How Are Titles Written

Being the only child to the Queen of Castle Grey, lost within the confines of mount Trenon, Kilvic is made to learn a number of things best suited to the heir to the Elzcrid bloodline at the hands of tutors handpicked by his mother. However, his fifteenth birthday sends him beyond the reaches of his mother’s domain. She has tasked him with the duty of learning more. Understanding greater things than she can teach him, greater things with which to cope with the curse upon his bloodline as she had been taught by her father and mother. Finding himself in a new kingdom, in an academy designed for only the most elite of mages, Kilvic is tasked to survive the new things he will come to learn, while struggling with the chaos of human association, as he comes to understand that while he may know a great deal about the world from the castle archives, it is a different thing to experience them. The association between people isn’t as easily deciphered as the books made them seem. As he struggles with the task of becoming a mage and a student along with surviving new friendships, failure threatens him at every turn and people prove pettier than the books would have him believe. Yet, despite all these, somewhere hidden in the shadows of the kingdom, a creature stirs, taking from the academy the one thing it values most. Kilvic must survive the trials of the academy, keep his friends, best his first enemy, and ensure that what stirs must not cause more damage than the kingdom can bear, lest the supremacy of Castle Grey be called into question in realms beyond that which most know. And all in time to attend the Winter Hall Fest.

For five years, Mira poured her obsession into The Reckoning of Caelen Mors—a dark fantasy about a ruthless duke and the woman he becomes dangerously fixated on. At 2:47 AM, exhausted and alone, she died at her laptop. Her final words still glowed on the screen: "Duke Caelen finally showed her his true face. It was nothing like she imagined." She woke as Isadora Vess—the secondary character from her manuscript—in a silk bed, in a monster's house, with servants calling her by a name she'd invented. The problem: Mira remembers writing this world. She knows every dark secret. She knows how the story should end. Except her memories are fractured. The manuscript was never finished. And the characters have evolved without her input, making choices she never wrote, saying things she never scripted. Worse—Duke Caelen knows she's different. He's been waiting for her. Across seventeen timelines, he's seen her arrive at this exact moment. And in three of them, everything burned. Now Isadora must navigate a world she created but no longer controls, surrounded by men who each want to use her—a charming prince offering escape, a dark count offering power, and a villain offering the only thing that might be true: the answer to why she's here, and what happens when an author gets trapped in her own story. Because in every version where Isadora arrives, the empire falls. And Caelen has been waiting a very long time to see which ending she'll choose this time.

An Alpha? 😀 Yes—an artistic one. But this time, it’s not him. It’s her. Ayla Cross, a tattoo artist who thought she had escaped her past. But no Owner of The Runed Den, she spent her nights inking stories onto other people’s skin, never realizing her own was hiding one. Until the night he walked in. Kian Vale—a mysterious stranger with eyes like liquid silver and a voice that carried thunder—came seeking a tattoo that matched the mark from Ayla’s dreams: a sigil of power older than any pack legend. When she inked it onto his skin, something inside her awakened. Her tattoos began to move. The moon itself seemed to breathe with her heartbeat. Now hunted by two rival werewolf clans, Ayla learns the truth: she is the Runed Luna, the lost heir of a bloodline thought extinct, born to command the ancient runes that shape reality itself. But every mark she draws binds her closer to Kian… and to the curse that could destroy them both. As shadows close in and bloodlines clash, Ayla must decide: Will she rewrite her fate in ink and moonlight— or be consumed by the story written beneath her skin? Unknown to you. Unknown to me. What could happen next?

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

"I never chose the life I had back then. Never asked for it But now all that I have, I have earned. Maybe not by the right means but they are mine all the same. " His rough hands caressed my tear stained cheeks with such gentleness that it could easily fool me. It almost did. I wanted to scoot away but the ropes tying my hands to the bedpost, tugged at my skin harshly. There was no escape."But even if I get everything in the world, there will always be one thing missing."He didn't have to complete the sentence for me to know the answer.****The darkness from her past had returned hand in hand with the taunting present. Rose was caged in the hands of the devil and he was not ready to let go anytime sooner.****Sequel to the submission series. (Submit #2)Slow updates.Triggers and smut present.I do not own the background picture of this book's cover.Book cover made by me.

"You make it so difficult to keep my hands to myself." He snarled the words in a low husky tone, sending pleasurable sparks down to my core. Finding the words, a response finally comes out of me in a breathless whisper, "I didn't even do anything..." Halting, he takes two quick strides, covering the distance between us, he picks my hand from my side, straightening my fingers, he plasters them against the hardness in his pants. I let out a shocked and impressed gasp. "You only have to exist. This is what happens whenever I see you. But I don't want to rush it... I need you to enjoy it. And I make you this promise right now, once you can handle everything, the moment you are ready, I will fuck you." Director Abed Kersher has habored an unhealthy obsession for A-list actress Rachel Greene, she has been the subject of his fantasies for the longest time. An opportunity by means of her ruined career presents itself to him. This was Rachel's one chance to experience all of her hidden desires, her career had taken a nosedive, there was no way her life could get any worse. Except when mixed with a double contract, secrets, lies, and a dangerous hidden identity.. everything could go wrong.