Trust is the world's most notorious rockstar-reckless, rebellious, and impossible to control. Rules mean nothing to him, and neither does the polished image his management desperately tries to protect. Despite the fame, sold-out arenas, and constant headlines, he refuses to stop being human. Naya prefers life behind the scenes. A gifted songwriter with crippling stage fright, she's content writing hits for everyone else while staying far away from the spotlight. Responsible, cautious, and always following the rules, she's the complete opposite of Trust. When a career-threatening scandal leaves Trust needing to repair his public image, and Naya needs a convincing way to keep her persistent ex out of her life, they strike a strictly professional fake-dating agreement. No feelings. No complications. No crossing the line. But pretending to be in love becomes a lot harder when every staged kiss, lingering glance, and late-night conversation starts to feel real. The biggest lie they ever told the world might end up being the truth they never saw coming.

A hyper-fixated control freak with an empire to inherit. A self-made day trader who lives in the volatility. He runs on rigid rules; she breaks every single one. --------------------------------------------------------------------- The heavy oak door of the archives clicked shut behind me at 7:12 PM. Twelve minutes late. Kane was already waiting in the dim, quiet alcove. His posture was rigid, his laptop aligned perfectly parallel to the edge of the mahogany table, his dark eyes fixed on the silver watch resting against his wrist. The calm, sweet golden-boy mask was nowhere to be found-only the cold, unyielding precision underneath. "Twelve minutes, Amelia," Kane murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he slowly stood up, closing the distance between us until I was backed against the edge of the high bookshelf. The scent of rain and fresh cedar rolled off him, heavy and suffocating. "Twelve minutes of uncalculated delay." "The market swung two hundred points at close, Sterling," I shot back, my pulse hammering against my ribs as I tilted my head up to meet his dark, furious gaze. "I was locking in a six-figure profit while you were staring at the clock." "I don't give a damn about the profit," he rasped, leaning in until his breath brushed against my lips, trapping me completely in his space. His hand slammed onto the wood right beside my head, his knuckles white with tension. "I care that you think you can walk into my life, blow up my schedule, and drive me completely out of my fucking mind without consequences." I held my breath, the air between us suddenly thin, charged, and dangerous. "Then handle it, Sterling," I whispered, my voice barely a thread, refusing to back down. "Or are you afraid to touch something you can't control?" ---------------------------------------------------------------------

"Stop apologising." So I did. Then I apologised for stopping. I'm the girl who eats lunch alone and tells herself she chose it. A girl who's never been kissed, who hides behind books and oversized jumpers and a smile that says please don't look at me. Malakai Vashko looks at me anyway. Six foot seven, Russian, with knuckles that never heal and eyes the colour of something cold and far away. He fights men twice his size for money and walks out of rooms without explaining himself to anyone, and his enemies have learned not to come for him. They come for the people standing next to him instead. He told me he didn't need a friend, and to stop looking at him like he might be one. I should have listened. But I'd already caught him trying to buy flowers for someone who couldn't receive them anymore, and something in me understood him before my brain caught up. He hides with silence and fists. I hide with silence and books. I didn't fix him and he didn't save me, but the night I grabbed an underground boxer by the hoodie outside a corner shop and told him to stop, something started that neither of us knew how to end. "I don't do this," he told me. "I don't let people in." He still doesn't smile. But he stayed. ------------------ ⚠️ Mature themes: violence, dark content. No explicit sexual content.

After escaping a toxic relationship, 24-year-old Elena Morales moves into a rundown apartment with her four-year-old son, determined to rebuild their lives from nothing. Love is the last thing on her mind. Especially when the man living next door looks like trouble wrapped in tattoos and silence. Luca Bennett is the kind of man people avoid - cold, guarded, and impossible to read. But while everyone else keeps their distance, Elena's son Noah becomes attached to him instantly. What starts as shared dinners, repaired toys, and late-night conversations slowly turns into something Elena never expected: safety. But just as she begins to trust Luca with her heart, the past she ran from comes crashing back into her life. And this time, she might lose more than just herself. A slow-burn single parent romance full of tension, healing, found family, and the kind of love that feels like home.

