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The things we want are so very rarely the things we need. Clifton Heights, a modest Adirondack town, offers many unique attractions. Arcane Delights sells both paperbacks and hard-to-find limited editions. The Skylark Diner serves the best home-cooked meals around, with friendly service and a smile. Every August, Mr. Jingo’s County Fair visits, to the delight of children and adults. In essence, Clifton Heights is the quintessential small American town. Everyone knows everyone else, and everyone is treated like family. It is quiet, simple, and peaceful. But shadows linger here. Flitting in dark corners, from the corner of the eye. If you walk down Main Street after dark, the slight scrape of shoes on asphalt whispers you're not alone, but when you look over your shoulder, no one is there. The moon shines high and bright in the night sky, but instead of throwing light, it only seems to make the shadows lengthen. Children disappear. Teens run away. Hunters get lost in the woods with frightening regularity. Husbands go mad, and wives vanish in the dead of night. And still, when the sun rises in the morning, you are greeted by townspeople with warm waves and friendly smiles, and the shivers pass as everything seems fresh and new... Until night falls once more. Handy's Pawn and Thrift sits several blocks down from Arcane Delights. Like any thrift store, its wares range from the mundane to the bizarre. By daylight, it seems just another slice of small town Americana. But in its window hangs a sign which reads: We Have Things You Need. And when a lonely traveling salesman comes looking for something he desperately wants, after normal visiting hours, after night has fallen, he will face a harsh truth among the shelves of Handy’s Pawn and Thrift: the things we want are rarely the things we need. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

.. his fingers were assaulting my hole while I stood there, side of my face pinned to the locker, ass in the air taking it like slut, howling deep in my throat. “You like it huh?” His voice was deep, raw, no warmth, a near growl, movements quickening. “You like offering me your whole to do as I please” he whimpered and I felt three fingers slip in. My back arched so hard, tensing in place, my eyes rolled to the back of my head, saliva drooling from my mouth, guttural moan echoing in my throat. “Now I just have to wreck you” he murmured through gritted teeth and with that, he roughly nudged my stance wider. My cock dangled, precum leaking from my tip... This collection is not about love. There are no soft confessions, no forever promises, no gentle hands reaching for something pure. These stories are built on raw hunger...men consumed by obsession, dominance, and the need to take what they crave without apology. Inside these pages are ruthless encounters between men who don’t believe in romance. Men who use bodies like addictions. Men who pin, command, consume, and leave bruises where tenderness should have been. Desire here is violent, intoxicating, and shameless. Every touch burns with greed. These are not stories about soulmates. They are stories about dark locker rooms, sweaty midnight encounters, rough mouths, possessive grips, filthy whispers, and desperate cravings that refuse to stay hidden. Men giving in to temptation with no guilt and no restraint. Men chasing release like starving animals, devouring each other simply because they can. No hearts. No healing. No salvation. Just sweat, tension, sin, and the dangerous thrill of men who know exactly what they want from other men and take it hard, fast, and without mercy.

The life trial system "If You Think You Can Do Better, Prove It" burst onto the scene like a traveling circus promising wonders. The idea was plain enough: "If you reckon someone's life is a mess, and you think you can do better, go ahead and prove it. There's a reward waiting if you do." Before I knew it, my whole family had me pegged for the fool in the middle of the show. There was my mother, dreaming of turning me into some grand goose; my husband, who'd spent years dodging his rightful share of the family load; and my son, mortified by the very sight of me. They shoved me onto the "judgment seat" like I was the villain of the tale. Every last one of them swore up and down that, given my place, they'd manage my life better than I ever could. The stakes? Well, if they pulled it off, my consciousness would be erased—gone, wiped out like a mistake on a chalkboard—and turned into their personal servant. On top of that, they'd waltz off with a cool million dollars. But if they couldn't? Then I'd be the one raking in three million dollars. Now that's a gamble for the ages, isn't it?

Sam, a guy who doesn't have one bit of luck when it comes to romance, meets Dean, a free-spirited person, in a series of fortunate events. Is Sam truly a misfit when it comes to romance or is he just looking the wrong way?

UNDER HEAVY EDITING. ***** He chuckled at her desperate attempt to make the lie believable. "Pretty little liar, your face betrays a lot, sadly" he placed his hand on her cheeks, his face dark "you can't run from me, Maya; no matter how hard you try to, I'll always find you. Even in the deepest part of hell, And when I find you, you get punished according to how long you were away from me, understand?" His tone was so soft and gentle it could have fooled anybody but not her. She could see through him, and She trembled under his touch. "Y-yes, maestro" **** Though her sister commits the crime, Maya Alfredo is turned in by her parents to be punished by the Ruthless Don Damon Xavier for selling information about the Costa Nostra to the police. Her world is overturned and shattered; she is taken to the Don's Manor, where she is owned by him and treated like his plaything, meanwhile knowing his intentions to destroy her. But then things get dark in the Don's Manor, with the presence of Derinem Xavier. Maya doesn't stand a chance in Damon's furnace. Will he destroy her and everything she loves for the sins he thinks she committed? Or does luck have other plans for her? Note— This is a dark romance. Not all lovey-dovey. ML is a psychopath. Trigger warnings!!! **** TO READ THE EDITED VERSION, PLEASE LOG OUT AND LOG IN AGAIN.

“You can call me when you’re lonely. I’ll be your temporary fix.” Those were the words that he said to me and it was plain simple, he wanted nothing but sex and I wanted nothing more than too. I was the kind of girl who was too scared of falling in love again because I feel like there is something more in life than being mournful over a guy who never actually gave a hell. I deserve something more than pain and misery over a stupid heartbreak. Since then, I got too scared of commitment that I no longer wanted to be in one. I wanted fun and I wanted to feel like I am alive again. He was the kind of guy who was too busy for permanent relationships. The superstar that all women wanted to bang with. The kind of guy who would have any girls kneel down in front of him because well, he is that kind of guy. He was a guy with a hectic schedule, sold out world tours, drinking champagne in private jets, holding a mic in one hand and conquering all over the world on the other. Maybe I needed someone to show me how to live again and he needed someone to show him how to love.