Alison Abbott is an 18 year old art student. She is spending the summer before her freshman year of college with her boyfriend and his family at the beach. She has been through her fair share of trauma, depression, and struggles with trying to heal from her childhood. Warren Sallow is a happily married man with four children. He's a successful surgeon, wealthy, handsome, a doting father, and a loving husband. He has everything he could ever want. Alison and Warren realize quickly that they share a deep attraction to each other. They begin an affair. The problem? Alison is dating Warrens son... WARNING: This book is 18+ only. It contains extremely sexual content, a substantial age gap relationship, instances of self harm, adultery, and many other adult themes. Read at your own risk.

Everything was spinning out of control, until he met her She'd never understood her power, until she met him

19 year old Alana is in love with a 43 year old man name Chandler. What's wrong with that you might ask? Well that man happens to be married and her father's best friend since childhood. Will they come clean or will the frustration of sneaking around get to them both?

In which an eighteen-year-old succumbs to an older man . . . "I can't resist him, even though I tried. Call me weak, pathetic, my ears are deaf except if it's his voice they're listening to. Because no matter what, just one touch and I'm at his mercy."

❝Like a work of art he had been dying to put on display.❞ Verani Adams finds herself unhappy with the way she's led her life. Between dealing with the consequences of her career choices, the burden to find romance in an era of one night stands, and most of all, figuring out how to fulfill her endless desire for a thrill in everything she does, she decides to apply for an internship in her final year of college, at one of the most profound museums in the city of Paris: Musée de l'Érotisme. Described otherwise as, a museum dedicated to sex. Face to face with the taboo nature that surrounds her job, she meets Damien Dupont, the head director of the renowned museum. Vera learns early on that his expertise goes beyond the creative field, following him into his personal life, and she can't help but feel curious about the various tastes he indulges in. As for him, he gets what he wants, and his eyes are set on the girl in red. *Unedited, this completed version is the first draft. Currently in revision.* 18+ MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.

BOOK THREE OF THE BLACK SERIES *this book CANNOT be read as a stand-alone* -- "Get the hell off of me, Lucian," I snapped angrily, smacking the palm of my hands on his muscular back as he carried me out of the club. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" It wasn't until he carried me upstairs and into a VIP room that he set me on my feet. I wobbled from the combination of my heels and the alcohol finally reaching my brain. It didn't stop me from glaring at him, but he just stared back, his eyes blank. As always. He's never been a talker, unlike me. What the hell was he even doing here? "You can't just walk on the dance floor and throw me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes," I snapped, trying to get passed him. "I'm not a kid anymore, Lucian, okay? I'm not yours to protect - I never have been!" Hearing those words must have triggered him because he snapped. Lucian roughly grabbed me by the waist and pushed me against the cold wall, his body pressed right against mine. My eyes widened in shock and I met his blazing glare, feeling his hand creep up to my hair and twist it in his knuckles. I tried to force the lump down my throat but felt the confidence leave my body. "I can do damn well as I please when I see my woman dancing with a man who would want nothing more than to take her back to his place," he growled out, tilting my head up by my hair. Our lips were almost touching. I suddenly can't breathe. "You're mine, Mia," he spoke, this time his words low and raspy. "You always have been - never fucking forget that."

BOOK TWO OF THE BLACK SERIES *CANNOT be read as a stand-alone* -- "I mean, let's face it, Hayden," Casey said with a humourless laugh, looking away from me and out at the city of white lights, "you don't want me. You want the thought that you managed to get with me - all of your friends are expecting it, my friends and family are expecting it to happen... it's not long before you wanting me changes and you see how messed up I really am." My eyes narrowed and I turned to face her, grabbing her by the jaw so I was staring into her dark eyes. Casey's breath hitched in her throat and she chewed on her lip, tears gathered in her eyes as our eyes met. "I don't give a flying fuck about what they want to hear or what they expect to happen between us, Casey," I told her, wiping a stray tear away. I smiled when she sniffled. "Stop thinking so much about what other people do and don't expect, alright? I damn well know how insane your family is but I also know how much better you are from them, and it's the good in you that makes me fall deeper with every date we go on." When I cupped her cheek with one hand, Casey's alarmed eyes relaxed and she slowly leaned into my touch, sighing quietly. I pressed my forehead to hers, smiling softly when she tried moving forward for our lips to meet. I pulled away last second, rubbing her bottom lip with my thumb. lol "I'm all yours, baby," I whispered, finally pressing our lips together.

