𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗘𝗗𝗚𝗘 ❆ "Move, Carlisle." I kept my chin lifted, refusing to look away from the center of the ice. He didn't budge. Instead, a massive, bruised hand slammed flat against the cold glass beside my head, caging me in. The freezing air of the empty 2:00 AM arena suddenly felt suffocating. "You smile at everyone else like they hung the moon, Nadia," he murmured, his voice a low, vicious scrape. "But you look at me like I'm dirt." He leaned in, his chest brushing mine, his mouth stopping a breath away from my jaw. He left a smear of blood from his split lip on my pristine collar. "Keep looking at me like that," he whispered. "See what it makes me do." ⛸️ 𝑵𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒂 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍 has one rule: absolute perfection. If she loses her figure skating scholarship, she loses everything. She doesn't have time for distractions, and she certainly doesn't have time for the suspended, feral enforcer of the university's hockey team who steals her late-night ice time. 𝑽𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒏 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒆 is the university's star but brutal hockey player. Comes from old-money roots, built for violence, and entirely unhinged. He's used to people either bowing to his wealth or cowering from his temper. But Nadia? She just rolls her eyes and tells him to get out of her way. That was her first mistake. Now, Vaughn isn't just taking up her rink. He's watching her. Stalking her. Discovering the secret, raw passions she hides from the world. And he's decided that her flawless, untouchable world is exactly what he wants to shatter, and he won't stop until every broken piece belongs to him.

"You're shaking so fucking hard, Ryan... Is it because you're terrified of what I'll do to you, or because you're praying I finally ruin that innocent little brain of yours?" His breath stuttered. The pencil slipped from his fingers. "Madison... stop," Ryan whispered, voice strained, ears burning red. "You know we can't do this. I'm your tutor. This can't happen." I smiled against his skin, squeezing the very obvious bulge in his pants. "But baby," I purred, voice low and filthy, "your dick says otherwise."

W H I T E O U T ❅ The contract was simple: Two weeks. Two hundred grand. Don't fall in love. For 𝑱𝒐𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆, it's a desperate bid to survive her debt. For 𝑯𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒓, the cold heir to a billion-dollar empire, it's just business. Play the adoring girlfriend for his family's winter retreat, take the money, and leave. Then a blizzard hits. Stranded entirely alone in a remote mountain estate, the icy boundaries between them melt into a bruising, suffocating heat. But when the snow clears and the contract expires, Joelle quickly learns a terrifying truth: Hadrian Sinclair doesn't let go of what's his. The phone lines are cut. The snowplow is sabotaged. The doors are locked. The blizzard is over, but Joelle's nightmare is just beginning. Because the only thing more dangerous than a man with a frozen heart, is the monster that wakes up when it thaws. ❅ "The contract has expired, Hadrian. The roads are clear. Let me go." His pale eyes dropped to my lips, his thumb tracing the pulse racing at my throat. "What roads, Joelle? It's still snowing. We're snowed in. We'll be snowed in forever."

🩸Part 2 of Father Lazarus!!!🩸 ⚠️Warning ⚠️ WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ WILL MAKE YOU ADDICTED, DISTURB YOU. EVEN SHOCK YOU. THERE IS A DARK SIDE TO HUMANITY THE CENSORS WONT LET YOU SEE NOR READ...BUT I WILL. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

🔞⚠️ *** "Confess! Confess how much you get wet when I look at you while I'm on that podium, how your nipples harden sharply beneath your clothes, and how your skin blazes with heat every time my eyes lock onto yours." His words didn't merely reveal a secret; they ripped through me, sinking deep into my flesh and igniting a slow-burning fire beneath my skin. The warmth spread like wildfire, searing every nerve ending. His words tasted like sin-heavy, forbidden, intoxicating. His hands curved possessively around my waist, pulling me into the dangerous gravity of his presence, his breath whispering dark promises hot against the back of my neck. So close, so raw-his body pressed against mine spun a web of wicked temptation that made my knees weak and my thoughts slip free. I wanted to fall, to lose myself completely in this sin that we were weaving between us, hungry and unrepentant. Our love was a shadow creeping over sacred ground, forbidden as the fruit God guarded fiercely. Like Adam and Eve before us, we stood trembling on the edge of damnation, reaching for that tantalizing knowledge we were told to avoid. But this time, it wasn't Eve who tasted the fruit first -it was Adam. And Father Lazarus didn't just nibble quietly; no, he devoured the entire apple in one reckless, desperate bite, swallowing sin whole without pause. ******

