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What's worse than war? High school. At least for super-soldier Nyla Braun it is. Taken off the battlefield against her will, this Menhit must figure out life and love - and how to survive with kids her own age.

Kaida thought forever was the deal with her boyfriend, Liam, the captain of the Runners Hockey Team, until he broke up with her and reunited with his childhood lover, who had returned after several years of being away. Heartbroken and angry, Kaida decided to make her ex-boyfriend jealous by kissing her best friend's older brother, Maverick. Unfortunately, she reignited the flame he'd been trying to quench for years. Now, there was no turning back and no quenching the obsessive flame burning inside Maverick for her. After some time, Liam realized he truly loved Kaida and wanted her back, but Maverick wasn't letting her go. Kaida was his now, and he would go to the end of the earth for her sake. What began as revenge against her ex turned into something twisted and dark: something beyond words and certainly beyond obsession.

Have you ever dreaded living a lifeless life? If not, you probably don't know how excruciating such an existence is. That is what Rue Mallory's life. A life without a meaning. Imagine not wanting to wake up every morning but also not wanting to go to sleep at night. No will to work, excitement to spend, no friends' company to enjoy, and no reason to continue living. How would an eighteen-year old girl live that kind of life? Yes, her life is clearly depressing. That's exactly what you end up feeling without a phone purpose in life. She's alive but not living. There's a huge and deep difference between living, surviving, and being alive. She's not dead, but a ghost with a beating heart. But she wanted to feel alive, to feel what living is. She hoped, wished, prayed but it didn't work. She still remained lifeless. Not until, he came and introduce her what really living is.

“Kiss me.” The words tumbled out and Lex stepped back instantly. He turned away from her and Isis felt her pride being butchered. “Isis, I-” His voice travelled through the room. It was laced with uncertainty. His back was still to her. "I am sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I-uh. Good bye, Mr. Greyson.” Isis replied as she slid off the desk. She needed to leave, before her embarrassment killed her. Isis grabbed her bag and stalked off towards the door. A grip like iron encased her shoulder and she was spun around to face Mr. Greyson, he pushed her against the door and dropped her bag onto the floor. He pinned her body with his, a hand around her waist bringing her body against his and his other hand cupping her face. He ran his thumb along her lower lips and took satisfaction in her shuddering. He drew her hands up and anchored them above her head, pinning them to the door. His mouth slowly covered hers and moved teasingly. Isis gasped at the skillful movement of his lips against hers. He possessed her fully, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He tasted her, devoured her and nothing was sweeter for Lex. He fought to control his natural instincts firing to life and focused on giving her this but he was certain he would gain the most pain from it. He knew he would never forget this kiss, never meet its equal. He pulled away from her, their breath labored. He rested his forehead against hers and committed the moment to memory. He leaned off her, let her hands drop to her sides, he handed Isis her bag. "Good bye, Ms. Davenport.” He replied with some pain as he turned the door knob and allowed her to leave.

On Christmas Eve, my father got the man I had secretly loved for ten years drunk and sent him to my bed. When I woke up the next morning, Roy pulled away from my attempt at a good-morning kiss. His voice was cold and distant as he agreed to marry me. After the wedding, Roy wasted no time submitting a transfer request. He took an overseas post and left. He did not return for five years. I gave birth to our daughter, Eve, alone and waited for him to come back home. When I heard that Roy had finally applied to return to a domestic position, I was overjoyed. I spent days preparing, imagining our first reunion as husband and wife. But even when the clock struck midnight, he still hadn't come home. Our daughter, ever so thoughtful, placed her most treasured possession—a photograph of Roy—into my hands. "Don't cry, Mommy," she said softly. "Look, Daddy's right here." I tried to convince myself that his absence was due to a delayed flight. But later that night, while watching the news, I saw him. He was on a crowded city street, holding a young girl in his arms. Beside him stood a woman, her smile soft and warm. Facing the camera, Roy said, "Being with them is my greatest wish." At that moment, something inside me broke. I wrote up the divorce papers, packed our things, and planned to take Eve to change her identity. I didn't want him anymore. The day before we left, a man I had never met came to see me. He was Roy's father. "You could call me Dad," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I'd rather you call me Ryan." I told him everything about the past five years—how I had waited, how I had hoped. When I finished, he laughed softly, an unusual warmth in his voice. "If it was just business," he said, "perhaps your father should have tied a bow around me and sent me to your bed instead. But I hold my liquor well—if I ever end up wrapped in a bow, you can be sure it's by choice."