Mag-log inA Note from Ivy Walters To everyone who picked up "All Shades of Passion" and stayed until the very last page of the last book — thank you 🙏💞😍. Thank you for trusting me with your time, your imagination, and your emotions. You followed Maya into danger and desire, walked with Monalisa through a world she never imagined, cheered for Steven as he finally chose himself, held your breath alongside Sheila as she wrestled with feelings she couldn't name, and rooted for Bailey and Mark even when the odds were stacked against them. Five stories. Five worlds. Five hearts laid bare. That was never just writing for me. That was me pouring something real onto the page and hoping it would find the right readers. And it did. It found you. This collection may have reached its final chapter, but the characters live on as long as you remember them. Share their stories. Recommend them to a friend who loves a little heat, a little heart, and a whole lot of complicated feelings. That is how storie
Bailey POVThree years later.The Olympic Stadium in Paris was nothing like anything I had ever seen.Eighty thousand seats rising into the sky like a cathedral built for speed. Flags from every nation hanging from the upper decks, snapping in the warm summer breeze. The track was blue, bright and clean, glowing under the afternoon sun like a stage waiting for its performers.And in lane four, my husband was stretching behind the blocks.Mark Kingsley. Twenty-two years old. College graduate. Professional athlete. Olympic finalist.My husband.The word still made my chest flutter, even after a whole year of marriage. The diamond on my finger caught the sunlight every time I moved my hand, throwing tiny rainbows across my skin. Big. Ridiculous. The kind of ring a man buys when he wants the whole world to know you're taken.That was Mark.Always making sure the whole world knew.I pressed my hand against my belly. Six months. The bump was round and firm under my sundress, and the baby
Bailey POV The Monday after the nationals, I walked into the USATF Academy like I owned the place. Not because I was fearless. My hands were shaking inside my jacket pockets and my stomach was doing flips with every step. But I was done letting fear choose my posture. Done walking in with my head down, eyes on the floor, hoping nobody would notice me. Those days were over. The hallway was busy. Morning rush. Athletes moving between changing rooms. Coaches gathered near the staff room with their coffees and their sideways glances. Every single one of them had seen the headlines. Every single one of them had watched the clip of Mark telling the world he loved me. I could feel it in the way the air shifted when I walked past. The way conversations paused for half a second before picking back up. Let them look. Let them whisper. I had somewhere to be. I dropped my bag in the staff room, grabbed my clipboard, and headed for the track. My group was already warming up. Mark was among
Bailey POV The flight back from Oregon was nothing like the flight in. On the way there, it was just us. Quiet. Focused. Two people with a race to prepare for and a secret to protect. On the way back, Mark Kingsley was a national champion. And his declaration of love for his coach was already trending online. My phone started buzzing before we even landed in Indianapolis. Notifications stacking on top of each other so fast the screen couldn't keep up. Social Media. News alerts. Messages from numbers I didn't recognize. I turned it off and shoved it into my bag. Mark reached over and squeezed my hand. "You okay?" he asked. "Ask me tomorrow." He smiled. But I wasn't smiling. Because I knew what was coming. By the time we landed and I turned my phone back on, the damage was already done. The clip of Mark's press conference had gone viral. Every sports outlet in the country had picked it up. His face. My face. The kiss at the finish line. The words "Bailey Adams i
Bailey POV First. He came first. I grabbed the railing to keep from falling, my stopwatch dangling from my wrist, tears pouring down my face faster than I could wipe them. Mark Kingsley. Nineteen years old. National champion. The crowd was on their feet. The noise was deafening. A wall of sound crashing from every direction, shaking the air, shaking the ground, shaking something deep inside my chest that I thought had gone quiet years ago. Mark stood past the finish line, chest heaving, hands on his knees. He stayed there for a moment, catching his breath, letting the moment settle over him. Then he straightened up. And looked for me. His eyes scanned the coaches' area. Moving fast. Searching. Until they found mine. And the grin that broke across his face was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. He didn't walk toward me. He ran. Jumped over the barrier separating the track from the coaches' section like it wasn't there and landed in front of me, sweaty, breathless, vi
Bailey POVThe morning of the USATF National Championships, I woke up at four.No alarms. No wrist watch timer. My eyes just flew open.Somehow, my body knew how important today was. The same way it always knew on a race day, even when the race wasn't mine anymore.We had flown into Eugene, Oregon two days earlier. The nationals were being held at Hayward Field, the most legendary track and field venue in America. Mark qualified through the regional results in Atlanta, and his 20.98 had placed him among the top eight sprinters in the country for the men's two hundred meter.Top eight.In the entire country.I sat on the edge of my hotel bed and let that sink in for a moment.The boy who had blackmailed me into coaching him was now lining up against the fastest men in America.And I helped put him there.I got dressed, tied my hair back, and headed to Mark's room. Knocked twice.He opened the door already dressed. Training shorts. Compression top. His spikes hanging from his bag by th
Sheila POV.I let the butterflies settle in my chest and tried to breathe around them."Try running it now," I said, voice coming out quieter than intended.He reached for the laptop without moving away, his arm brushing across my body. The code ran perfectly."You're a genius," he said, still clos
Zuki's POVI watched Sheila move with hooded eyes.The sight of her - my cousin - giving this stranger a lap dance should have been funny. Or awkward. Or repulsive.Instead, I was mesmerized.She moved hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence. The black dress hugged her curves as she rolle
Sheila's POVInside the club, everything was sensory overload. Laser lights cut through artificial fog, the bass made my ribs vibrate, and bodies were packed so tight on the dance floor it looked like one writhing mass. The air smelled like sweat, perfume, and something sweet I couldn't identify.
Sheila’s POVThat night, after our Vegas run, we sat on the living room floor with snacks spread between us. My feet were tired, my head full.I'd been driving around town till atleast 8pm. Before we came home.Zuki popped a chip into her mouth. “Okay,” she said. “Tomorrow we start on your phone.”







