Church History In Plain Language

"By day, I'm invisible. By night, I'm his darkest fantasy." Jane Puckett doesn't belong at Riverside Academy; not among the trust fund babies and silver spoon elite. She's the scholarship girl who keeps her head down and her grades up, desperate to survive four years in a world that wants her gone. Until she makes one fatal mistake: crossing Ace Monroe. Gorgeous, dangerous, and untouchable, Ace is campus royalty with a cruel streak and an axe to grind. After Jane tanks his grade on a group project he refused to touch, he makes it his personal mission to destroy her. Every day is a new humiliation. Every class, a fresh hell. But Ace doesn't know Jane's secret. When the sun goes down, Plain Jane becomes Jailbird; the most requested dancer at Fantasy Island, the exclusive club where lustful boys go to indulge their filthiest desires. It's the only way she can afford what her scholarship won't cover. The only way she survives. Then fate—or karma—walks through the door. On his twenty-first birthday, Ace Monroe buys a private dance from the masked siren who's been haunting the patrons of fantasy island. He doesn't recognize she is the girl he's been tormenting by day. But he is about to.

In high school, Ivy Monroe was the quiet nerd no one noticed—except when they were laughing at her. And Liam Calloway? He led the laughter. Now Ivy’s all grown up—famous, flawless, and filthy rich. She’s the CEO of her own luxury fashion brand, and she’s never looked back... until her father drops a bomb, “You’re getting married. To him.” That’s right. Liam freaking Calloway. The arrogant golden boy who once humiliated her in front of the entire school is now the heir to a crumbling empire. And the only way to save both their families is to tie the knot. Ivy agrees, but with rules. No touching. No feelings. And definitely no falling in love. But Liam isn’t the same boy from high school. He’s hotter, cockier, and way too determined to make their fake marriage feel a little too real. Let the games begin. Because this time, she’s the one holding the power. And he has no idea what he’s up against.

Harlow isn't sure what to think when she wakes up somewhere she's never been. With a man she doesn't remember. This is the stuff of nightmares. Or maybe... Just maybe it could be a fairytale.

What happens when people start going missing from a range of small towns in the middle of nowhere? The local police department have absolutely no idea what to think or how to investigate the disappearances or what to do with the body count piling higher and higher. Once again Mary wakes up outside the little wooden cottage naked and covered in blood. This always happens when something happens that ticks her off. Mostly it's her father not letting her do anything or never letting her leave the house. Constantly moving around also kind of defeats the purpose of going out and making friends if you are just going to be leaving the town in the next couple of months. Is Ryder really Mary's father and if he is where is her mother and why does he never talk about her? Should Ryder have told Mary that she is the Werewolf Princess? Should he have told her while she was growing up like he had planned before the accident or should he let her believe that she is a normal human being to help keep her safe and calm? Will they be able to help keep Dora and Mary alive when the time comes for Dora's forced marriage into slavery to cover her father's gambling debt with the goblins. Will Dora see her mate and have the curse removed? Why is Hera on the killing spree and what triggered it in the first place? Could it be Mary, her human who is afraid of what she is and what she smelt after her blood session as Mary had started calling her blackouts. Follow along and find out the secrets of the forest and what it hides in plain sight from unsuspecting humans and supernaturals alike.

At graduation, I invited my classmates to attend my engagement party, but what I didn’t expect was the total meltdown one of my classmates had when she saw my engagement photos. She strutted over, full of herself, and demanded that I take off my dress so she could use it to polish her shoes. I blinked in confusion, thinking she must have lost her mind. I laughed and suggested she head over to the campus clinic to get checked out. Instead, she exploded, pointing a finger right in my face as she started yelling. “You leech! How dare you wear something so expensive?” she screamed. “You’ve been spending all of my boyfriend’s money on your filthy clothes! Have you no shame? Get down on your knees and apologize, or I guarantee you'll regret it. Who knows where you'll end up tomorrow? Maybe in the hands of some trafficker?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Who would’ve thought that my fiancé, whose tuition fees I paid for, had the nerve to keep a secret mistress behind my back?

For six years, I was the perfect wife. I ironed the linen. I cut the roses. I swallowed every humiliation with a smile. And told myself that patience was the same thing as strength. I was wrong. When my husband sat me down at my own dinner table and ordered me to apologize to his mistress—The woman he had been choosing over me, openly, for years—something inside me didn't Break. It crystallized. I picked up my bag. I walked out into the Detroit Cold. And three blocks later, standing under a streetlamp on East Jefferson, I made a phone call that shattered everything I thought I knew about myself. My name is not what he called me. I am not the powerless orphan he laughed at as I walked out his door. I am not the woman with nowhere to go and no one waiting for her. I am Serena Caldwell—lost daughter of a billionaire empire, heiress to legacy twenty years in the making. And the last woman my husband ever should have humiliated at her own table. He thought discarding me was the easiest thing he had ever done. He had no idea it was the last mistake he would ever make. I spent six years being invisible. Now I am coming back—not as the broken wife he betrayed, but as the woman who will dismantle everything he built, brick by brick, until there is nothing left but the echo of his own arrogance. He wanted me gone. He has no idea what gone look like yet.