"you gotta show me you not like these other ni**as , cause I'm not like these other b*tches*"

They moved to Jamaica at fourteen-two strangers, running from two very different hells. Strangers to each other, yet bounded by timing and fate. Kali fled a toxic home in Puerto Rico. One that look picture perfect on the outside. Adonis, a legacy in the making, wanted no part of his father's world. One photo changed everything. Adonis was hooked-until lies turned infatuation into deep-rooted hate. She never even knew his name. Years later, their paths collide during a heated altercation at a supermarket. Sparks fly-but not the good kind. Soon after, Kali transfers to Adonis's school and unknowingly steps into his friend group, setting the stage for a collision course neither of them can escape. Every glare. Every tense silence. Every accidental touch. It all builds into a dangerous chemistry neither of them is ready for. In a world where trust is fragile and love feels like war, Adonis and Kali must decide: will they destroy each other-or become each other's greatest salvation? Follow for more😉😉

It's something I can't explain just the things that you do

Armanii is Jamaica's newest dancehall star lighting up the charts and your TikTok feed, but don't get it twisted, he's over the "internet artiste" label and dead serious about proving he's the real deal. Behind the hype, the chains, and the stage lights? A man dealing with the cold, quiet side of fame. Then boom! Alisa Miller enters the chat. Straight out of New York, privacy and unbothered girl in her own lane. Love? Not on her to-do list. She's focused, intentional, and allergic to drama. So how do they end up next to each other on a flight to Jamaica? One little seat mix up and suddenly it's vibes, side-eyes, and unexpected sparks. She's not here for the noise, but Armanii? He's intrigued. One missed DM, one flight, and suddenly he's chasing more than just hit songs. Thing is, Alisa's quiet life and Armanii's loud world? Oil and water. Paparazzi, secrets, temptation, and trust issues? That's just Tuesday. But maybe, just maybe, the right kind of chaos can make the sweetest music. So buckle up because this love story is messy, magnetic, and way too real. And yuh see Armani and Alisa? Dem might just be each other's favorite Rough Patch.

He rested the gun on my lips and stared angrily in my eyes. "Yuh know mi will buss a shot inna yuh throat Kehlani doh ramp wid mi badness likkle girl" him seh and I rolled my eyes. Mi nuh inna the bag a chattings tonight, mi just want him inna mi. Using my tongue I glide it over the top of his gun looking up at him seductively. He hissed "yah guh be the death a mi tpc" Two people from rivalry gang meet up....what could go wrong??

Asia-Naye here, I was the best in the game-slick, untouchable, and raking in cash from sweet-talking rich men over the phone and when it calls for, in person. Then one slip-up put me on the FBI's radar. Now I have a problem: work with them or kiss my freedom goodbye. Their terms? Pretend that I'm engaged to their top agent, Special Agent Kuran Minks, while he tries to protect me, I try to keep myself out of trouble. But by the looks of it, I bet he'll write me letters when I'm in prison. (From Minks, With Love) written by Dainiel Douglas/Prezii/Theebookgirly

What's one thing that's every mortician's fear you might ask? I mean what fear should one have when they are literally dealing with the dead? Well....for Alafia Harris there's only one fear that lurks in the walls of Pearl's Funeral Home. The fear of a body that's been pronounced dead somehow coming alive. That's impossible! One might say....but is it? ✗ Disclaimer⚠️! This book will contain -graphic mentions of death, -torture -sexual intercourse -Gore -Stalking -etc It is merely fiction, therefore treat it as such. NO THIS IS NOT A DUPPY STORY... Nothing written within this book is morally acceptable by the writer. However, this is Wattpad and there's no sense of morality here. Do not read if you may be uncomfortable!

ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ʀᴀɪꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ʙᴜᴛ ꜱʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏ. ɪᴍᴀɴɪ - ᴀ ᴋɪɴɢꜱᴛᴏɴ ɢɪʀʟ, ʀᴀɪꜱᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜɪᴇʟᴅ ʜᴇʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ...ᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ. ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴜɪʟᴛ ᴏɴ ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ... ɴᴏᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ, ꜱʜᴇ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴄʜᴀꜱɪɴɢ ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇ. ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ...ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ. ʀᴏᴍᴀʀɪᴏ "ᴘᴀʙʟᴏ ʏɢ" ᴀ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏʀᴛʜ ᴄᴏᴀꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ʙɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴇɴᴅꜱ... ʀᴀɪꜱᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʟᴏʏᴀʟᴛʏ, ᴘʀᴇꜱꜱᴜʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇ...ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ. ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ. ꜰᴀᴍᴇ. ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ. ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇꜱᴛʏʟᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ... ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰɪxᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʜɪᴍ. ʟᴏꜱꜱ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʜɪᴍ. ᴘᴀɪɴ ꜱʜᴀᴘᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ. ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ʜᴇ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴇꜱ...ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ʟᴇꜰᴛ. ᴛᴡᴏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ. ᴛᴡᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʏᴇᴅ ꜱᴇᴘᴀʀᴀᴛᴇ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ... ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ꜱᴏᴍ