First, Florence. Second, Kira. Then Josey, Tess, and Meena. Now, it's Lara. His New Personal Maid. "Lara, if you're rolling around in his bed-" "I'm not-" Lara growled, and Brie went on, "I said if, not when. Well, the point is, you'll be doing yourself more harm than good." "It's like, he has this strange sexual attraction to his personal maids. Like an obsession. He's got a fetish for his personal maids." Lara Keegan, 19 years old, has just been assigned to Mrs. Benson's son, Jayden, who has just graduated from uni- as his new personal maid. Mrs. Benson has set a couple of rules for all ten maids in the house, which Lara intends not to break. As his new personal maid, Lara discovers a lot of hidden information about past personal maids, secrets, and sees things that could get her, the other maids, or the other family members in trouble. She realizes that there's a lot more that goes on behind every innocent smile. *** #1 in General Fiction 06-05-18 #21 in Romance May 2020 #26 in Teen Fiction 20th May 2020 Cover by @spratleymac ❤

Harry doesn't believe in coincidences. Neither should she.

"Do you hear me, Styles? You get in, you get out. No screw-ups, no loose ends, and no witnesses." ***** Harry was a notorious assassin for one of the largest organized crime groups in the business. He abandoned almost every emotion except for anger at a young age after he was forced to learn that life wasn't always fair. Even though he is one of the most feared men in the world, it still wasn't enough for him. Nothing would be enough for him until he got the one thing that he desired most: revenge. Harry was used to everyone shaking in fear around him, and no one dared to talk back to him. That is until he met her. Tate. The spitfire girl who worked at one of the most popular restaurants in London. The girl who, even in the face of death, wouldn't hesitate to throw out a sarcastic remark. She was smart, she was brave, she was witty, and she was everything that Harry wasn't expecting. This is Witness... a story about vengeance, death, mystery, greed, and two people from opposite worlds, who know nothing about each other but whose entire futures depend on each other, they just don't know it yet. || MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK|| || ONGOING || HIGHEST RANKINGS: -#1 in hsau -#1 in hs -#1 in adrenaline -#1 in gangharry -#1 in assassin -#5 in mafiaharry -#11 in slowburn -#12 in harryedwardstyles -#38 in styles -#41 in niallhoran -#43 in onedirection -#53 in suspense -#65 in fighting -#89 in fiction -#93 in gangs #115 in harry -#116 in darkharry -#123 in drama -#174 in mafia -#218 in harrystyles -#664 in love

We're all mad here, it's Wonderland. ~ Harry latches onto my passionate on-beat arms as he keeps me from moving forward. "Are you fuckin' mad?" He grits through his teeth. "I'm in Wonderland, Pretty Boy," I throw my free arm in the air, motioning to the surrounding world. "Of course, I've gone a little mad." He flips me around as the level of infuriation rises throughout his clenched jaw, trying to remain composed. "Don't try and be something you're not, Presley." I rip away from his hold, furrowing my brows from the curt statement, the honest revelation that should've just stayed within his mind. "We'll never be the heroes, and you know that," he says, colder than the Arctic's towering waves. "We'll never win." We'll never find Purple. Purple, the color of the Star-Crossed Lovers.

In which an eighteen-year-old succumbs to an older man . . . "I can't resist him, even though I tried. Call me weak, pathetic, my ears are deaf except if it's his voice they're listening to. Because no matter what, just one touch and I'm at his mercy."

"Either you become a cheater and fuck me, or you break up with her and still fuck me. I'll win either way." . . "I usually get everything I want. But it wasn't the same case with him. I could show off my sweet smile and flutter my lashes, but that still wouldn't make him mine." At the ripe age of nineteen, it's an understatement to say that Aurora Amoretto's love life is a bit... bland. But what she has yet to discover, is that there will be a certain man who will change that.

*CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT* Have you ever met someone that made falling feel like flying? ~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~ Preview: "Do you think, if you jumped from this roof - it'd feel like falling or flying?" I ask, keeping up with our theme of asking random useless questions that we've been going back and forth with for the past half hour. I stare at my feet swinging back and forth, looking down at the alleyway behind the building; pondering the question over in my head that I often wonder too much about. I glance over to Harry when he doesn't answer straight away and he's watching me with a look I can't read. "Unless you were a bird or could fly, it would just feel like falling. Because you'd know you were going to hit the ground" he decides to answer, staring at me like he's somewhat bothered that I asked him that. I look back down at the ground, and shrug my shoulders, "I think if you didn't care about hitting the ground it could feel like flying for a few seconds." ~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~ STARTED 11TH MARCH 2019 - ONGOING

***completed*** NOW PUBLISHED ON AMAZON Harry Styles. The strange one. The freak. The one who was too kind for his own good, trapped in a world where his job was to bring people pain. Sophia 'Spice' Winters. The dancer. The stripper. The one who who trapped in a world where her job was to provide men with nothing but pleasure. -- "What don't you understand?" Harry seethed, his hands gripping the roots of his hair. "I'm not the good guy here, Sophia. I'm bad, everything about me is fucking bad." Harry looked as if he was about to rip his hair out, his wild eyes shinning with madness. He looked unhinged, raw and angry. It should of frightened me. That look alone should of been enough to send me running. He didn't look like the shy man I first met. He looked...crazy. His fingers were coated in red, stained with the blood of another. He didn't seem to care though. "If I was you Sophia, I would run away. Run as far away as you possibly can, because I promise you...An evil part of me won't let you go, and I hate myself for that. I want you to run away, to a place that I can't ever find you. You'll be safe that way."

Don't you call her baby. We're not talking lately. Don't you call her what you used to call me... A story in which a girl who writes songs falls in love with the boy who sings them. "Color...What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams." - Paul Gauguin. DO NOT PRINT MY BOOKS! *TW: story contains mature topics such as mental abuse, PTSD, minor drug usage, and minor sexual content.*

Aubrey Wilson has the heart of an angel. As the type of person to always trust in others, she's admirable to peers. A total darling, but with a sadness that encases her heart. Anyone could shrink down in fright at the receiving end of Luke Taylor's infamous glare. Tall, muscular, dark-haired, and handsome, he's no stranger on or off the field. Not a kind stranger either. A total brooding asshole, but with a sadness that encases his heart. --- "You didn't have to hit him or anything," I lie my head on his broad, strong shoulder. "He shouldn't have touched you like that," he tucks a curl behind my ear. ~Strong Language~ ~Mild Violence~