BOOK ONE OF THE BLACK SERIES -- "Well, behalf of my dick, who cannot speak for himself," Kade said simply as he watched over my face, one of his eyebrows risen, "I would like to say for him that he doesn't care about my brother's feelings at this current moment - or his reaction to the photo." "Well, I do," I muttered, my sentence coming out muffled in my hands as they covered my face. "Do you know how this makes me look to the public eye? To be sleeping with my boyfriend's older brother?" "Look on the bright side, Em." I didn't even spare him a glance as I shook my head, grunting. "Emara, look at me." My hands were pulled away and Kade stared at me, his vibrant blue eyes twinkling and his dirty blonde hair covering his eyebrows. The sight of his effortless beauty made my hard glare slightly soften. "You know I won't tell him if he finds out, you know me," he mumbled to me, "but I'm not going to lie to him when he finds out and say that if I had the chance to change what we've been doing, I wouldn't - because I would do it again without a second thought."

He swiped my sweat-soaked hair off my neck, resting his lips against my ear. His fiery breaths blew across my earlobe. My body shuddered once again, craving more of him. "You're not the first woman to think she could seduce me into bed because of who I am, what I write. And you won't be the last." He gave a small chuckle, pulling down my dress, so it covered me. "But," he said in a low growl, "so far...... you're my favorite." Breaths poured from my lips at those words. My heart fluttered inside my pounding chest. His favorite, my brain stuck to his words like glue. Clinging to the small hope we'd continue this somewhere else, more than once. We stayed in that position for a moment before his body heat disappeared from my back. He lit a cigarette in front of me, the flash of the lighter illuminating his flushed, sweat-soaked face. I leaned against the brick wall, finding comfort in the coolness against my heated skin. His eyes met mine again. I didn't think I could move from the spot, but he forced me to when he held up a red, lacy thong in between his fingers. My red lacy thong. Fucking panty thief! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Their worlds collided in a heated, passion-filled hook-up behind a bar, bringing their broken pieces together. And now? Mercy finds herself as C.J. Cole's intern. The very Mr. Cole who wrote the most romantic, erotic books she had ever laid eyes on. How could she manage to keep her panties on around him? Or control herself? Hint: she won't. Mature warning.

Book 2 of the My Boss series. He came at me out of nowhere, terrifying me for a brief moment. But I'm not the girl I used to be when I lived in Charleston, I'm stronger now. Lars Moretti made me realize the strength I really held, Lars Moretti made me realize I deserve better than this, Lars Moretti made me realize I can stand up for myself. In my moment of thought, my attacker had the chance to grab me by the throat and slam me to the ground, kicking me in my gut, throwing my newly fragile body feet away from him. My eye sight is hazy, and I'm trying to make sense of everything happening as he stalks towards me. My memories flash in my head, for a quick second. All I can hear are the names he's called me. All I can feel are his hands on me. All I can comprehend, is the abuse I went through because of him. With my anger rising, I grab my concealed handgun, feel my finger on the trigger, and before I know it, my ears are ringing from the explosion of the gun. I look in horror at the sight before me. Mike lays on the ground, dead. "Oh my god, I.....I....kil....killl.....killed someone" I say, stunned. And in that moment, there's no thinking, there's no hesitating. In that moment, I know there's only one person I can call about something like this. Lars Moretti.