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What happens after a young prominent business tycoon Mr. John Emerald was forced to bring down his ego after signing an unaware contract. This novel contains highly sexual content.

Her dad's business needed saving and Gabriella had to do everything to save her family from bankruptcy. Being sent to Seth's company to negotiate with him not knowing that it was a blind date for her and their family's business saviour. Gabriella has to accept going out with Seth Williams. But he gives her an option, he will only help them if she goes out with him but after the date if she doesn't like it, they would end it there but he would still help their company. Will Gabriella not like her date with Seth or Will Seth let her go even if she doesn't like it? Let's find out together as they embark on this journey.

"Hi, I’m Ethan Moore. You're mine from this moment onward," he declares, holding the car door open for her. “What?—” Elizabeth exclaims. “Get in the car,” Ethan commands, unfazed by her protest. “What—I don’t even know who you are—you think having a baritone voice can make you stand in front of me and spout rubbish from that godforsaken thing you call a mouth?!” Elizabeth's irritation is palpable. Ethan smirks. Nice, she’s got a sharp tongue—he likes sharp tongue. Turning to the nearest bodyguard, he orders, “get her in the car.” Meeting Elizabeth's gaze, he adds, “if she resists, throw her in the trunk.” .............................................. Pressured by his parents to marry, Ethan Moore is forced to kidnap a stranger. He offers her a deal to pose as his wife whenever necessary. *** All Elizabeth Claire wants is to escape the clutches of the crazed billionaire who kidnapped her. She tries various tricks to break free, but her attempts are thwarted when…

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?