The cold man fell in love with the kind girl because he knew that she deserved the world and that he wanted to be the one who gave it to her. ♡ Alette Faye was a sweet girl. She was exceptionally kind and had an air of simplicity. Between her part-time job at the bakery, her classes, her time spent tending to her flowers and walking in the fields, she didn't get the opportunity to experience much. Her past created fears in her that she seemingly couldn't overcome, and then she met him. For when she meets him, she should have run away in fear, but she stayed. She stayed and she opened her big heart for a man who found his heart, just for her. ♡ This story is a little cliché, a lot unedited, and super simple.

She's a wild, free spirit who sees the good in everyone, and he's the hardened, bad-tempered loner who wants nothing to do with her-yet no matter how hard he tries to push her away, she's the one temptation he can't escape. *** He's never met someone with such a bubbly personality. Not to mention the wildness and odd phrases she says every five minutes. He hates it. He hates how he can't stay away from it. He hates what she does to him; it's not like him to chase after some girl. She gets under his skin like no other. She's never met someone with such a bad attitude. He's ill-mannered and menacing. The glare never seems to leave his face. Considering it all, she can't help but feel the attraction toward him. Dangerous attraction toward a seemingly dangerous man. Maybe it's the tattoos on his arm that gets her attention. Or maybe it's because she can tell there's hope for good under his rough exterior. And she's about to find it, whether he likes it or not. It's no secret that the two of them are complete and total opposites. *** "You like being called Sugar, don't you?" I tease, placing my toothbrush back after finishing. He does the same and gives me a side-eyed scowl. He grips my chin harshly and kisses me. My body temperature raises a good ten degrees and my right leg goes all wiggly. He pulls away. "You like it when I kiss you, don't you?" He teases the same way I did to him and I'm left blubbering. "I think both of our questions are rhetorical," I lower my voice up at him. His lip curls up into a smirk. *** #1 in Young Adult #9 in Badboy #1 in Cold #3 in Goodgirl #1 in Sweetheart #14 in Love *** *Warning* This story contains mature themes (language, scenes)

Jakob Laurent was an intensely quiet, no-nonsense type of man. Callan Grant was a sweet, slightly eccentric, small-business owner. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ Callan needed to take some extra security precautions, but she could have never predicted that it would come in the form of a tall, brooding, and unbelievably stunning man. A stalker, a bodyguard, three iced lattes per day, and a heap of loungewear. Didn't that sound like the start of something wonderful? ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN