Camelia Bloom

Like a petal thats fallen from a dying flower, I fell for you knowing it wouldn't work out anyways. - Jasmine somehow gets stuck having to become Zac Miller, the school bad-boy/golden-boy's Chemistry tutor. It didn't take long for things to get messy when Jasmine's boyfriend needs to send Zac a message to stay away from his girlfriend. A blooming attraction between bad guy Zac and the innocently sweet Jasmine, secrets from the past and a very jealous boyfriend - nothing about being Zac Miller's tutor was going to be easy for Jasmine.

NOTE: THE BOOK IS A SERIES OF SHORT WEREWOLF STORIES FOR PEOPLE WHO LOVE IT BRIEF…and smutty. Vanessa is the assassin trained in seduction and the perfect kill. Her target is the King himself and the plan is simple: infiltrate his bedchamber, ensnare him with her body, and slip the dagger between his ribs before dawn. No attachments. No mercy. But the moment their eyes meet for the first time, everything shatters. Standalone short werewolf romance stories. One world. Different dangerous loves

Aria was born under the moon’s blessing gentle, intuitive, carrying a power she never asked for. Clara was forged in lightning fierce, rebellious, and determined to tear down every wall fate built around her. Two girls from opposite worlds. Two powers that should never coexist. Two destinies written by a goddess who broke herself long before they were born. But when an ancient prophecy stirs and the sea begins whispering the goddess’s name, Aria’s quiet strength and Clara’s storming rage collide in ways no one predicted. Their bond becomes something deeper, older something the world isn’t prepared to face. And standing between them is Ares, Alpha of the Lunar Pack, bound by duty, torn by fate, and caught in a connection that defies every rule of the wolf world. He was never meant to choose between them… yet destiny demands a choice no heart should have to make. As the goddess rises to reclaim the pieces of herself she once shattered, Aria and Clara must uncover the truth behind their origins, their bond, and the power that ties them together. Will they rewrite a fate written long before their births or become the final sacrifice in a prophecy designed to consume them?

After waking up one day to discover I was coughing up flowers, everyone started giving me strange looks. It continued until my sworn enemy cornered me against a wall. His expression darkened as he chuckled softly and asked, "Oh, baby, have you been going out like this every day? Why don't you try mine instead?"

I stood on the pavement outside the townhouse that had been my sanctuary for ten years, watching the removal men haul out my life. Beside me, Lyle didn't even have the decency to look guilty. "It’s just business, Lolly," he’d said an hour ago, dropping the divorce papers onto the marble kitchen island. "You were a beautiful asset. But assets fucking depreciate." Now, I was a 'no one'. No money, no keys, and my reputation dragged through the mud. I stared up at the window of my bedroom. Krista – my ex best friend – was up there right now.. I turned. A man leaned against the frame of a waiting black saloon car. He didn't look like a bloody saviour. He looked like the devil, and right now, the devil was exactly what I needed. "I'm Franco," he murmured. "And I think Lyle just made the biggest mistake of his pathetic life. He thinks he broke you. I think he just let you off the leash." The heat radiating off his body was a phenomenal. I had just lost my husband, but standing this close to Franco, the only thing I felt was a sudden, violent ache. He held out an invitation. The Apex Bloom. A survival game for the elite. The prize is a billion pounds. But it doesn't reward beauty. It rewards the hunger of a woman who has nothing left to lose." A sharp shock shot through me, and I let out a soft gasp. He stepped half an inch closer, his thigh brushing against mine. He knew what that touch did to me. He wanted it just as much as I did. "Rule one," Franco whispered. "In my arena, the only way to bloom is to bleed. Are you ready?"

The last thing Valentina Serra sees before she dies is the crack in the ceiling above her bed. She is 45 years old. She is not unhappy. That, she realizes in the last seconds of her first life, is the most devastating thing she could say about it. She opens her eyes in a university lecture hall in Barcelona. She is 20 years old. Her notebook is open, her pen is in her hand, and she can feel — with the precision of someone who has lived an entire life — exactly how much she is about to waste if she does nothing. She does something. Armed with 25 years of memory, Valentina sets out to close every loop she left open: the military commission she dismissed, the marketing career she let others architect for her, the relationship she stayed in long past its expiry date, and the mother she visited but never truly knew. One by one, she reaches for the life she talked herself out of the first time around. But the two people closest to her — the friends who have always been there, always supportive, always first to suggest the safer, smaller option — are watching. And when Valentina begins exceeding the quiet ceiling that they built for her, Isabel and David begin to coordinate. Then there is Ethan Cole. Washington D.C. Investment sector. Five years younger, which bothered her the first time. He will walk into her life again in Barcelona, and this time Valentina already knows what the long dinner and the careful conversation and the late-night walk along the Passeig de Gràcia will mean — if she doesn't talk herself out of it. She is not going to talk herself out of it.