Aurora Kensington has spent years trying to silence the voice in her head-the one that sounds too much like Briar Holloway. The girl who was once her best friend. The girl who came out to her. The girl she pushed away. Now eighteen, Aurora is desperate to prove she's everything she's supposed to be: a good daughter, a devoted Catholic, normal. But no matter how hard she prays, no matter how many rules she follows, she can't shake the feeling that something inside her is broken. And when she sees the lights on in the Holloway house for the first time in years, something deep in her chest stirs. She doesn't know Briar is back. Not until she turns around at a party and finds her standing there. Briar never planned to return to Chapelwood, but with her family drowning in debt and her grandmother's health failing, she had no choice. She tells herself she doesn't care about Aurora anymore-that she only came to this party because she thought it'd be funny. But the second their eyes meet, the past slams into her like a tremor. Old wounds. Old feelings. Ones that never truly faded. Because "love" (if you can call it that) like theirs doesn't disappear. It fractures. It festers. It trembles under the weight of everything unsaid. And if they're not careful, it might just swallow them whole. But none of it truly matters anyway. Not unless Aurora is willing to face the truth about herself. A story about love, sin, and the thin line between devotion and obsession.

Marisol has spent eight years chasing the ghost of a love she can never have, her best friend, Anais. She kisses strangers hoping to forget who her heart belongs to, but every touch, every scent, every late-night text drags her back to the one person she was never supposed to fall for. Because Anais is straight. And Sol? She's still diving deeper in the ocean called Anais with no way out.

Three words, eight letters. That's all it takes to ruin a friendship. One built over the years, filled with adoration and appreciation. They both know eight letters could ruin it all. What if it wasn't to break them but make them better? strong? But then again, it all boils down to who's going to say it first. ❦❦❦ "Aren't you just going to forget about me again?" "Forget you? Princess, I never stopped thinking of you."

When Isadora, a personal trainer from a wealthy family, falls for Roman, the heir to a deadly cartel, their intense connection is shattered by secrets and betrayal. As danger closes in, they must confront their pasts, fight for survival, and decide if love can exist in a world built on lies and violence. *** Los Angeles, also known as The City of the Angels. It's a fitting name for Los Ángeles del Armagedón, a cartel based in LA that runs the entire continent of South America. They're notorious, ruthless, and absolutely elusive. Well, apart from 26 year old Roman Ernesto Alvarez. Recently released from a two year stint in prison, he returns to the free world as the adopted heir to the most powerful cartel in South America. He's struggling to be back on the outside... until he meets her. Isadora Visente. She's a 23 year old personal trainer struggling with her parents' pressure to settle down and marry. Unknowingly, their slow-building but intensifying connection becomes Roman's unexpected anchor after his release. Her life working as a trainer in her gym is pretty mundane and repetitive, until she meets Roman, of course. Then it all gets a lot more interesting. *** "You sneaky little shit." Roman's eyes snapped over to me, or more accurately, towards my legs. There I stood in the middle of his room glaring at him, and he sat there with his beautiful eyes roaming over my exposed legs. He eventually dragged his gaze towards my upper half, but only for a second before it was back on my legs. "Damn." His voice was low and husky and just...perfect. Even if I was mad at him I couldn't deny that fact. "My eyes are up here, Roman." "Yeah, but your legs are down there." *** Part of the Costantino Universe

Veronika Koroleva Petrovna-Moscow's untouchable queen. The wealthiest, most powerful woman in Russia. A name that drips with arrogance, feared as much as it is revered. With a single glance, she ensnares. A presence so sharp it cuts. To her, people are nothing but pawns-disposable, forgettable, irrelevant. Trust is a currency too expensive to waste. Loneliness is not a curse; it is a necessity. No parents, no attachments, no weaknesses. Begging? Pleading? Nyet. That is beneath her. Luciana "La Reina" Monteserra-Madrid's deadliest shadow. A queen of ruin and carnage, cloaked in elegance. Cold. Calculating. Lacking even the pretense of empathy. She does not ask. She takes. What she touches, she owns. What she claims, she keeps. No one defies her. No one escapes her grasp. But Veronika? Veronika was the exception. The one thing she could never own.