Where Can I Read The Sour Grape Online For Free?

I was only eleven when my life changed. My parents were gone, and my innocence was taken away. I grew up in a world where danger wore a suit and love felt like power. I learned to guard myself. But nothing prepared me for him, Lorenzo Vitalio. He is my guardian’s stepbrother. He watched me grow up. He is the man I shouldn’t want. Yet he is the only one I do. He’s 32, and I’m 20. The age difference is wrong. The feelings? Right—so painfully right that it hurts. I’ve loved him for as long as I’ve known what love is. But to him, I was just the girl he had to protect, not the woman he could claim. So I did what any heartbroken girl would do—I pushed him away. I made him notice me. I broke rules, crossed boundaries, and opened up the cracks in both of us. Just when I thought I’d finally lost him, he came back. Now the question is, can love survive the burden of secrets, danger, and years of denial? Or am I doomed to suffer for a man who knows how to protect but not how to love? This is the story of Evelyn Rose and Lorenzo Vitalio. A love too forbidden to begin. Too deep to end. And far too reckless to ignore.

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

This author once failed as a heroine… and returned as something entirely different. Not as a savior. But as the villain. And she didn’t come back empty-handed. She brought secrets. She brought sins. She brought a story that was never meant to be read. Sinners & Saints is not just a collection of dark romance stories— It is a confession. A warning. And a door best left unopened. Within these pages lie twisted love stories where desire and destruction walk hand in hand, and every choice comes with a cost. So the question is simple: Will you turn away… or step inside anyway?

Not all cravings are gentle. This erotica short story collection dives into untamed, forbidden, and dangerously magnetic pull between people, peeling back the polished mask of control to reveal something raw, reckless, and impossibly intoxicating. In these pages, desire doesn’t whisper; it claims. Indulge in a world where passion is the plot, temptation is the language, and satisfaction is only ever a page away. (The stories can be read in any order as long as they have the same title)

THE TASTE OF SIN is a collection of erotic short stories. Inside, you’ll find possessive billionaires, enemies turned lovers for a night, and cravings that defy morality. These are quick, dirty, and delicious stories, perfect for a bedtime read... if you can manage to fall asleep afterwards. Warning: Explicit and highly addictive content. (+18)

When I was seven years old, my younger brother went into anaphylactic shock after sneaking a handful of peanuts. Outside the emergency room, my mother slammed my head against the wall over and over, her face twisted with rage. "If you had been watching him like you were supposed to be, this never would have happened! You should be the one with a ruptured stomach, not him!" After that, whenever my brother so much as caught a cold, my mother forced me to eat spoiled leftovers as punishment. I once prepared an elaborate feast. She flipped the entire table and made me crawl on the floor to lick it clean. When I said I wanted to study culinary arts, she poured hot oil over my hands. My father wanted to send me to vocational school to learn a trade, but my mother clutched my brother to her chest and wailed. "She destroyed her brother's health! She owes him a lifetime of service!" When I was fifteen, my brother's gluttony cost my father an important business deal. I took the blame without even being asked, and the furious client forced me to drink more than half a gallon of hard liquor. By the time I was sent home with a bleeding stomach, my father had already scolded my brother. My mother took out her anger on me instead, slapping me so hard my ears rang and my vision went dark at the edges. "You useless thing! You should’ve choked to death at that table! I get sick just looking at you!" I coughed up black blood. From my pocket, I pulled out a piece of sour candy that had gone soft and sticky. It was the only treat my mother had ever given me with a smile, back before my brother's allergic reaction. I put the candy in my mouth and swallowed it down with the taste of stomach acid. The candy was so sour it made my throat burn. Whatever came next, I just hoped I would not have to be my family’s garbage disposal again.