Drew Arellano

The Rossi mafia family followed an ancestral rule. Before marriage, the heir received one chance each year to draw lots. Drawing a fortunate lot meant he could choose his own spouse and avoid an arranged marriage. Dante Rossi drew an unfortunate lot for five consecutive years, and I, who had been dating him for seven years, never managed to marry him. This year marked the sixth year. I overheard his conversation with Marco Valentino, the Underboss. "Mr. Rossi, you drew a fortunate lot again." Dante's voice carried an unprecedented coldness. "Same as always, switch it to an unfortunate lot." Marco hesitated, then tried to persuade him. "Mr. Rossi, you've switched it for five years straight. Aren't you worried Celia will leave? Celia's the most beautiful woman in Nopales. Half the men in the city are chasing her." Dante said with absolute certainty, "She won't. Celia loves me too much. She won't marry anyone else. "Years ago, Livia's father died saving me. His dying wish was for me to stay by her side for five years. After this year ends, I'll give Celia a grand wedding as compensation." My last shred of hope died after I heard those words. Dante probably did not know that the Rossi family had one final ancestral rule. If the heir failed to draw a fortunate lot six times, he would lose the right to choose his own marriage. Moreover, I would soon be marrying someone else.

Adaline Cintron was a young pretty girl suffering from an anxiety disorder called selective mutism. She was known as the pretty dumb girl because she found great difficulty in expressing herself orally thus she would remain mute in public or social gatherings. The Cintrons were among the rich families in Blitland, they had identical twin girls who were the total opposite of themselves. One was the jovial and happy type, always seeking attention from the public and loving to be praised. The other was not only known as the pretty dumb girl but also a walking dead, she never socializes orally, always quiet in a corner with a blank face expressing no emotions. Adele had always felt and thought she was the most loved and the best among her twin sister, she always wanted to contrast herself from the dumb Adaline and wanted to be better than her in every way possible. But what will happen when she finds out that her dumb twin sister would get married to the most handsome bachelor, The handsome CEO is rumoured to be a ruthless psychopath known for being heartless and doing things without any humanity. Would Adele allow her twin sister to get married to the man of her dreams? She was always the perfect one among both of them, what would be her reaction when she comes to the notice that her parent made an arranged marriage between Adaline and the heartless CEO? Read to find out how the tug of war between both sisters ended.

A San Francisco boy. Famous actor and model. Renowned playboy. Damaged lover. And a heartless robot. He needs to fix his reputation. I need money for my sister's treatment. Everything about us is fake ... but sometimes the line between fake and real can get blurred. Enrique Blackburn turned himself into a robot. Untouchable. Emotionless. The quintessential bachelor of the silver screen. He doesn't do love. He can never say the words. Especially not to me, his contracted phony girlfriend. But despite the consequences I let him take my breath and steal the things I know. Like fire on fire, he burns himself into my heart. And that's the last place I want him to be. We made an arrangement. We agreed to a contract. No sex. No love. No relationship. Can I unfold him? Can I make this real? Can I make him find his heart? But most importantly - can I make him say the words?

The Huntress - Luna Eileen follows a young Celtic witch living with her coven in the wilderness of Alaska in the late 1960's. She is about to find out that the world is far stranger than she or even her elders ever believed. Celtic gods, werewolves, and more come together in this witchy romance.

Hi there. Have you ever heard of the San Francisco Boys? No? That’s surprising. They’re kind of hard to miss — masks, billions of followers on YouTube, death-defying stunts that make your heart stop mid-beat. Reckless. Untouchable. Addictive to watch. Yeah … those guys. BUT … these stories ain’t really about them. Not exactly. They’re about the girls who get pulled into their chaos … and survive. About what happens when one of those boys stops being a legend… and becomes your worst mistake. How do I know? Because I’m one of those girls. Melaena Angélica Blackburn. A girl who fell for a San Francisco boy. Damion Grimm. All-time playboy. Professional pain in my ass. Double world champion. Thrill chaser with a death wish and a god complex. He lives by the rules — HIS rules. Ride hard. Screw fast. Feel nothing. That’s how he keeps his demons on a leash. He doesn’t do blondes. He doesn’t do promises. And he sure as hell doesn’t do me — his best friend’s little sister. He shattered me first. And I’ve hated him ever since … or maybe I just needed a reason to. Because hate starts to feel a lot like something else when it burns hot enough. But … the Blackburn name is cursed. My psycho grandfather? Yeah. Even death didn’t shut him up. Old enemies crawl back. Secrets crack open. Monsters rise. And I've learned real fast that evil doesn’t always look like a monster. Sometimes it wears a familiar face. Control slips. Lines blur. Fate? She’s a cruel bitch. But I’m not the girl who breaks. I’m the one who burns. And I’m going to break every damn rule to get what I want.

It was almost New Year. I had just withdrawn money from the bank when I noticed that the amount on my passbook didn't match the cash in my hand. I counted carefully—my passbook showed a different figure than the five thousand dollars I was holding. Frustrated, I turned and went back to the counter to find the teller who had handled my transaction. Clutching the receipt, I tried to be polite. "Excuse me, I think there might be a mistake with this transaction." Instantly, she snapped, pointing her finger at my nose. "Don't you know that once you leave the counter, we are not responsible for any discrepancies?" I waved my hands, trying to explain. "No, wait, look again. I clearly withdrew five thousand dollars, but on my passbook, it shows…" She cut me off impatiently. "When you filled out the form, it was all right there. Once you leave the counter, it's not our problem. You signed the form yourself, confirming everything. Are we supposed to correct it every time someone claims a mistake after leaving the bank?" I froze. No wonder she kept repeating that the bank isn't responsible after leaving the counter. She thought I had come back to ask for more money. What I was really trying to explain was simple: I withdrew five thousand, yet my passbook showed that I deposited five thousand.