When an 18 year-old Marine replies to an email meant for an advice columnist, the girl on the other end can't help but be hooked on his every word. Wes Lee, a US Marine on leave, is the accidental recipient of an email intended for an advice columnist. Even though he knows he shouldn't, Wes can't stop himself from answering the sender's cry for help. Morgan Mayfield, the high school senior who sent the email, is more than startled to received Wes's reply. But what he says to her resonates, and his advice might be just the thing she needs to break free from the life she hates.

When college student Emmy joins an online support group at the encouragement of her therapist, the last thing she expects is to connect with the lead singer of the most famous rock group in the world. ***** Emmy has had a rough couple of years, to say the least. So when her psychologist recommends that she joins an online support group, she thinks she knows what to expect. But the back and forth e-mails between her and famous rock singer Johnny Decker are the last thing she ever counted on. Despite the world of differences between them, Emmy can't help but feel like she knows Johnny better than she knows herself. Supportive emails turn into a growing friendship, and Emmy is grateful to finally have someone who understands. Soon, life without Johnny seems unthinkable, but is there hope for them in the offline world? [[word count: 70,000 - 80,000]] Cover designed by Ashley Bandy Spin-off to Holding onto You Trigger warning: This story contains swearing, mature themes, sexual content and references to substance abuse.

THE BANDIT She merely meant to steal and get away with it. She did not mean to find a dying woman and be chased for it. She merely meant to help. She did not mean to be dressed in a gown and be a target for murder. THE GUARD He was tasked to chase them. He was not expected to work with them. He merely meant to pay for an oddly professional service. He was not expecting it to be complicated and sexually dangerous. (This story is a title in the Everard Family series.)

When Narnie Larson moves from the chaotic glamor of San City to the quiet streets of Holden, she doesn't expect to encounter Ezra Parker. Brooding, gentle, and scarred by a tragic past, Ezra is unlike anyone she's ever known. Drawn together by midnight conversations and fleeting adventures, they fall into a bond that feels fated: achingly beautiful, yet always on the brink of collapse. But Holden is no haven. Beneath its picket fences lies a town teeming with secrets. As its strangeness unravels, Narnie must confront what it means to love someone who was never hers to keep, and what it might cost to try.

Sometimes it's as if you forget I'm human. I am a woman made of skin and bone. I am not a piece of machinery you assembled. You can break me in ways that you can't fix. It's easy to replace your things when they break, but I am my own design. I am not one of your gadgets you can toy with. I wasn't created to be controlled by you, and you can't gear me to your liking. My affection isn't a game you can download from the app store. I am not yours to play with. Sometimes it's as if you forget you're human. You're not a machine, even if you operate like one. You're not made of circuit boards and cold aluminum. Love is not a program that can be encoded into your software. You are a man, made of skin and bone. You're a man incapable of feeling anything real. But you will find there are things technology can't provide for you. One day you won't be able to function, and no update or restore can fix you. Copyright © 2022 Winona Wild. All rights reserved.

Conversations between a self-professed narcissist and a baby-faced coffee-addict at ungodly hours.

A reluctant study in adulthood. Featuring: quiet kite-lover Jürgen Lilienthal, reckless and self-defeating optimist Leena Mathew, handsome pre-med Omar Madane, and of course, Mr. Brandolini himself. {spiritual #57}

Oh I know I love you/ so please/ throw down your hair

Nora Blake repels ordinary. Adam Clarke is constructed entirely of ordinary. ● ● ● "I don't want to share you with the galaxy, Nora Blake," he says quietly, and all at once, all the stars inside my chest are being flung across the universe at full speed and for that particular moment, I am untethered. Unrooted. Flowing. Floating. Something. He doesn't have to, I think, instantly. I am vaguely aware of the fact that I am a kind of traitor: but there is no heavy stone of betrayal in my chest. The galaxy will wait. It will wait until this beautiful boy flings my fragile heart across the universe at full-speed, but right now, I'm so full of it that I don't even care. Look at that. Nora Blake gives up the galaxy. I look at him, then, and there's so much color oozing out of his perfect, jagged cracks that I feel like I'm in one of Nadia's Leonid Afremov paintings and there's a supernova in my chest. "You don't have to," I tell him, so quietly that I don't think he hears. His delicate rose-pink mouth is curved into a kind of frown and his baby-blue gray-flecked gaze is lost somewhere far, far away from the devoid town of Enfield. I recognize that much, and I wonder momentarily if he has his own galaxy somewhere. I don't want to share him either, I think.