The Irish Goodbye

In a world where werewolves, vampires and other magical beings live in an uneasy coexistence, Maeve Blackwell, a vampire and heir to the powerful Blackwell family mob finds herself in an unlikely relationship with the Leprechaun king, Sweeny Brockbank. Forced to leave her family, she finds herself drawn to the enigmatic ruler but their fragile peace is shattered when sea raiders invade the realm, taking Maeve and her fairy maid, Aisling as captives. When they attempt to escape, they get lost in the enchanted forest and stumble upon Buile Suibhne, a half-man, half-bird creature guarding a mysterious portal who shows Maeve how to uncover her hidden abilities but their freedom is short-lived as they are recaptured by the raiders and face the terrifying prospect of becoming a sacrificial offering to Oilliphièst, the dreaded Sea monster. Maeve tries to use her newfound abilities to send a distress signal to her tribesmen and in her darkest hour, her old lover leads a daring rescue mission but this comes at a heavy cost, which leaves her disillusioned. Haunted by the horrors she witnesses, she retreats to House Rhys and dwells among the Banshees. When visions of her father's impending death torment her, she embarks on a quest to alter fate. There, she encounters Keith Lafferty, a werewolf and heir to the throne of Larne. Their initial animosity gives way to an intense attraction as they embark on a journey to bridge the divide between the realms. They uncover a long-lost prophecy that hints at the rise of a new hybrid species, destined to bring either salvation or destruction to their world. As the stakes grow higher, they must choose between their own destinies, their duty to their families, and the possibility of a love that defies all odds.

"You have no idea do you?" He whispers, his lips only a millimetre from mine. "No idea about what?" His fingers slip around my waist, pulling me firmly against his body. I feel him everywhere. He's hard where I'm soft. Calm where my heart is beating. He lifts a hand to my face, gently cupping my cheek as he tilts my gaze to meet his. His thumb brushes against my lower lip and I suck in a sharp breath when I notice just how dark his gaze is. "You have no idea the power you have over me." ... Born to a mother who abandoned her family and a father who never even knew he existed, Aaron O Sullivan has spent his entire life fighting to prove he belongs. With a chip on his shoulder and blood on his hands, he’s determined to reclaim the legacy stolen from him. When no one moment of anger causes the one person he's grown to care about everything he's determined to step up and save her despite even if she thinks she doesn't want his help. And what way to protect her other than a fake engagement. Waitress By Day, Stripper By Night, Elle will do whatever it takes to pay off her uncle and finally buy her freedom. But behind her sharp tongue and seductive smile is a secret and trauma so depe she wasn't sure she could heal. Until him. She doesn't understand why he wants to protect her especially because he's the reason she's in this mess to begin with. She's got pain and he's got secrets. What happens when the two collide just how far are they willing to go for the things they desire.

Elena Rossi thought it was just another job. One more shift. One more night serving drinks to rich, powerful men. She didn’t know she was the real product. Trapped inside an exclusive, invite-only event, Elena finds herself dressed up, displayed… and sold to the highest bidder in a private auction she never agreed to. And the man who buys her? Cillian O’Rourke. Irish CEO. Ruthless Mafia king. A man with blood on his hands and control in his veins. Now she lives in his world, in his penthouse, under his rules, surrounded by danger she doesn’t understand. She fights him. Defies him. Swears she’ll never belong to him. But Cillian isn’t interested in forcing her. He wants her to want it. To feel it. To come undone under his gaze until resistance turns into need. Because when Elena Rossi finally breaks… She won’t be trying to escape him anymore.
She’ll be begging for him. One job. One auction. One man who decides she belongs to him, and won’t ever let her forget it.

Having an Awakenist as my wife meant enduring her monkish attitude toward sex. We could only be intimate on the sixteenth of every month. Every detail—my position, rhythm, even my expression—had to follow her rigid rules. If I showed too much pleasure, she would immediately rise and leave. We had been married for five years. Was I ever tired of this? Yes. Still, I always gave in. I accepted these limitations because I loved her. "The Saintess loves me too," I told myself. That faith shattered the day I was sent to extinguish a hotel fire. Amid the flames, I found my wife pressed close to a man in disheveled clothes. Between their arms was a young boy.

I had been in a relationship with Harry Chalamet for ten years. He stood up for me and even ended up in the hospital after a fight. He financially supported me in my education by laboring on construction sites. Even my friends could tell that he was madly in love with me, and I believed it too. Just when we were about to get married, I noticed he often secretly stared blankly at a photo. But the person in that photo wasn’t me…

It was my birthday. I thought he would take me to see the fireworks by the sea, but he showed up with another woman and her child. “Vera has a kid with her, and it’s inconvenient for them. Be a little understanding. She doesn’t know her way around here, and she has a lot of luggage. I’ll just drop them at the hotel.” He said it so casually, as if he were just explaining some trivial, everyday chore. It was that very gentleness of his that made me feel like I was so unreasonable getting angry over it. He helped them into the car. He leaned down to buckle the seatbelt on the child. Then, he turned to me with a smile. “I’ll be right back. Don’t overthink things.” I stood by the roadside and watched them drive away like a picture-perfect little family. As night fell, the sea breeze turned sharp and biting. Still, I waited until a notification of Vera Cannon’s social feed update lit up my screen. He was holding her daughter in his arms. They were watching the fireworks by the beach. It was a surprise I had planned for my own birthday. The comments poured in. [What a perfect match. What a beautiful little family!] Someone asked him why he was not picking me up. He just smiled and said, “Indy is very patient. She won’t be mad.” At that moment, my birthday cake melted into a puddle of frosting. I finally realized that he had not done that to be cruel to me. He was certain that I would always wait for him. However, even the warmest heart grew cold when neglected too many times. The waves crashed against the shore, over and over. With each crash, another shred of my hope washed away. This time, I was not going to wait for him to come back.