Stolen Touches

I save the Alpha. He crowns my sister. "Miles... I'm your mate," I blurt, hoping that will break through his confusion and make him see me for who I truly am. He only stares quietly at me, but I can see the conflict and confusion in his expression. "I'm sorry, Rhea. You're beautiful, and your scent..." his words trail as he buries his nose on my neck and inhales deeply. "It's the sweetest I've ever known. But I love your sister, and I made a promise I don't intend to break. We will have to reject the mate bond." "Why won't you believe me?" I plead, my voice raw. "I'm the girl you met that night. I am your mate!" Miles' gaze hardens as he points toward the exit. "You need to leave, Rhea. Or I'll have security escort you out." "You liar!" I scream as I yank Roxy's hair. "You've stolen everything from me!" I feel Miles' hands gripping my shoulders as he yanks me off her, shoving me backward. I land hard on my butt. "Listen to me, Rhea," he hisses, his voice filled with venom, his eyes cold. "I don't want to see you near me or Roxy again. If you do, I'll have you banished." He takes a step closer, towering above me. "I, Alpha Miles Mondragon, reject you, Rhea Chapman, as my mate. Accept it or reject it; I don't fucking care." Have you ever watched your Knight in shining armor stolen from your very own fantasy? It could be the most heartbreaking thing. What do you do when the man fated to love you calls you a liar? When the boy you save becomes the Alpha who destroys you? This is my story, and how my fate was stolen.

When her marriage ended she thought it was the end until she dusted herself and reentered the working world. She never thought she was going to find her life and the love like no other. The Stolen Moments kept her on her toes and alive

When Luna, a gifted but struggling artist, receives a mysterious commission to paint for a powerful art patron, she’s drawn into the opulent world of Alejandro Moreau — a dangerously seductive billionaire with secrets buried beneath his charm. From the moment they meet, their connection is electric, tangled in erotic tension and forbidden longing. As Luna explores her art and her desires, Alejandro pulls her deeper into his world with sensual games and emotional manipulation. But their passion comes at a price. Alejandro is married — to Isadora, the most dangerous and influential woman in the country. And when Isadora discovers the affair, instead of revenge, she kidnaps Luna… and seduces her. Now trapped in a twisted triangle of lust and obsession, Luna must navigate power, dominance, and the dangerous pull of both husband and wife. But only one choice will define her future — and her freedom. In a story brimming with eroticism, betrayal, and psychological control, “Forbidden Touch” explores the cost of desire, and the blurred lines between love, power, and possession.

Everyone called my sister Alessia a prodigy. I was the only one who knew she was a thief. From the day I moved back into the brownstone, she started taking from me. Quietly. Carefully. My designs. My sketches. My drafts. Everything I created would appear under her name before I even had time to finish it. The family stood behind her. Always. My father, Salvatore Lucchese, head of the family, his word law itself, said he believed Alessia. So I became the liar. The plagiarist. The disgrace. They threw me out of the outfit's front shop. Blacklisted me from the industry. Erased my name. Then one of her loyal admirers ran me down in the street. That was the end. Or it should have been. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day before the national jewelry competition. This time, I didn't draw a single line. Let's see what my darling sister delivers… when the well has run dry.

Even if he hated me, I couldn’t look away from him. Even if he called me an imposter, a trickster, all I could think of was how alluring his scent was. Even when he was ready to take my sister’s words over mine, I couldn’t help falling for him. I wanted him to take me in his arms and tell me that the last few weeks had been a dream after all. That he loved me, like a true mate would. I wanted him to be my prince charming. To be my salvation. But that was not my fate. Goddess forbid if I had anything easy in life! Sometimes, I truly believed that this mate bond was the curse. Not my being the Stealer. Callista Leander turned eighteen with hopes of finding her happily ever after. But instead, she was left locked in a tower of a castle, doomed to be married off to her true mate’s feral brother to save him from certain death. All because of one curse and a conniving sister. Her life was suddenly filled with betrayals and secrets, and in every corner she looked, danger lurked. Now, with the whole world against her. At the mercy of an angry king, her oblivious one true mate, will she make it out alive on the other side?

The year I turned fourteen, Grandma and I were crammed into a beat-up trailer on the edge of a desert town. She couldn't afford paint, so she mixed colors from the cheapest red clay pigment at the general store. When a frame broke, she hammered it back together herself. When canvas tore, she patched the back with old cloth and sealed it with a paste she boiled from leftover church wax and cheap resin. Grandma never went to school. She painted out of pure love, and she kept at it for thirty years. Then one summer, a gallery owner named Evelyn Hart crawled into Grandma's leaky shed and examined every painting, flipping each one over to study both sides. The next day, every last painting was gone. Finished oils, sketches, pigment records, old photographs, frames. Everything cleared out overnight. Three months later, Grandma walked into Evelyn's gallery and saw her own painting, Madonna of the Red Rock, hanging in the brightest spot. But the brass nameplate beside it bore Evelyn's name. She lunged for the painting. The security guards pried her fingers loose and dragged her out the door. That night, a blizzard sealed off the roads. She pounded on the glass, but no one came. The next morning, when I found her outside the gallery, her body was already frozen solid. After the funeral, I went to clean out what was left of the burned shed. Inside the lining of an old brush pouch, I found a small scrap of painted canvas. It was a piece Grandma had trimmed off while repairing Madonna of the Red Rock. The thief had missed it. I tucked it away and kept it. For twenty years. Twenty years later, I was the compliance director at an international art marketplace. A young woman submitted an auction application for a series of paintings. The Desert Madonna Series was about to be sold to collectors and private museums around the world. The collection was valued at more than $150 million. I opened the file. In the artist field, I stared at the name for a long time. "Application denied."