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“True pain doesn’t come from enemies, but from those we hold dear.” Twenty-one-year-old Charlie Rae learned this firsthand when the people she loved betrayed her. She vowed to cut them out of her life forever. But dropping out of the university wasn’t an option, and avoiding them on campus felt impossible. Her only escape? Moving in with Taylor West—her ex-boyfriend’s biggest rival and the school’s notorious bad boy. It was supposed to be a temporary fix, but as tensions rose and sparks flew, Charlie wondered: Did she truly escape her troubles, or was she about to make another mistake? *** “Let’s get this straight right now—we’re just housemates. You’re not my type, so don’t even think about taking advantage of me!” Charlie laid down the rules. However, one morning, Charlie woke up in Taylor’s room. His gray eyes locked onto hers as he smirked, his voice playful as he asked, “I thought I wasn’t your type. So, who’s really taking advantage of who?” *** This is Book 2 and Book 3 of the series, "Love and Legacy in the House of Kings." Book 1: Divorced My Cheating Husband, Married A Billionaire (Riley & Adrian King) Book 2: "The Bad Boy Next Room" (Charlie King & Taylor West) Book 3: "Finding Mr. Perfect" (Freya King & Kenneth Wright)

WARNING: This book contains intense bullying, explicit scenes, triggering language, violence, and psychological content. I told Caden to cancel his stupid party. He told me, with that infuriating smirk, "Why? Planning to be my snack tonight?" Caden has made my life hell for four years, ever since our parents got married. He's gorgeous, arrogant, and the kind of boy Stanford girls trip over themselves for. Me? I'm the only one who sees right through him. He's a blatant bully, the devil who turned me into a surreptitious one. And now we're stuck sharing the same off-campus apartment for our entire freshman year. Living together means new rules, no boundaries... and a tension I never expected. The closer we get, the harder it becomes to remember why we ever hated each other in the first place - and nothing threatens our pride more than that.

River Wilson has her entire life planned: earn top grades, avoid distractions, and graduate as valedictorian. Love? Boys? Drama? Not on the schedule. But her perfect plan unravels the moment she steps into her new university apartment… and finds Taylor DeLuca shirtless, tattooed, and infuriatingly smug, standing in her kitchen. Thanks to a university housing glitch and a name too ambiguous to question, River ends up living with the one thing she promised to avoid: a boy who looks like trouble and acts like he invented it. Now she’s armed with a list of house rules, a schedule tighter than her ponytail, and one unbreakable boundary: no flirting. But Taylor has a smirk that makes her forget her rules… and a past that’s more complicated than his cocky charm lets on. What happens when the girl who has everything under control is forced to live with the boy who thrives on chaos? Let’s just say... Rule Number Eight is about to get broken.

The boy who made my life hell just became my stepbrother, and now we’re sharing a mansion, a last name, and a hatred so intense it might just burn us both alive. I’m Summer Winters, the scholarship girl who never wanted Crew Ashford’s attention. But after I publicly humiliated Blackwood Prep’s golden hockey captain, he’s made destroying me his personal mission. With the months of psychological warfare, I've learned to survive his cruelty. Then my mother marries his father. Now I’m living under his roof, and Crew’s rage at my presence is suffocating. Behind closed doors, his bullying intensifies, but so does something darker. Something that looks dangerously like obsession. Just when I think it can’t get worse, I meet Gray, Crew’s quiet, artistic brother who sees me in ways that terrify and comfort me in equal measure. And my childhood best friend Tyler? He’s caught between loyalty to me and forces I don’t understand yet. Three boys. Three types of devastation. And secrets buried so deep they’ll destroy us all when they surface. When everything explodes at the championship game, I’ll have to decide: which kind of destruction am I willing to survive? This is a dark reverse harem hockey romance where the line between hate and want is razor-thin, and choosing yourself might be the most dangerous choice of all.

Can fantasies come true? Evan Stewart. The quarterback love magnet, that was his nickname in high school. He just snapped his fingers, and all the girls came running. He didn't know that I existed, until that night. Well, not exactly that night. I got rid of my glasses, changed my hair, and crashed a party, to get close to him. He was my secret fantasy and as we played spin the bottle and I ended up alone with him, I was glad that I took the risk. Until the cops showed up and everyone had to leave the party. Later, opportunity knocked again, and I wasn't going to let it pass. We sat in the principal's office, and he soon found out who I was. This time, I wasn't about to let anything stand in my way, but I was scared that he'd find out my secret. I didn't know that he had secrets of his own. They were so deep that they just made me want him even more. My Stepbrother's Baby is created by Ted Evans, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

I never should have let my mother hold my future hostage. She paid my tuition with his father’s money. Locked my birth certificate, my transcripts, every scrap of paper I need to survive in a safe I’ll never open. And the one thing I had left of my dad, his old watch, she dangled like a noose. Run, and I lose my education. Fight, and I lose the last piece of the man who actually loved me. So I moved into the Hunters’ mansion. Into the lair of the boy who spent years making my life hell. Chase Hunter. Six-foot-five of pure venom wrapped in muscle and money. The senior who cornered me in empty hallways, who whispered filth in my ear just to watch me flinch, who smiled that sharp, cruel smile every time I broke a little more. I thought graduation meant freedom from him. I was wrong. Now he’s my stepbrother. He hates that I’m here. Hates my mother for sinking her claws into his father. Hates me most of all, for breathing his air, for walking his halls, for daring to exist where he can reach me. But hate isn’t clean anymore. It’s tangled up in heat. In the way his grey eyes strip me bare every time they land on me, the way his hand closes around my throat, not to hurt, but to own. In the way he punishes me over his lap, in his car, against walls, until I’m shaking and soaked and furious at myself for wanting more. He calls me Little Lamb, I call him every name I can think of under my breath. How long until we stop fighting the deadly inferno raging between us and finally let it consume us both?