Captain Cole Stanley was a man bound to the sea and lands beyond the stifling industry of London. There was no space in his busy lifestyle for a woman, especially not a prim little miss like Oriana Brightmore. Yet despite her shyness, there appeared to be an underlying wit and spirit to her personality that Cole begins to find irresistible. Oriana always thought that her future-husband should be charming and even-tempered; none of which belonged to Captain Stanley- the odious guest residing with the Ashcroft's for a short spell. Although the obnoxious man vexed her beyond reason, he also may just be her only solution to finding a man who will want her- one that was currently on his way to the Americas.

Book 1 of The Fae. Harmony is a woman who grew up believing in fairies and knowing she was blessed by the fae. Hatch is a man who grew up believing in nothing except the deceitfulness of women. Harmony thought she and Hatch had a magical connection until he betrayed her over a misunderstanding, and she discovered pain like she never knew. And a tiny little blessing that came out of it. When Hatch realizes Harmony's daughter is his, can he ever make up for not believing in her?

We were friends with benefits. Reed would stop by every time he was in Anchorage, and that was the extent of things, although I started to want more. Then he ended our arrangement, and I suspected there was another woman, but it wasn't until I overheard a conversation that I understood completely. He thought I was calling and texting because I couldn't take no for an answer. That wasn't my problem at all. Two blue lines were.

Independent Braylee Mitchells faces the prospect of falling in love with her new roomie: self-proclaimed player and long-time friend, Dominick Mulder, when a damaged apartment and old vows force them together... and make them possibly confront and deny something that has been in front of them all this time. *** Braylee Mitchells remembers what it was like to live with Dominick Mulder in university- as well as all her other friends. Now, ten years later, and despite a vow taken by all of them never to live together again, Dominick may just very well save the day (and her savings) when he takes on the task of becoming her roommate once again. With her apartment in need of costly repairs and her freelance career as a copywriter and editor struggling to cover the bills, Braylee's options seem limited. That is until she stumbles upon a charming country bungalow that seems like the answer to her prayers. The only catch? The rent is far beyond her means. Desperate to make ends meet and reluctant to burden her loved ones with her troubles, Braylee turns to Dominick for support. As they navigate the complexities of adulthood and the challenges of chasing their dreams, their friendship deepens into something more profound. But as Braylee and Dominick grow closer, they must confront their own fears and insecurities, navigating the blurred lines between friendship and something deeper. Will their bond withstand the tests of time, circumstance, and untold secrets, or will the weight of their individual struggles tear them apart? WARNING: This story contains depictions of narcissistic abuse (off-page), mature language and adult themes that may be upsetting to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

She just looked up at me, breath catching in her throat, eyes wide and wet beneath the streetlight. The pink of her dress shimmered under the glow, her skin gleaming like bronze polished by heat and defiance. "You want to dance drunk in some stranger's hands?" I demanded, jaw tight. "Fine. Just say it." She stared at me. Furious. Flushed. Shaking. Then she whispered, "Why does it matter so much?" I didn't answer. Couldn't. Because the truth would've ripped open everything. So it came out before I could stop it-low, guttural, the sound of something breaking free. "Because you're not theirs." She froze. And then... she stepped closer. Just a breath. Just a whisper of space left between us. "Then kiss me," she said, voice soft but certain. "You always stop. You always pull away. You tell me you notice me. That you protect me. But you never kiss me." She looked up at me, trembling. "So kiss me. Or let me go." I didn't move. Not for a heartbeat. Not for five. Because I knew what would happen once I did. There would be no turning back. Not for her. Not for me. She looked like sin and sweetness wrapped in fire and I'd already gone too long pretending I didn't want to burn. So I moved. One hand slid to her waist, dragging her closer. The other tangled in the back of her curls, angling her mouth to mine. And then I kissed her. God, I kissed her. Like she was the only source of oxygen left in the world. Like her lips were something I could consume. Like kissing her could fix every cracked, corrupted thing inside me. It wasn't gentle. It was possession. Teeth, tongue, breathless heat and broken restraint. Her mouth opened under mine. I took advantage tasting rum, rebellion and something so soft I nearly lost my balance. Her fingers gripped my jacket like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.She moaned into me. That sound soft, desperate, mine shot straight to the center of my chest. I deepened the kiss, groaning as her body arched into mine,

I froze. A man was slumped against the graffiti-covered brick wall, blood blooming across his side. His white shirt was soaked through, and there was a gun just inches from his open hand. My heart slammed against my ribs. Run, Skye. You should run. But I didn't. Instead, I dropped my bag and took a cautious step closer. His head lifted. Piercing, icy blue eyes met mine, sharp even through the haze of pain. His face was all sharp edges and shadowed scruff, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. His accent was thick and rough, like broken glass. "Leave." I shook my head slowly. "You're bleeding. Bad." "Not your concern." His voice was lethal, but he flinched hard when he tried to move. "You're gonna die out here," I whispered, kneeling beside him. My hands trembled as I pressed a napkin from my apron against his side. "I'm studying to be a nurse. Let me help." He stared at me like I was something he couldn't comprehend. A stranger. A softness he didn't trust. Then his hand, heavy and warm, clamped around my wrist-not rough, but firm. "What's your name?" he rasped. "...Skye." A beat passed. Then another. "I am Mikhail." His eyes darkened. "And you shouldn't have found me."

