Harry Styles; CEO of 'Pleasing', single dad to two children, prioritizes his job over anything else. Edora Winters; fresh out of college, a nursery practitioner living in the heart of Los Angeles, prioritizes her job over anything else. What happens when Edora, a woman who spends her time protecting children, comes across Harry, a man who spends his days neglecting his children? Even better, what happens when a drunken meet up in Las Vegas leads to a wedlock, to a child of their own, binding them together for years to come? STARTED: 6TH NOVEMBER 2021 FINISHED: 6TH NOVEMBER 2022

*CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT* "People only leave this town in a box 6ft tall and 2ft wide." *** It's 1998, Layla has gone on a one woman road trip to find inspiration and ends up in the middle of nowhere in the country. A quiet place called Clovertown. This leads her to The Lucky Lamb motel, and it's asshole of an owner. That's the least of her problems though. There's something not very lucky about this place. *** Story Start Date : TBA

** CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT** IMPORTANT: This book is a 'prequel' to Stall 1 & 2. PLEASE READ THOSE FIRST. **** "It all began in 2015. I was at my club... it was a regular night. But it's the night my life would change and I had no idea at the time." I slowly open my eyes, looking at the camera. "I guess I should talk about the first night I met Abby..." **** START DATE TBA.

♡ The year is 1994 and Harry is having a reawakening and discovery. ♡ By popular demand, the much-loved story from Harry Tales gets its very own book! Most Impressive Rankings //#1 in Discovery, #2 in Wattpride, #2 in Queer, #3 in Pride, #4 in Pansexual. Please read with discretion.

We're all mad here, it's Wonderland. ~ Harry latches onto my passionate on-beat arms as he keeps me from moving forward. "Are you fuckin' mad?" He grits through his teeth. "I'm in Wonderland, Pretty Boy," I throw my free arm in the air, motioning to the surrounding world. "Of course, I've gone a little mad." He flips me around as the level of infuriation rises throughout his clenched jaw, trying to remain composed. "Don't try and be something you're not, Presley." I rip away from his hold, furrowing my brows from the curt statement, the honest revelation that should've just stayed within his mind. "We'll never be the heroes, and you know that," he says, colder than the Arctic's towering waves. "We'll never win." We'll never find Purple. Purple, the color of the Star-Crossed Lovers.