Romance Letters

Annie Halden was the exact definition of a wallflower. She lived on the sidelines, didn't like attention and worried too much. She wrote letters to herself as her way to get her thoughts out. She never told anyone or let anyone see. Leo Smith, one of the school star athletes and most popular boys, found one of her letters. He started breaking into her locker to read the letters every time there was a new one. He grew concerned about her and wanted to protect her, he wanted to know why she was so broken and who hurt her, he wanted her to know he was there for her - be her shoulder to lean on. How would this friendship work out with Annie being as shy and quiet as she is, never getting close to anyone? How would this friendship last if Annie came to find out the truth about Leo stealing and reading her personal letters?

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

Indulge in a thrilling tale of deception, redemption, and unexpected passion in "Letters to a Dangerous Billionaire." Leilani, a young woman shackled by neglect and despair, takes a daring leap towards freedom by pouring her frustrations into a final farewell. Little did she know that her letter would reach the hands of a mysterious stranger—an anonymous figure who would ignite a fire in her soul. With each exchange, their connection deepens, and against all odds, they decide to meet. But the shocking truth that awaits Leilani shatters her heart into shards of betrayal. Unveiling the dangerous billionaire criminal behind the letters, she realizes her life will never be the same again. Prepare for a rollercoaster of emotions as one woman's destiny intertwines with a ruthless delinquent billionaire, setting off a chain of events that will leave you breathless and begging for more.

There's this unspoken rule in werewolf high society: no matter how tight the mate bond is, business banquets mean booking a hostess. Six years into our bond, my Alpha mate—Brian Stormclaw—met one. Louise. A scrappy Omega with too much pride and not enough sense. When he offered her his black card, she pushed it back and said, "I'm not some Alpha's pampered pet." Brian? Instantly hooked. Like the Moon Goddess herself had dropped her in his lap. He chased her like he wanted her mark on every pack crest. But he forgot something—I was the Luna he wrote ninety-nine love letters to before I said yes. I didn't beg. Didn't snap. Every time he chose her over me, I lit another letter. First one burned on our anniversary—he bailed to wait outside Louise's flower shop, just to walk her home. Letter thirty-four? He left me stranded in a dangerous hunting ground to keep her company. Said she was scared of the dark. Fifty-two? Torched the second he replaced our wedding photo with some sketch she made on. ... And when the ninety-ninth turned to ash, so did whatever was left of us. I walked away. For good.

-WARNING 20+ ONLY CAN READ THIS!-If you are not a fan of MATURE ROMANCE DONT READ THIS! This story is completion of different types of romance, if you are interested you can read this!

His eyes locked on mine wide and wild, he moved towards me and put his hand on my shoulder, lessening the distance between us. I could feel the tension in my own body, the effort of not giving in at that moment, of not letting him pull me against him. Not letting myself take that one chance, however formidable and absurd and unwise, and kissing him the way I had thought, I would never in my life. I had never wanted like this before. I understood him, smiled a little when he smiled. I saw through the defenses he put up to what was underneath. There was no Eric James Winslet more real than the one I saw in his eyes when I looked up at him. "You can close your eyes," He whispered in my ear. My eyes fluttered shut, his mouth came down on mine. And that was it. All the self-control I had exerted over the weeks went by. My arms came up around his neck and he pulled me against him. His hands flattened against my back. I was up on the tips of my toes, kissing him as fiercely as I could. I didn't know what I should have done or said next if it would have been something I could never have pretended away or taken back, but I heard a soft hiss of laughter. ************* Eric James Winslet a ruthless businessman who has already completed 27 yrs of his life being the king of his territory. Scarlett Miller, a business administration student; with the spice of fashion designing. Want to know how their lives get entangled with hatred, possession, & love. A heartbreaking story that will keep you at the edge. Are you ready to be on this journey? Purva Narang (Your author)