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18+ ONLY | EXTREMELY EXPLICIT | ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK Lust doesn’t care who’s watching—or what form it takes. From growling beasts in the woods to possessive men in penthouses, from scandalous threesomes under silk sheets to Santa’s very naughty lap—Crave is a shameless collection of er*tic shorts where anything goes and no fantasy is too filthy. Whether it’s a witch getting wrecked by her summoned demon, a sweet librarian bent over by her best friend’s dad, or two enemies going down instead of throwing punches—this book doesn’t slow down for breath. Straight. Gay. Monsters. Mortals. Magic. Each story is short, dirty, and unapologetically hot. You’re not here for love. You’re here to get off. So get in, stay wet, and Crave harder.

What happens when innocence is completely, deliciously ruined? Dive into Ravished: A Collection of Sin, with a scorching lineup of forbidden short stories that shatter every boundary: Eager students seducing their stern professors… Innocent maids bent over by their ruthless billionaire bosses… fierce mafia bosses claiming what's theirs in blood-soaked deals and hidden rooms… ambitious interns flipping the power on ruthless CEOs… massive age-gaps that cross unforgivable lines… stepdads claiming teasing stepdaughters… good girls surrendering to strangers in dark clubs… blistering MxM, dripping F/F, wild group scenes, and every twisted shade of taboo that leaves you breathless and aching. These aren't gentle teases. They drench you in sin, wreck your composure, leave you burning with shame, and craving more. One click is all it takes. One forbidden read that will leave you absolutely consumed by desire.

In a world where the moon shattered and the strong devoured the weak, Neoma Solstice is nothing. A scentless Null. A ghost. A mistake. Until the day she saves a dying Lycan warrior with a touch, and her secret is revealed: she's Void-Born, the rarest mutation in existence. The same power that makes her invisible makes her invaluable—a living weapon that can cure the incurable Feral Rot plaguing the Lycan Ascendancy. Captured and collared, Neoma is forced to serve as "Tether" to Unit Vanguard: four elite soldiers on the brink of madness. Barzil, the ruthless Commander who sees her as a mission. Wolfy, the cold Tactician who sees her as a puzzle. Viggo, the feral Berserker who sees her as salvation. Guller, the fallen Priest who sees her as redemption. They own her contract. They control her life. They swear she's just a tool. But tools don't make their masters kneel. As Neoma's power grows, so does the threat she poses to the regime that enslaved her. When the prophesied Blood Moon rises, she'll have to choose: remain the Ascendancy's battery, or become the Void that devours them whole. Some bonds are forged in blood. Some in magic. Theirs was forged in desperation—and it might be the only thing strong enough to save a dying world. The Obsidian Covenant is a dark dystopian reverse harem romance featuring a morally gray FMC, four obsessive MLs, found family dynamics, enemies-to-lovers, rejected mate redemption, and a slow-burn that explodes into high heat. Perfect for fans of The Cruel Prince meets Den of Vipers in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. No choosing. No apologies. No mercy.

Amara Voss doesn’t just kill, she survives. Viktor Dragovic doesn’t just rule, he dominates. Neither of them gives a damn about love, but when their worlds collide, sparks fly, and the chaos gets personal. Her blade is sharp, his heart is ice, and together they’re a ticking time bomb.   But the past has a way of screwing things up. Blood-soaked secrets and betrayals refuse to stay buried, dragging them into a mess that could tear them apart. Yet every crimson kiss pulls them deeper into a passion they can’t escape, no matter how dangerous it gets.  

⚠️ Mature Content Warning: This novel contains adult themes, explicit romance, violence, and emotionally intense situations. Reader discretion is advised. ————————————————————— “I expect loyalty, Margot. We marry in four days and you’re getting calls like that? What the fuck have you been doing?” My voice isn’t calmed down enough but I restrain myself from punching a wall. I wasn’t young and stupid but these rash reactions were making it seem as though I was. Tears welled in her eyes and I silently cursed myself. My bride. Just days before our wedding, I am screaming at her. Is this a product of the Binding? Making me a control freak? I came to her room for alone time with her, not to fight with her. I think she is going to give a meek answer to my question but instead she wipes her tears with the back of her hand and glares at me. “So you can fuck and feed from a Registry whore an hour before we go to the Binding ceremony, but I am expected to be loyal to you? You saw me watch that night. Did I yell at you?” —————————————————————— Every 25 years, a human from one of the five elite dynasties must marry into one of the five vampire houses to keep the peace of the Accord, a treaty between the ten families. Now it’s Margot’s turn to marry except she’s taking her dead sister’s place to marry the King of all vampires. Preserving the peace and producing a Crimsonborn is her duty, but she was groomed for society, not submission. Her immortal husband to be is not only the vampire king, Nathaniel Blackwell, but a calculating man who doesn’t want or need a wife. Or so he claims.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.