She just looked up at me, breath catching in her throat, eyes wide and wet beneath the streetlight. The pink of her dress shimmered under the glow, her skin gleaming like bronze polished by heat and defiance. "You want to dance drunk in some stranger's hands?" I demanded, jaw tight. "Fine. Just say it." She stared at me. Furious. Flushed. Shaking. Then she whispered, "Why does it matter so much?" I didn't answer. Couldn't. Because the truth would've ripped open everything. So it came out before I could stop it-low, guttural, the sound of something breaking free. "Because you're not theirs." She froze. And then... she stepped closer. Just a breath. Just a whisper of space left between us. "Then kiss me," she said, voice soft but certain. "You always stop. You always pull away. You tell me you notice me. That you protect me. But you never kiss me." She looked up at me, trembling. "So kiss me. Or let me go." I didn't move. Not for a heartbeat. Not for five. Because I knew what would happen once I did. There would be no turning back. Not for her. Not for me. She looked like sin and sweetness wrapped in fire and I'd already gone too long pretending I didn't want to burn. So I moved. One hand slid to her waist, dragging her closer. The other tangled in the back of her curls, angling her mouth to mine. And then I kissed her. God, I kissed her. Like she was the only source of oxygen left in the world. Like her lips were something I could consume. Like kissing her could fix every cracked, corrupted thing inside me. It wasn't gentle. It was possession. Teeth, tongue, breathless heat and broken restraint. Her mouth opened under mine. I took advantage tasting rum, rebellion and something so soft I nearly lost my balance. Her fingers gripped my jacket like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.She moaned into me. That sound soft, desperate, mine shot straight to the center of my chest. I deepened the kiss, groaning as her body arched into mine,

I froze. A man was slumped against the graffiti-covered brick wall, blood blooming across his side. His white shirt was soaked through, and there was a gun just inches from his open hand. My heart slammed against my ribs. Run, Skye. You should run. But I didn't. Instead, I dropped my bag and took a cautious step closer. His head lifted. Piercing, icy blue eyes met mine, sharp even through the haze of pain. His face was all sharp edges and shadowed scruff, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. His accent was thick and rough, like broken glass. "Leave." I shook my head slowly. "You're bleeding. Bad." "Not your concern." His voice was lethal, but he flinched hard when he tried to move. "You're gonna die out here," I whispered, kneeling beside him. My hands trembled as I pressed a napkin from my apron against his side. "I'm studying to be a nurse. Let me help." He stared at me like I was something he couldn't comprehend. A stranger. A softness he didn't trust. Then his hand, heavy and warm, clamped around my wrist-not rough, but firm. "What's your name?" he rasped. "...Skye." A beat passed. Then another. "I am Mikhail." His eyes darkened. "And you shouldn't have found me."

[BOOK 2 OF POSH IDIOTS] It has been ten years since every one has graduated from Oxford university. Everything has changed- everyone getting married, having children, working big corporate jobs. Except for one major detail... It has been a while since Alistair and Iman have been in contact or spoke, which is strange as they work in the same industry. That all changes as Alistair covers for Alex as a co host alongside Iman, on her show. Despite being each other's ex's, they learn to stay professional and to develop a friendship at work. This leads to an unexpected moment between them, reigniting the flames of feelings they once shared back in university... ...Which is cute and all, but complicated when one of them are in a committed relationship...more so a marriage. They say that they are an ex for a reason. Just like how they say what's done in the dark, will come out in the light. Not only is there a possibility of a marriage being destroyed, but a possibility of broken careers as secrets and traumas come out to play.

Zara Owens has spent her whole life being the smartest person in the room and the most dangerous one to underestimate. At 28, she's a Black sociologist who deconstructs power for a living, doesn't step inside churches, and has never once apologized for a silence she chose to break. Her tongue is a scalpel. Her walls are load-bearing. And she has exactly one soft spot: her younger sister, Amara. Which is why she's sitting in a pre-marital Bible study at Grace Covenant Church-six weeks out from Amara's wedding, surrounded by people who would call her cynicism a sin. Love, Zara is learning, is just humiliation with good intentions. The first problem is Marcus. Amara's fiancé. Golden-voiced, scripture-draped, and obsessed with Zara in a way she has documented, shut down, and lost sleep over. He sits four chairs away, smiling like he knows something. He doesn't. But Zara is carrying a secret about him that could burn her sister's entire future to the ground. The second problem is Adrien Mercer. Six-foot-five. Wire-rimmed glasses. The kind of quiet that makes loud people nervous. He watches Zara like he's reading a book he doesn't want to put down-and she hates how steady his gaze feels. Adrien has spent his whole life performing obedience: to the church, to his family, to the version of faith that demands you stop asking questions. But watching Zara refuse to shrink is making him wonder if he's been lying to himself for years. Over six weeks, the Bible study becomes a pressure cooker. Marcus inches closer. Amara plans her dress fittings, oblivious. And Adrien-the one man Zara never saw coming-starts seeing through every wall she's ever built. Eyes On Her is for every woman who has walked into a room and felt the weight of being watched, judged, and reduced-and who knows exactly what happens when she finally decides to look back. Some secrets destroy families. Some silences destroy you. And some men... see you so clearly, you forget to be afraid.

