my mother, only for her to start saying that the smartphone was stealing her money and that I had personally siphoned off her bank balance. I could never win the argument. So I offered to just reimburse whatever “loss” she imagined. She got even more unhappy. She slapped a stack of receipts on the table and demanded I pay up. “Where did you buy this piece of junk? It’s a ticking time bomb. Give me my money back!” Most of the receipts were for men’s sneakers and athletic wear; the rest were household basics like brooms and hangers. I felt a wave of suffocating frustration. Since when was shopping free? Why was I expected to pay for her? I bought her a new phone, and I just became the ATM? “Fine. If you hate it that much, I’m taking it back to the store.” But she would not let go.