Can Adults Enjoy Books Like Harry Potter But More Mature?

On New Year's Eve, I waited at home with a box of sparklers, hoping Jake Thompson would come. Instead, an earthquake struck. Trapped under fallen debris, I prayed for his safety. Little did I know, Jake was putting on a grand fireworks display across the city for his high school sweetheart who had just returned from abroad. The whole town buzzed with excitement, wishing them a lifetime of happiness together. Meanwhile, I had lost my hearing in the disaster, with no hope of recovery. When I tried to break off our engagement and leave town, Jake stood before me, his eyes red-rimmed and pleading. I couldn't understand a word he said. I simply wished him, “May you always have a day like today, year after year.”

I die on my wedding night. When Zachary Gordon receives a call from the police asking him to identify my body, he snorts disdainfully. "Who cares whether she's dead? I'll be there for the funeral." "We're not joking, Mr. Gordon. You should come down here." He glances at the woman in his arms as a hint of impatience flickers in his eyes. "Fine."

Avla, a shy 17-year-old girl, is trapped in a life of torment and abuse. Her days are filled with fear and longing, overshadowed by her tyrannical father, Yorgan. But her world begins to crack open when she catches the attention of the mysterious Alpha Gideon, a mature and enigmatic leader who seems to watch her every move. Why does he linger around her school? Why are his eyes always on her?

I was always sick as a kid. My parents were desperate. They’d try anything. So they got me a bunch of "guardian angels." Next thing I know, I'm set up and tossed into a horror game. Turns out, Medusa is my godmother. The ghost girl? My childhood playmate. And the final boss, a vampire? He's my fiancé. The first time we met, I was in a blind panic. I tripped and fell right onto his chiseled chest. "Oh—I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking—" I gasped, looking up at him. The words tumbled out in a rush. "And you're really handsome—but I didn't mean to fall on you! I have a heart condition!" The boss let out a laugh. He wiped the blood from his hands and swept me up into his arms. "Don't you worry," he purred, his voice dangerously smooth. "As your fiancé, I promise... I'll fix you right up."

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.

The appointment of Susan Moore as the Broadcasting Channel's executive director has forced out the station's more valued news anchor, sparking heated discussions throughout Hayworth. Susan herself is standing before me right now. She wants to sell her jewelry. As the manager of a luxury boutique store, I'm here to inspect the goods. "These are pieces my partner commissioned for me. I have so many that I'm tired of them." One of them is a diamond-encrusted necklace, featuring a pigeon-blood ruby in the center, worth a few million. There are also several similar gifts on the table, with the crocodile skin bag the least eye-catching one. I smiled. "Your husband must really love you." I set about verifying the purchaser's ID and signature as part of a routine procedure. However, I freeze in place at the sight of the name. "I'm not his wife," she replied, bringing the coffee cup to her lips. "We're just each other's first loves. He said he missed out on 15 years of my life, so he gave me 15 gifts. Isn't that romantic?" It is romantic, indeed. However, it's my father's signature. For 30-plus years, I assumed that my father was a dull man who had never once surprised my mother.