Page To Screen Mga Nobela at Kwento

For 23 years old woman, Gia Florence went through lots of breaks up and she never been in a relationship for more than six months. All because she ends up being cheated or any other reason. She always thinking of a fairytale where the princess meets her prince charming and they live happily ever after but didn't find the right guy to be her prince charming yet until one day, she encounters Lucas Santiago who also her father's business client. She had this feeling that he is different from any of her ex and wants to get to know him. She tries various ways to get his attention but it's hard than her thought. So, she gains all her courage and tries again and again. ***** I waited for a few rings before he picks it up. "Hey Lucas, it's me, Gia," I said. "Yes, I know it's you, Miss Florence. What do you want?" He asks. "You save my number?" I ask to ignore his question. "Even if I didn't save your number, I'd probably already memorize your number because this is not the first time you call me. So, what do you want from me, Miss Florence? I am busy right now," "Come on, it's weekend. Stop working on the weekend, will you? Take a rest and enjoy the weekend." "If you don't have anything important to say, then bye." "Wait! Don't hang up yet." "Yes?" He asks and I know he annoyed right now. "Can you accompany me for dinner tonight?" I ask hoping he will agree. "No." With that, he hangs up. I look at the screen and sigh. ***** Wants to know what happens? Give it a shot! It will be a roller coaster love story but also it is worth it to read it.

For three years, I slept with my father’s head of security behind everyone’s back. Last night, with one hand at my throat and the other under my dress, he finally asked for a name, a future, something real. “After graduation,” I whispered against his mouth. “Let me finish my defense first. Then we’ll tell them.” “No.” By then I was shaking beneath him on the leather seat. “Then sooner. On my birthday next Friday. I’ll stop hiding then... Cassian, please—gentler...” That seemed to satisfy him. His mouth softened against my skin, and his voice dropped low against my ear. “Good girl. I just want you too much.” The next afternoon, I met my best friend for tea. The moment she opened the passenger door, she spotted the torn foil packet caught beside the seat and lifted a brow. “Bourbon cherry?” she said, already grinning. “That’s our company’s unreleased line. So this is what you’ve been hiding.” I snatched it up and shoved it into my bag. “It’s not public yet.” She frowned. “That’s the strange part. We only sent those samples to a handful of VIP clients.” Then she pulled out her phone. “I did a product follow-up with one of them yesterday, and his private account was basically a shrine to his girlfriend.” She turned the screen toward me. I only looked once, and my whole body went cold. The man in the photo had a line of Latin script inked low across his abdomen. I knew that tattoo. I had kissed it the night before. My fingers started shaking as I opened the private account Cassian had never shown me. April 4. The conservatory. Me and him. April 7. The upstairs studio. Me and him again. April 11—last night. A six-second clip in the back of the car.

Sweet warning, my darling sinner… These pages are dripping with the kind of temptation that will make your thighs clench and your prayers turn filthy. Once you start reading, you won’t want absolution—you’ll beg for more sin. Reader discretion is strongly advised. In shadowed confessionals and candlelit cathedrals, forbidden desire ignites again and again… She kneels in nothing but a sheer black lace nightdress that barely hides her hardened nipples, wrists bound in leather and silver chains. “Forgive me, Father,” she whispers, voice trembling as the cold rosary beads slip between her slick folds. His deep voice answers from the darkness: “No forgiveness tonight, little lamb… only my cock teaching you how to worship.” Another night, another altar. A different priest’s strong hand slides under her nightdress, fingers circling her swollen clit while his lips brush her ear: “You came here to confess your sins… but your dripping pussy already told me everything.” And in the moonlit sacristy, she’s bent over the holy table, nightdress hiked up, collar tight, as he growls against her neck, “Every time you moan my name, another angel loses its wings… now scream for me, baby girl.” Ten scorching stories. Ten powerful priests. One deliciously wicked collection of priest-sinner BDSM romance that will leave you wet, breathless, and aching to be ruined. Leather. Chains. Rosaries used in ways God never intended. Unholy pleasure has never felt so heavenly. **Indulge. Submit. Sin.** Ready to kneel for every single story? Turn the page… and let them all ruin you.

