*Story Contains Mature and Explicit Content* [COMPLETED] "Strangers in the dark can change your life in the light." "As I reach the front door I can't help the same question swimming around in my mind, what could possibly be on all of those tapes?" ----- Preview: "You wanna try and be my medicine Abby?" he asks with a deep testing tone, keeping his voice quiet. "I can try" I breathe out as I gulp when his grip tightens "Try me" His hand slides up my throat, his long fingers wrapping tight around my jaw "That's what you really want?" I nod, as I sigh out a shallow yes, and I see every muscle in his body tense, as he wets his lips; hoarsely murmuring his next sentence like its his last try at making me change my mind. "I'm dangerous Abby, this is your last chance, tried to warn you" My stomach twists and knots, as I use every ounce of bravery I have. "Prove it then" ----- Book Started : DEC 2018 - COMPLETED MAY 2019

"I have to be honest, it hurts my feelings that you rich kids are calling us delinquents." "You literally just beat someone up." THIRD BOOK IN THE WICKED SERIES

What ever you do, don't call him James. "It's Jimmy, bitch." Story start date : TBA

"What do you mean I'm stuck with the seven deadly sins? I'm a saint!" "You've been about seven minutes in hell and have managed to insult eight people already, Jasmina." "Fuck off, wannabe Satan."

|Book One of Disaster Series| ••• ❝Please stop doing this,❞ Ridge whispers, resting his forehead on my shoulder blade, his breath hitting my skin, chills coursing through my veins, seeping deep into my bones. The look in his eyes, the hunger and the want warms my heart. ❝Stop doing what?❞ I murmur, clutching his arms for support. My eyes close involuntarily, loving the feel of his body moulding with mine. ❝Stop making me feel things I shouldn't feel.❞ ••• Meet Lydia Herrington, aka the new girl. She's not your basic - You want a fight? She'll give you war. Her notorious nature is what gets her into trouble all the time. She's definitely not the one to take your bullshit. Meet Ridge, aka the Golden Boy of Hillcrest Academy. His family and his friends - two of his prized possessions. You mess with them, you mess with him. He can bring you on your knees with just one goddamn look. What happens when circumstances, or what you can call fate tie Ridge and Lydia up in a small game? A game that can change their lives in a way they never thought of. So guys, climb on the motorcycle, put on a helmet, wrap your arms tight, because this is going to be one hell of a disastrous ride. ••• BEWARE - THIS IS THE FIRST, UNEDITED DRAFT, SO IT WILL HAVE TYPOS AND GRAMMATICAL ERRORS!

"Leave the heels on,"he said as he pulled my hair to the side and bit down on my ear. I could not help but moan.He was only in his boxers and hard as a rock as it was and I was already turned on. Even though I was drunk I knew I wanted this as I had been crushing on the guy since forever and I could not pass up on the chance of jumping on bed with him even though it meant one night of wild sex. "Have some kind of fetish I don't know about?"I asked as I stood before him with only my heels on. "I have a lot of fetishes you don't know about,"with that he pulled me in for a kiss as he laid me down on the bed not so gently. Started: 1st June 2020 Completed:30th June 2020

Aubrey Wilson has the heart of an angel. As the type of person to always trust in others, she's admirable to peers. A total darling, but with a sadness that encases her heart. Anyone could shrink down in fright at the receiving end of Luke Taylor's infamous glare. Tall, muscular, dark-haired, and handsome, he's no stranger on or off the field. Not a kind stranger either. A total brooding asshole, but with a sadness that encases his heart. --- "You didn't have to hit him or anything," I lie my head on his broad, strong shoulder. "He shouldn't have touched you like that," he tucks a curl behind my ear. ~Strong Language~ ~Mild Violence~

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

In every stupid and cliché teen fiction story, there's always the blonde cheerleader that people think is a complete bitch and acts as the sinister antagonist of the story. Sorry to disappoint, but I'm that blonde cheerleader that people think is a complete bitch and acts as the sinister antagonist of the story. Is it my fault that I was born with this hair color or with the blue eyes? Is it my fault that I worked hard to be the leader of the cheer team? And how come there's always this goody-two-shoes who comes in and rains on my parade? Let's list off the criteria: Blonde? Obviously. Blue eyes? Like, as you say, "a reflection of the ocean" Cheerleader? Complete with the uniform. Bimbo? My grades beg to differ. A bitch? I'm not even going to deny it. Antagonist? Well, I'll let you be the judge of that.