[-] "He saw all the stars in the solar system in her eyes." ••••••• Delani Taylor is the type of girl who wears silk ribbons in her hair and sketches anything and everything. She's blunt and straightforward; except for when comes to her feeling about her best friend. The sweetest boy who could always make the most trouble, and always listens to one person; his best friend. August Beckham had many happy places the stars, the hidden field of flowers behind the school, but most importantly; his best friend. ••••••• "Delani, Imma cum." I grit through my teeth. It was at the point I had to close my eyes because if I continues to watch at her ride me I would cum in a matter of seconds. "Can you hold it for me? I'm almost there baby, I promise." She saids through shallow breaths. My legs start to tremor as I threw my head back against the comforter when I feel her tighten around me, "Fuck I-" I felt a tinge of embarrassment when my words turn into a whimper. "You're doing so good, August. So fucking good." She moans. ••••••• Book Two of the Beloved Series Can be my read as a stand alone. 6/16/22- 1/1/23

When 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬, 22, drops out of college after her father is sentenced to prison for a crime he swears he didn't commit, her life collapses fast...eviction notices, unpaid tuition, a mother barely holding it together. Then 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐭 𝐕𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐧 appears. Late 40s. Private wealth. No digital footprint. He offers her a monthly allowance for companionship only. No sex. No exclusivity clause. No explanations. What unsettles Kailani isn't the money. It's how little she needs to explain herself because he already knows.

Landing a job with the Los Angeles Lakers is everything Nylah Morgan has worked for. She refuses to let anyone stand in the way of the career she's built. Then she meets Malcolm Carter. The Lakers' golden boy. Jersey #7. The league's most celebrated shooting guard... and the media's biggest headache. He's talented, arrogant, impossible to manage, and completely uninterested in following anyone's advice-especially hers. And the one player who seems determined to test her patience every chance he gets. He's arrogant. She's stubborn. He's used to getting his way. She refuses to back down. As cameras flash and headlines spread, the world only sees Malcolm Carter, the basketball star. Nylah is about to discover the man they never write about. Off the Record.

Ophelia Stark is the backbone of Bettendorf Enterprises. As the sharp-witted, impeccably organized P.A. to the company's founder, she's spent years ensuring the multi-billion dollar empire runs like a well-oiled machine. When her boss announces he's taking an indefinite sabbatical, Ophelia assumes she'll be the one guiding the transition. What she didn't expect was for the keys to the kingdom to be handed to the one man she can't stand...Malcolm J. Bettendorf. Malcolm is a legend, but for all the wrong reasons. A former American football star with a jawline that cuts glass and a reputation that keeps the tabloids in business, he's more comfortable in a nightclub than a boardroom. The transition is anything but smooth. Between Malcolm's unconventional "locker room" leadership style and Ophelia's rigid professional standards, the office becomes a battlefield. But as the late-night strategy sessions turn into deep-tissue conversations, the line between professional disdain and personal desire begins to blur. Malcolm discovers that Ophelia is the first woman who doesn't want his money or his fame, she wants his respect. Meanwhile, Ophelia begins to see the vulnerability of a man struggling to find his identity off the field. The road to love is paved with corporate sabotage and public scrutiny. With a board of directors waiting for Malcolm to fumble and a vengeful ex-flame looking to ignite a scandal, the stakes have never been higher. As secrets from Malcolm's past threaten to dismantle the Bettendorf legacy, Ophelia must decide if she's protecting the company or the man who has finally tackled his way into her heart. WARNING ⚠️: This book contains lots of sex scenes. And that's because it is my duty to feed your imaginations ...thank you 💖

He watches. He waits. He chooses. Lorenzo De Rossi-Il Falco. A man who controls everything-his empire, his enemies... and the city that fears his name. Until her. Mia was never meant to be part of his world. Brilliant. Guarded. Far too observant for her own good-seeing the cracks in a man no one dares question. What begins as a moment... becomes something far more dangerous. An obsession. And in Lorenzo's world, obsession isn't a weakness. It's a liability. Pulled into a life built on power, loyalty, and blood, Mia is forced to navigate a man who doesn't ask-he decides. A man who watches her like claiming her is inevitable. But Mia isn't something to be owned. And Lorenzo isn't a man who lets go. When secrets unravel and war threatens everything he's built, one truth becomes clear: Loving her might cost him his empire. But losing her? Isn't an option.

I cupped her face, planting a soft kiss on her beautiful lips. "Don't ever run from me, baby," I said softly, letting my thumb trace her jaw. "I love the chase." Her jaw tightened, her hands coming up to try and move mine. "Stop calling me baby, Ezra," she snapped, eyes flashing. I couldn't help but grin, dropping my voice to something low and dark. "Ohhh, now my baby has a problem with me calling her baby?" She shot me a glare, but I just tucked her hair behind her ear, pressing another kiss to her lips-gentler this time, lingering. "You don't get to tell me what to call you, baby." I leaned in closer, brushing my nose against hers. "You're whatever the fuck I call you."