"Tóso ómorfi," someone almost growled behind me. My heart jolted with shock in my chest as I shrieked and whirled around. An imposing man stood before me, his almost-black eyes full of desire. The sleek tuxedo he was wearing fitted the broad expanse of his torso like a second skin. His sun kissed complexion was without flaw and a shadow crept across the shape of his clean shaven jawline. I could smell the bittersweet musk of his aftershave from where I was standing. He was the human vessel of Adonis. In less than two steps, he had strode forwards until he was right in front of my face. I could not breathe. The air was as heavy as lead in my lungs. A second passed. He paused-I allowed the moment I had to recoil from him to dissipate around us-and he gripped my chin hard and pushed his mouth fiercely over mine. I was paralyzed and my mind raced. Why was he in the women's toilets? Frances Hayward is a journalist known for her ice queen demeanour-despite her popular articles discussing the do's and don'ts of romance as alter ego Valerie D'Voire. She is also cursed with the burden of keeping her emotions in check after an accident in her past. Ensuring her dormant state is natural for Frances, but tensions run high and remaining in control proves difficult when she meets Greek bachelor Mr Krieos.

"Fuck you!" I hissed as he held me back from punching him. For a split second his grip loosened, giving me the opportunity to slap him again - yet as soon as I tried to hit him, he swiftly pushed me backwards, causing my back to collide with the wall. Still struggling, I looked up to see his obsidian eyes piercing into my own before he quickly cupped my face and roughly pressed his lips against mine.' Sixteen year old Louise 'Lou" Whitlock was minding her own business when a sudden turn of events hurls her in debt with hot headed Zachary Caldwell, the twenty four year old owner of the well-known Ebony Records company. However, after their initial hatred for one another, it becomes clear there's something more than what meets the eye between them, smouldering beneath the surface. With a large age gap, various love interests and many other obstacles to overcome, will they manage to stay together?

[This is a spin-off of The DILF but can be read as a stand-alone] [The story you are about to read is intended for readers age 18+ due to its sexual content and language. It may not be appropriate for all audiences. Please read at your own discretion.] There was nothing Ophelia wanted better than to gouge Nikolai's long-lashed, consuming blue eyes out with a butter knife and mail them to the rest of the Alvonich family. Too bad they were in a very public, very esteemed place - Mikhail's wedding. "You don't think I'll press the button?" Nikolai's breath was warm and teasing in her ear. Ophelia had no idea what possessed her to take up his challenge of a vibrating thong, except that it was too late to back out now. She turned to glance at the infuriating man beside her. "Honestly, I don't care. It won't affect me." "Sweet Ophelia," he whispered, surprising her by flicking his tongue into her ear. Jumping, she glared at him, ignoring the important guests at her table, her father included. Before she could curse at Nikolai, he pressed the button, the swearwords turning to soft moans under her breath. Gripping the edge of the table, Ophelia felt the attack on her cl!t like a burn to her skin. Her father shot her a concerned look from across the table and Nikolai's voice was again in her ear. "Before the end of the night, Ophelia, we will f**k," he promised, releasing his finger from the remote control. "Only this time, it will be my name you scream."