La dernière fois que Mia est entrée dans cette forêt, elle a disparu sans laisser de trace. Onze ans plus tard, le jeune Henri s'installe dans la vieille cabane de son grand-père, pour la rénover et se confronter à lui-même. Il espère trouver un sens à sa vie en s'isolant dans cette forêt pleine de secrets. Et s'il trouvait bien plus ? 56000 mots environ. Histoire gagnante d'un #wattys2021 catégorie Mystère/Thriller. Thriller/mystère/drame/romance (Note de l'auteur : vous n'êtes pas seul.e.s... (regarde derrière toi !) )

Correction 44/76 Laylou vient de déménager dans une nouvelle ville quand elle sauve in extremis une petite fille qui manque de se faire renverser par une voiture. Croyant à mal, Tristan, son grand frère et, accessoirement le beau gosse badboy du lycée, s'en prend à Layou. Par un concours de circonstances, Tristan est contraint d'aller lui présenter ses excuses et leur relation repart sur de bonnes bases... quoique leurs caractères explosifs provoqueront mille étincelles et leur feront vivre plus d'un ascenseur émotionnel !

*COMPLETED* (Y.O.L.O stands for: YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE) *** Carter Jones, the school nerd, and Killian Henderson, the reputated troublemaker, somehow end up getting detention together. "How about we make a bet?" Offered Killian, his pistachio-green eyes drilling into mine as a playful smile lingered on his lips. "A bet?" I gulped, intimidated by how close he was sitting next to me. He nodded and raised four fingers, the ones with the letters "Y.O.L.O" tattooed on them, wriggling them in front of me with his ever-so-confident grin. "Four dares, Jones, just you and me." And that's how it all started. *** Rankings: #fiction #featured #queer #gay #depression #bl #youngadult #featured #comedy #bisexual #manxman #teen fiction #boyxboy #bxb #LGBT #romance Cover designed by Holly Thurston

"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN