How Does Dirty Hands End?

I spent a year starving for a man who wouldn't touch me. Then his father and brother decided to feast. Rob called me a slut when I begged him to fuck me. Made me feel worthless for craving his hands on my body. Then he let another woman suck his cock right in front of me—and told me she did it better. I should have left. But I followed him to his family's private island in Italy instead. That's where I met them. Victor Marchetti. Rob's father. Silver hair, ice-blue eyes, and a body built for sin. He looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole. When his hand touched the small of my back, I felt it between my thighs. Dante. The older brother. Dark, dangerous, and built like he could break me apart with his bare hands. One look from those black eyes and I was wet. One word from that deep voice and I was ready to drop to my knees. I tried to resist. Tried to remember I had a boyfriend sleeping down the hall. But they hunted me. Cornered me. Made me admit what my body had been screaming for. When they finally took me—both of them, at the same time, claiming every hole, every sound, every desperate whimper—I understood what I'd been missing. Victor's hand around my throat while Dante buried himself so deep I couldn't breathe. Two men who didn't just want me. They needed me. Owned me. Ruined me for anyone else. Rob made me beg for scraps. His father and brother made me scream their names.

A collection of passionate encounters, forbidden attractions, and complicated relationships. From former lovers reunited by fate to rivals caught in unexpected temptation, each story explores desire, emotion, and the choices that change lives forever.

Content Note: This dark romance contains 80% explicit sex scenes, intense power dynamics, trauma, revenge themes, and heavy triggers (attempted assault, wrongful imprisonment, suicide, family betrayal, graphic violence). Reader discretion advised. Emily Jayden was only nineteen when her life was shattered by a lie she couldn’t escape. After a violent incident with her stepfather, Evan John, she was accused and convicted of attempted murder, despite insisting she never intended to hurt him, but with his influence and reputation shielding the truth, Emily spent ten years in prison for a crime she didn’t commit. At twenty-nine, she walks into freedom hoping for a fresh start but the world hasn’t forgotten, her name is stained and no company will hire someone with her past. Survival and revenge leaves her with few options. By day, she carefully builds a plan to expose the man who destroyed her life. By night, she works at R.M Club, one of the city’s most exclusive strip clubs, where powerful men hide behind money and closed doors. The job is humiliating but it gives her something she needed. Money. Then she meets Ryan Mason on her first night, and sparks fly. For the first time in years, Emily allows herself to feel alive and to fall in love. Until she learns the truth. Ryan isn’t just a client.

Hi lovely Readers, here's the author. Thank you for reading to the end of this book, and a new book is about to start. Enough spoilers, read on to know what happens. Don't forget to leave your comments. XoXo. "I need to come," I tell her. "Please... yes..." "Come with me..." I drop her to her back and lower myself back in position. My belly presses to hers, and her pretty little nipples feel so sweet against my chest. "I can't..." she whispers. "I'm so... fluttery..." "You can," I tell her. "I promise you, you can." I pause. "And you will. Again, Ashley. Come for me again." I rub, back and forth, my dick pinned between my stomach and her pussy, grinding hard, taking so much fucking care not to spear that tight little cunt and fill her up with my cum. "I'm gonna come all over your sweet little pussy, Ashley." "Yes..." she whispers. "Oh God, please... please, Mr. Mancini..." "Don't call me that," I growl, and I'm on the edge, right on the fucking edge. "What shall I call you?" she asks, and I hear it in her voice, I hear she's thinking it, too. It's in the little tremor, the sweet little hint of lust. My breath is erratic, my cock pulsing as my balls tighten, ready to fucking blow. And I say it. I just fucking say it. "Call me Daddy," I growl. "You can call me Daddy."

If you’re filthy minded, step inside the doors of Dirty Angels and order a drink. Dirty Angels is a cocktail bar where desire, power, and bad decisions collide. Everyone who walks through its doors is hiding something, and everyone wants something they shouldn’t. The story unfolds through rotating points of view, each character given five chapters at a time to reveal the dirty business they’re involved in. Mafia deals. Billionaire secrets. Bad boys with dangerous appetites. Obsessions that refuse to stay buried. Each arc can be read on its own, but together they weave into a larger, darker story as the full truth behind Dirty Angels slowly comes into focus. At the centre are Marisol and Ethan, locked in a volatile enemies-to-lovers dynamic neither of them is willing to name. Around them orbit lovers, rivals, and predators: a mafia ex who won’t let go, a billionaire with too much power, a shark lawyer who knows exactly where the bodies are buried, and a found family bound together by loyalty, desire, and shared secrets. Dirty Angels attracts those who crave the forbidden. Boundaries blur. Power shifts hands. Desire takes many forms, and not everyone is looking for love. Some will find it anyway. Others will burn everything down on the way. Tropes & Themes: Enemies to lovers • MM • MMF • FF • Power dynamics • Daddy energy • Age gap (all adults) • Step-relations (adults) • BDSM themes • Obsession • Found family • Dark desire

I was a brilliant artist. But I crushed my right hand saving my mafia husband, Vincent, and my ability to create died with it for three years. Vincent promised he'd make me whole again. Our private doctor swore he was doing everything he could. But my hand remained numb, useless. Then, one day, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world. "Make sure she can never create again," Vincent told the doctor. "I can't have Isabella threatening Sophia's place in the art world!" "But, Mr. Torrino, another procedure might... she could lose the hand for good." "I don't care what happens to her! Sophia saved my life. I will not let her down!" It turned out my husband was the one who had destroyed me. And the assassin, Sophia, was the woman he truly loved. He let her claim my designs, turning her into the art world’s new darling while I was trapped in a broken body. When I confronted him, pregnant with our child, he slapped me in public and told the world I was losing my mind. That night, I burned everything that bound me to him. Then I dialed an encrypted number I hadn't used in what felt like a lifetime. "Grandpa. In three days, I need to disappear."