Grist For The Mill

"Kane stays unmoving, and I realize he’s barely breathing. I don’t think he needs oxygen to stay alive, so that’s not too surprising, but I can’t’ figure out why he is so still. His hand at my waist is so very close to my breastbone, the longing for him to slide it up only a few inches, to touch me in places no one ever has before, has a gasp leaving my lips. I have to bite down again to keep from moaning, and he hasn’t even kissed me yet." Emory I was born to be the Alpha of my pack. But now... I am here, in the castle of our greatest enemy, the Vampire King. I should hate Kane, but the more time I spend with him, the more I long for him. I am not here to be his lover, though. I am here to be his feeder. But even before his lips graze my skin the first time, I know I would give myself to him in every way imaginable if only he should ask. Kane I long to taste the wolf shifter, but not her blood, her body. But I'm already betrothed to marry another vampire, and if I call that off, I have resigned my kingdom to yet another war. There has to be a way to keep Emory as my feeder but not claim her in my bed. I just haven't figured it out yet. But I have enemies, and every moment she spends here in my home, Castle Graystone, she's in danger. I can protect her, but at what cost? Am I willing to risk everything to make her mine? Or should I put my duty to my kingdom first?

"Now, Gary. I understand that you're twenty-four. But I need you to train in restraining your sexual desire, you're not a horny teenager. So, we will not be leaving this restaurant for another half an hour. Then you're going to go to my place where I will exhaust you until you climax over and over again." She told me as she drinks her coffee slowly and started rubbing my upper thigh again. "Drink your coffee baby, you will need your strength." I smiled at her as she smiled back knowingly. "Say thank you, mistress." She whispered in my ear, making me groan, as I instantly get hard again. ***** When Gary worked for Adriana it was for the experience, and for the amount of money that they offer for an easy administration job. He was a boxer by night, it was his hobby, his real passion in life. Then the time came when he needed more money because of his brother, who was doing bets on the side for his boxing match. Until he finally came to Adriana and took on her offer to be a sugar baby. ***** Megan is a very well-known businesswoman. She was raised the hard way, where she didn't have the luxury of money. Now that she's a billionaire in the making, she doesn't have the time to date. But she likes to play, and she was bored being hassled by men for her money until she found Adriana. Until one fateful day when Gary showed up instead of her usual companion. From him, she learned the true meaning of living. Will, she finally settled down with him? Will he ever be comfortable around her wealth? Let's dive in and find out, shall we? ******** *Warning! R-Rated for 18+ due to strong, explicit language and sexual content*

Grace Hammond lost the most important person in her life, her grandmother, Juliet. Left with little beyond a failing farm and not much clue how to run it, she's trapped-- either she gives up three generations of roots and leaves, or she finds some help and makes it work. When a mysterious letter from Juliet drops a much needed windfall in her lap, Grace knows she has one chance to save the only place she's ever called home and posts a want-ad.The knight that rides to her rescue is Robert Zhao, an Army veteran and struggling college student. A first generation Korean American, Rob is trying desperately to establish some roots, not just for himself, but for the parents he's trying to get through the immigration process, a secret he's keeping even from his best friends. Grace's posting for a local handyman, offering room and board in exchange for work he already loves doing, is exactly the situation he needs to put that process on track.Neither is prepared for the instant chemistry, the wild sweet desire that flares between them. But life in a small town isn't easy. At worst, strangers are regarded suspiciously, and at best, as profoundly flawed-- and the Hammond women have a habit of collecting obscure and ruthless enemies. Can their budding love take root in subtly hostile soil and weather the weeds seeking to choke them out?

The Weight of Gold is a trilogy about what happens after the meet-cute — not the falling, but the building. It follows Eleanor across seven years as she trades inherited splendor for a chosen life: a small house, a workshop full of sawdust and linseed oil, a diner owner who becomes her true north, and a town that becomes her home. But it is also the story of the people pulled into the orbit of a life genuinely lived. A cousin who arrives hollowed-out by the wrong marriage and finds her footing in native plants and honest argument. A mother who mistakes the form of a life for the life itself, and slowly, carefully, begins to dismantle that mistake. A sculptor who needs wood that speaks. A town that goes better for being attended to. At its heart, this is a story about craft — the craft of furniture, of restoration, of building institutions and relationships and selves. About the difference between the shape a life is supposed to take and the shape it wants to take. About a word Daniel uses for bleached wood: ghost — not white, not absent, but elsewhere, waiting for the right conditions to return. Eleanor spends seven years learning that ghost is not an ending. It is the beginning of something better.

At Opaline Corp, the lowest-performing employee had to eat a plate of pasta mixed with live worms. This time, Tristan Crocker lost three clients and landed dead last. To keep Tristan from feeling singled out, my wife, Wendy Kline, hit me with a nine-million-dollar performance penalty because I showed up one minute late while sick—even though I'd brought in three million in revenue. Just like that, I became the first employee in company history with negative earnings. Grinning, Tristan shoved the plate toward me. "Wendy updated the company rules last night to keep everyone in line. Anyone who's late gets penalized three times their performance. You always said mistakes deserve punishment. Now that it's your turn, you're not backing out, right?" Every eye in the room locked on me, waiting for me to lose it. Wendy quickly sent me a message: [The nine million is only on paper. It's not a real fine. With your talent, you'll earn it back in three months. Tristan's allergic to worms. If he ends up in the hospital over a punishment, it'll damage the company's reputation. And if people hear we punished an outsider, that'll look even worse.] [You're my husband. You're one of us. I love you, which is why I'm giving you the chance to show some leadership.] [Once this blows over, I'll give you an extra twenty dollars a month, okay?] When I didn't reply, she finally snapped. "Company rules apply to everyone, even the top performer. If you don't like it, you're free to leave." I nodded, unclipped my badge, and set it on the table. "Fine. I quit." I looked at her. "And while we're at it, let's get divorced."

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.