To scrape together enough money for tickets home on New Year’s Eve, I took on a part-time job and accidentally entered a livestream where money was being thrown around. The boy on screen had fair skin and wore a high-end knit sweater, with a luxuriously decorated villa behind him. “It’s too boring being kept here. My sugar mommy gives me more money than I can spend. Let’s do some giveaways.” Excited, I grabbed several large cash drops in a row. The money for my girlfriend’s and my tickets was almost enough. Then the boy suddenly leaned close to the camera. “She keeps saying the tear mole under my eye looks like her boyfriend’s. What bad luck, sharing the same feature as some poor loser.” My fingers trembled. I had a tear mole in the exact same spot. A comment floated by: [How could a sugar mommy’s boyfriend be poor?] The boy sneered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s just playing around. Told him she’s a million in debt, and he’s dumb enough to work and help her pay it off.” My heart went cold. My girlfriend was also supposedly a million in debt. “The funniest part is, she just spent three days with me. When she left, I asked if she still had the energy to go be with him. “She said as long as she tells him she’s going to wash dishes at a barbecue place, that idiot will feel bad and go deliver food to make some extra money overnight.” Another big cash drop came in. I had enough now. My phone rang. Wren’s voice sounded tired as she said, “Aran, the ticket money isn’t enough… I made a little over two hundred dollars washing dishes. I’ll head home now.”

“I don’t like you,” I tell him. Fredrick smiles like I just said something funny. “That’s not true.” “Yes, it is,” I deny. “No,” he says softly, stepping closer, “you just don’t want to understand me and admit it.” I laugh. “I understand you perfectly. You’re annoying. You’re always right. And you make everyone look bad.” He looks right into my eyes. “And yet… you keep looking at me.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I thought my biggest enemy was Fredrick Larsen. My perfect, annoying coworker who always wins every fight. We fight in every meeting. We argue over every project. I just can’t stand him. But at night, I become “A”. A secret writer who writes stories under a secret name. And I talk to a stranger who is one of my followers online called “K”. His words feel like magic. He sees deep into my heart, understands my fears, and makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. We share secrets, dreams, and even our hidden desires. Slowly, I start falling for this stranger I’ve never met. But I received the greatest shock of my life one night at the company party where I accidentally saw Fredrick reading something on his phone with keen interest. I moved closer and saw my story open on his screen with my apple profile picture right there. My stomach drops. Now I know the truth. “K” is Fredrick. The man I fight every single day… is the same man who made my heart race every night. Fredrick raises his head and steps closer, his eyes burning into mine. He smiles like he already knows everything. He tilts his head, calm as ever, but his voice is softer now. “Should I call you A… or Dylan?”

I thought about him again today. God, I'm so fucked up. I want my brother to ruin me. I want his hands on my body, his mouth on my skin, his name the only word I can remember when he's done with me. I want him to push me against a wall and take everything I've been begging him for in the dark. The worst part? He's not even really my brother. I found out the night I came home, hospital mix-up, swapped at birth, the daughter they raised isn't the daughter they made. Which means Damien Nightbane, the man who's haunted my dirtiest fantasies since I was eighteen, the man whose touch makes me wet and desperate and insane... he's not off-limits anymore. Except he is. Because he raised me. Protected me. Watched me grow up. And I spent two years running from the way his eyes follow me, from the tension that crackles between us, from desires so shameful I can only confess them to a stranger online. A stranger who knows exactly what I want. A stranger who tells me my fantasies aren't wrong. A stranger who makes me feel seen in ways no one else ever has. I should have known better. Should have realized that the man who whispers dark promises through a screen and the man who grips my shoulders too tight in hallways might be the same person. But by the time I figured it out, his hands were already on me. And Damien Nightbane doesn't let go of what's his. Warning: This is a dark, explicit romance featuring a possessive, obsessive billionaire and the woman he's been waiting years to claim. Contains mature themes, explicit content, and a "brother" who's definitely NOT playing nice.

I stand before the judges at the jewelry design competition and admit to plagiarism. Then, I announce my withdrawal from the contest, along with my resignation as Design Director of Fairchild Group. My fiance, Caleb Fairchild, shoots daggers at me. "If you walk away from this competition, our engagement is off!" My father follows up by slapping me across the face. "First, you plagiarize your own sister, and now you're breaking off your engagement with the Fairchilds? Are you trying to ruin our family?" "Oh, I'm not just calling off my engagement. I'm also cutting off my ties with you," I respond apathetically. I make this decision because I have been given a second life. In my previous life, my stepsister and I competed in this contest. First place earns the title of the nation's top jewelry designer and 50 million dollars from Fairchild Group. However, round after round, her designs are exactly the same as mine, and she submits them before I do. The judging panel gives me a pass because of Caleb and lets me advance to the finals, but not without a warning to never plagiarize again. I refuse to believe it. I switch to a brand-new computer, lock myself in my room, and pour everything into a new design. Yet, when the final designs appear on the big screen, history repeats itself. In the end, my sister takes first place and walks away with everything that should have been mine. The reputation I painstakingly built is ruined, and my name is dragged through the mud online. My parents are ashamed of me. They knock me out and sell me off to the countryside to marry an old man. Ultimately, I die after endless abuse. When I open my eyes again, I'm back at the semifinals. Everyone is pointing at me as they stare at the two identical designs.