Joelle Jordan is just trying to survive university and her life at home. Bryce Valentine is trying to survive everyone else. Projected first-round NFL draft pick. Campus celebrity. The most watched college athlete in the country. When the two strike a deal to trade study sessions for Bryce and personal training sessions for Joelle's little brother, everything seems simple enough. Then Bryce crosses the line. Now Joelle is trying to navigate a boy who is emotionally repressed, touch-starved, obsessively devoted, and surrounded by more pressure than any twenty-year-old should have to carry. Add the coaches, media attention, NIL deals, scouts, photo shoots, and Bryce's oppressive father. The pressure that comes with being attached to Bryce Valentine is something Joelle is not equipped for. Especially when she starts getting a little too comfortable with the fact that Bryce can't seem to leave her alone. [[Disclaimer: This story has not been edited yet!]]

Lee Do-hyun is South Korea's most famous actor-and its coldest. Quiet, intimidating, and fiercely protective of his one-year-old son, he's fired every nanny he's ever hired. Lyric Thompson, a bubbly foreign exchange student at Yonsei University, is just trying to survive Seoul with a part-time job and enough money to eat something besides ramen. After literally crashing into Do-hyun, she somehow ends up working as his son's nanny-the only person the child instantly loves. Now the grumpy actor and the sunshine college student are forced into each other's lives, where late nights, chaotic routines, and one adorable baby slowly turn cold walls into something warmer.

"Will it kill you to back the fuck up?" I snapped. "Yes, princess," he whispered sweetly against my ear, voice full of that sick affection. "It would. I would drop dead right here if I couldn't be next to you." "My lucky day," I muttered sarcastically.

"Stop apologising." So I did. Then I apologised for stopping. I'm the girl who eats lunch alone and tells herself she chose it. A girl who's never been kissed, who hides behind books and oversized jumpers and a smile that says please don't look at me. Malakai Vashko looks at me anyway. Six foot seven, Russian, with knuckles that never heal and eyes the colour of something cold and far away. He fights men twice his size for money and walks out of rooms without explaining himself to anyone, and his enemies have learned not to come for him. They come for the people standing next to him instead. He told me he didn't need a friend, and to stop looking at him like he might be one. I should have listened. But I'd already caught him trying to buy flowers for someone who couldn't receive them anymore, and something in me understood him before my brain caught up. He hides with silence and fists. I hide with silence and books. I didn't fix him and he didn't save me, but the night I grabbed an underground boxer by the hoodie outside a corner shop and told him to stop, something started that neither of us knew how to end. "I don't do this," he told me. "I don't let people in." He still doesn't smile. But he stayed. ------------------ ⚠️ Mature themes: violence, dark content. No explicit sexual content.

I cupped her face, planting a soft kiss on her beautiful lips. "Don't ever run from me, baby," I said softly, letting my thumb trace her jaw. "I love the chase." Her jaw tightened, her hands coming up to try and move mine. "Stop calling me baby, Ezra," she snapped, eyes flashing. I couldn't help but grin, dropping my voice to something low and dark. "Ohhh, now my baby has a problem with me calling her baby?" She shot me a glare, but I just tucked her hair behind her ear, pressing another kiss to her lips-gentler this time, lingering. "You don't get to tell me what to call you, baby." I leaned in closer, brushing my nose against hers. "You're whatever the fuck I call you."