He came for the debt. He stayed to claim her soul. Viktor Volkov rules Moscow's underworld with an iron fist and ice in his veins. As pakhan of the most feared Bratva syndicate, he's used to people paying what they owe - in blood, money, or broken bones. When Viola Isley's brother Liam steals two million rubles and disappears like the spineless coward he is, Viktor doesn't waste time chasing a ghost. He goes straight for what's left behind: her. Viola never signed up for her brother's mistakes. She's just trying to survive - long shifts at the café, cramped apartment in a crumbling Soviet block, nights alone with nothing but her thoughts and the endless Moscow snow. She doesn't know that for weeks, a predator has been watching her every move. Tracking her phone. Hacking her laptop camera. Sitting in the shadows outside her window while she showers, while she sleeps, while she touches herself and whispers into the dark like she's begging for someone to hear. And Viktor hears everything. He knows the exact way she takes her coffee (black, two sugars). He knows the route she takes on the metro every morning at 7:15 sharp. He knows the soft little gasps she makes when she comes on Thursdays, fingers buried deep, back arched against the bathroom tiles. He's memorized it all, jerked off to it in the back of his Maybach more times than he can count, and now the obsession has burned away whatever patience he had left.....

Close your eyes. Breathe in. Feel the air turn thick, heavy with cigar smoke and expensive cologne. You can almost taste the whiskey on his tongue, can't you? General Marcus "Reign" Blackwell is power wrapped in ink and royal blood. He commands armies, breaks enemies, and fucks whoever he wants-until he sees *her*. Dr. Aaliyah Monroe. Quiet. Brilliant. Curvy African-American goddess who codes weapons in the dark. Shy smiles. Soft voice. Vanilla skin that glows under fluorescent lights. One breath of her scent and the untouchable general unravels. He dreams of her every night. Strokes himself raw imagining her thighs wrapped around him. Watches her sway to R&B in her apartment through shadows he shouldn't cross. Calls her *dove*, *tiny momma*, *my wife*-long before she ever says yes. She thinks it's temporary. He knows it's forever. He kneels for her. Begs for her. Cries for her. Marks himself with her initials while she sleeps. And when she finally rides him-slow, commanding, glasses slipping down her nose-he sobs her name like prayer. This isn't love. This is obsession carved into worship. This is a man who would burn the world just to hear her giggle and boop his nose. But when the first fight comes... When she needs space and he needs her closer than air... Will his dove fly away?

He's the mafia prince who rules every room he enters. She's the scholarship student who doesn't even know his name. Luca Russo's ego is a weapon. As heir to a ruthless empire, he commands fear and worship with a glance. Women are ornaments. Men are pawns. The world exists to bend to his will. Until he meets Amara. Sweet, soft, and buried in a library book, she spills her things at his feet. When he helps her-a king condescending to a peasant-she offers only a polite, distracted smile before walking away. She doesn't recognize him. She isn't impressed....she's just polite. He didn't want polite. For the first time in his life, Luca is seen as a variable amongstothers. And it ignites a dark, possessive fire within him. He will have her. He will make her see him. He will consume the very innocence that makes her blind to his shadow. Now, the most dangerous man in the city is obsessed with the one woman who didn't look twice. And he'll tear apart her sunny, mundane world just to prove she's always been his. Welcome to an obsession where the greatest insult was her indifference... and the only prize will be her surrender. A/N : I'm trying to make a darker and more smutty version of "The girl who didn't look". This book is also extremely vulgar.

An impossible debt. A dangerous offer. A love that could ruin or redeem them. For her entire life, Amara Johnson has lived in a bubble. Sheltered and coddled by her loving but average family, her world is small, safe, and predictable. That all shatters when she follows her brother to Tokyo for a fresh start. But her brother's secret gambling habit plunges them into a nightmare. He didn't just borrow money-he borrowed from Kenzo Sato, the most feared and powerful Oyabun of the Yakuza in Japan. Now, to protect her brother's life, Amara must leave her quiet job at the bank and work off his massive debt in Kenzo's front: an exclusive, members-only cafe in the heart of Shinjuku. She's out of place, naive, and terrified. And she's utterly captivating to him. Kenzo Sato is a vision of controlled chaos-sharp suits over intricate tattoos, a piercing gaze that sees everything, and a billionaire empire built on power and respect. He is everything her sheltered life taught her to fear. To Amara, he's utterly terrifying. To Kenzo, she's an exotic breath of fresh air-a innocence he never knew he craved. He makes her a new offer: become his exclusively. His companion. His obsession. In return, her brother's debt vanishes and she will want for nothing. It's a gilded cage that promises to lift her from poverty and change her life forever. Caught between fear and a fierce, unexpected attraction, Amara must navigate a world of danger, luxury, and dark desire. Can her sheltered heart survive the ruthless world of the Yakuza? Or will the man who owns her debt also claim her heart?

In a season ruled by marriage, Lily Ashbourne wants knowledge. As the outspoken daughter of a duke, Lily is expected to charm, smile, and choose wisely among the many suitors parading through her family's estate. But Lily finds herself unmoved by titles and flattery, far more intrigued by books, ideas, and the quiet intelligence of a man who does not seek her attention at all. Sir Edmund Hale is a scholar. He is reserved, and utterly uninterested in the spectacle of the Ton. When circumstance forces their paths to cross, Lily discovers in him something rare: a mind that challenges her own and a world of learning she has been denied.

Paige Monroe is your typical girl, she loves luxury and the finer things in life. Travis Prescott, on the other hand, is her polar opposite-a rugged country man who values simplicity and hard work. When their worlds collide, sparks fly in more ways than one.