Late one night, a thread blew up and hit the front page of a famous forum deep in New York’s underworld. The original poster had dug up an old prompt: “Name three words that sum up your youth.” Then an account that’d been dormant for years popped up in the replies. Its avatar was a backlit silhouette of a girl in a white dress, username: Seraphina. That was Seraphina Rossi. The Rossi family heiress, the undisputed it girl of New York’s underworld. She typed: Vibrant. Passionate. And Rico Valentino. All hell broke loose in the thread. The wild Valentino’s heir and the breathtaking Rossi heiress had once loved each other hard, only for it all to end in bitter regret. Nearly everyone in New York’s underworld had watched that heartbreak play out. Including me. I turned my head, staring at the man sleeping beside me. This was the man next to me: the once reckless kid who’d ruled the streets of Queens with his bare fists, now the Don of the Valention family. Poised. Unshakable. And he didn’t love me. I’d always known Rico still kept in touch with Seraphina. That he’d met her in secret, more than once. That’s why he’d refused to make our marriage public. His excuse was always the same: “Keeping your identity off the grid keeps our enemies from targeting you.” But I knew I was the one standing between Rico and the woman he’d never stopped loving. If all three of us were just going to keep hurting like this? I’d rather walk away. Let them have each other. I’d made up my mind. I was divorcing Rico.

"What you loved, my fair lady. wasn't me, but an illusion, a lie you were so eager to believe". his smile didn't reach his ears as he looked at her, noticing the amount of pain and betrayal her face carried."Can you say that you still love me now? The real me, with all my ugliness? can you still look over everything I've done to you and say that you love me?". He searched her eyes, hoping to find even a shred of love left in them. But just as he expected, there was none for he had destroyed it all with his own cruel hands."And now what?" "Now, It is Goodbye...", He said as he placed her on the ground, "Go back to your life, the one you had before me. Forget the the beautiful lies, forget the monstrous truths, forget me and live." Taking few steps away, she watched him carefully, afraid of the fact it might be but another trap, seeing he didn't make any moves towards her, she turned around, ready to leave but she felt his iron grip back on her arm before she was pulled into a desperate, bittersweet .*********Born as an illegitimate daughter of the King, sent away to live among the priests, Sara had a dull and meaningless life, believing she was a hidden disgrace, a black page in her father's honorable history, but her life was turned upside down when she decides to look for some answers about her true identity, and she finds herself in a journey of love, survival, secrets and heartbreaks, especially when she falls into the clutches of a demon lord who tells her she is the quill that would write the rest of their world's history...Disclaimer : I don't own the cover

Welcome to the anthology that will leave you soaked, shaking, and begging to be next. Twisted women who thought they could walk away untouched. Possessive, unhinged men who made sure they never would. These men come for you in the dark corners of your life. These men don’t ask. They take. They take you until your thighs shake and your voice breaks. They edge you with filthy touches until you’re begging for the penetration they withhold just to watch you break. And the women? They’re not sweet innocents anymore. They’re bad girls who teased too hard, virgins who secretly ached to be wrecked, heartbroken sluts who spread for revenge, secretaries who sabotage just to feel the whip of punishment, students who hack grades to earn a professor’s cruel cock. They fight. They curse. They hate how much they crave it. Then they shatter—screaming, dripping, marked, owned. Every story drips with taboo heat: Men that don’t share unless they decide you’re worth passing around. Women that don’t escape, but beg to be ruined again. Warning: If you like romance with feelings and fade-to-black, run now. If you want to be left soaked, aching, and haunted by possessive daddies who wreck you senseless and call you their filthy little slut… Open the book. Spread your legs. Let them ruin you. One touch. One bite. One night… and you’re ruined for anyone else. One page in, and you’ll be touching yourself like the desperate slvt you were born to be. EXTREME CONTENT WARNING!!! This anthology is pure, unfiltered dark erotica. If you are triggered by any of the following, STOP READING Dubious/non-consensual consent Age gaps Voyeurism Step-family/taboo Daddy kink & heavy degradation Public sex Gangbangs, double/triple penetration, reverse harems BDSM