I cannot stay here long. I have stayed too long already. The town has started to know my shape. Her father knows my strength. Marcy knows my silence. Petals knows my face well enough to draw it. That is danger. A smart man leaves before roots form. A weapon does not grow roots at all. "What do people call you?" she asks softly behind me. Subject 249. Asset. Animal. Monster. The Russian word one guard used before I broke his jaw. A memory of a black-haired man snapping something over my shoulder with blood on his hands. Mikhail. Alexei. The name Alexei sits somewhere deep, but it is not reachable. Not fully. It feels like a locked door. It feels like a man who died at twenty-one and left me wearing his bones. I cannot give her that name. Not when I do not know if it is mine. Not when saying it might wake things that should stay asleep. So I choose the one I have used at the docks, the one written on no paper, the one old fishermen can pronounce without questions, the one that feels borrowed enough to abandon. "Nicholas," I say. Her voice is careful. "Nicholas." My hand tightens on the curtain. The name sounds different in her mouth. Less fake. That is dangerous too. "Nicholas," she repeats, softer this time, like she is testing the shape of it, like she is sketching it in the air. I let the curtain fall and turn back toward her. She is watching me with tired eyes, frightened but curious, still in pain, still too cold, still too beautiful for the small room. Every time I look at her, the plan changes. That is the problem. Before the store, I was leaving before deep winter. Before the drawing, I was leaving within a week. Before the snow, I was leaving tomorrow. Now she is here, wrapped in my blanket, her ankle in my bandage, my name in her mouth, and tomorrow feels impossible in a way I do not understand.

"Smoking is bad, you know." The placid voice speaks up from the distant dark corner, nothing to see but a tall silhouette and an orange glow of a cigarette cherry. "It's the least of my problems," I murmur with my own between my lips, proceeding to feel the stagnant debris valley my throat when I suck delicately. He exhales a chuckle of cynical amusement, his footsteps getting every step clearer to my eardrums until I eventually sense body heat burning my back. "And why is that?" He whispers over my shoulder, hands inviting themselves to grip the railing in front of me so I become a prisoner between his inked arms. I swallow. "Because you'll be the one to kill me first." // Aven Brooks is hired to take pictures for the world-renown punk rock band known today as Duplicity; hoping the experience gets her into her most elite-dreamed university. However, when her lenses accidentally capture more than just cheeky sound checks and performances, she comes to a horrifying discovery that Duplicity is anything but a band. Appalled and frightened, she's trapped. *HIGHEST RANKINGS* #1 IN HARRYSTYLES #1 IN ONEDIRECTION ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO @happydays1d NOT ALLOWING TRANSLATIONS! CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE / DRUG ABUSE / SEXUAL CONTENT / DESCRIPTIVE VIOLENCE / MENTAL HEALTH READ AT OWN RISK!

{SEQUEL TO MALIGNANT AND HIDEAWAY} MATURE READ! (18+) "Lay one finger on my daughter and I'll have you destroyed before the hours up." Harry and Amelia were ready to start the rest of their lives together, but what happens when the demons of his past hold them back? (BOOK 3/3) COMPLETED #1 in harrystyles #1 in onedirection ALL RIGHTS RESERVED @happydays1d/// CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT. READ AT OWN RISK///

BOOK 2/3 OF MALIGNANT SERIES (MATURE READ!) "We need to go, they're coming for us." He yells over the rain that's slapping repetitively against the cement. "For us?" I begin until he grabs my hand and pulls me down the road. "For you, Amelia. They want you. But they can't have you." "W-why?" I swallow the lump in my throat. "Because what's mine, is mine." Harry and Amelia's developed relationship has been tested to many extents, but what happens when their choices have made them both the most wanted people by other men just as dangerous as Harry? Not to mention some shocking surprises along the way. #1 IN FANFICTION #1 IN DARK #1 IN HARRYSTYLES BOOK (2/3) *COMPLETED* ALL RIGHTS RESERVED @happydays1d/// CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL CONTENT. READ AT OWN RISK///