Does TagQLog Support Collaboration Features?

Phera Evans thought she'd left her family and pack behind after being devastated by the only three people she ever loved: Axel, Damon, and Zane White, the future alphas of the Red Moon Pack and her older brother and sister's best friends. Determined to forge her own path, Phera leaves the wolf multiverse and becomes a skilled charted accountant and elite warrior at the prestigious Wolf Academy of the Elite in California.But fate has other plans for Phera. Forced to return to the Red Moon Pack, she discovers that the once arrogant playboys she once craved are now ruthless and vicious alphas of the most powerful pack in the multiverse. And they're determined to make her theirs, no matter what. After all, Phera was always meant to be theirs from the beginning, and they'll stop at nothing to claim their princess.As Phera's heart battles with conflicting emotions, she must decide whether to open herself up to love again. When an eternal bond ties her to Axel, Damon, and Zane, will she resist their advances or give in to the passion and desire that still burns between them? Don't miss out on this captivating tale of love, loyalty, and second chances.‘Alpha Triplets Claim’ storyline is based on the very first novel I read by a talented author know as Eva Zahan and the storyline is from her book ‘Ace’s Trap’. Despite having the same sequence in the beginning the book has a different storyline and I wanted to bring it to the reader’s attention. I also want to let everyone know I’ve asked the author before hand if I can use her idea and she has agreed. I have the conversation with the author on my page H.A Shah.

A kiss can change everything. One with your best friend, and it changes the whole dynamic. What will you do when you get to know that your best friend has been in love with you? What will you do when she doesn't want to be friends anymore and wants more instead? * “Everytime I see you with a guy, my skin burns” Millie hisses, pinning me with an intense look that makes my belly flip. I am pinned to the wall with her caging me. “Do you know how hard it is to pretend that you are only my friend, and nothing more? That I love you but cannot have you?” Her words spin inside my head, and the thundering beating of my heart echoes in my ear. How do we come to this situation? I pant as she leans closer, her eyes averting to my parted lips. I am having thoughts of her. Hell, I see her in my dreams so often now that I am not sure what she means to me now. Millie caresses my cheeks and a shiver runs down my spine. “I can't pretend anymore, Grace. It's getting really hard” she whispers in my ear and I squirm. When she meets my eyes, I say something that surprises her. “Then don't.” I crash my lips on hers, crossing whatever lines we had.

At the company team-building event, I got called out by my colleague Samantha Rowler for not removing my price tag—she accused me of being a "freebie chaser." "Oh wow, Carla, you drive a BMW 5 Series. Are you seriously planning to return your clothes within seven days too?" she sneered. I tucked the tag back in and ignored her snide remark. But after the event, as soon as I got home, my phone started blowing up. My chat apps were going insane. A friend had sent me a link: [Luxury-Car Executive Turns Out to Be a Return Addict!] Someone had filmed me leaving the price tag on and posted it to a short-video platform. I opened the comment section and was met with a barrage of insults. [Can't afford to live, huh? Tag warrior.] [Is this car a sugar-daddy gift? Those who know, know.] [OMG, does this woman have some kind of illness? Which brand is this so I can avoid it!] I immediately knew Samantha was behind it. I messaged her to delete the video. Instead, the next second, she blocked me—and pinned a comment to the top of the thread: [You can know a person's face but never their heart!] I was about to post a statement to clarify, my finger hovering over the send button, when I noticed the video's likes had already shot past ten thousand. I laughed. If they wanted a scene, fine—let's make it bigger. I quickly posted a new update: [The outfit is really nice. I'll wear it again next time.] The netizens erupted. The insults doubled, the heat skyrocketed, and the post shot straight to number one trending. I just put my phone down and went to sleep.

In the middle of the night, my smurf account gets added into a group chat called "lucky draw group". The rule of the group chat is rather weird. Whoever gets their hands on the lucky draw that's titled "lucky winner" must reveal their deepest and most shocking secret. I intend to watch the entire drama at first. But that's when a female user named Evie Sachs suddenly posts in the group chat. "My husband has always thought that he's the children's actual father. The truth is, he's not." Everyone in the group chat is quick to spam the chat with laughing emojis. "Miss, you can't just come up with a story that far-fetched without any logic!" "That's a really ridiculous story! Do you seriously take for all men to be idiots?" "We demand photos as proof!" Evie uploads a few photos of her sleeping with other men as well as the dates of her children's birth. The moment I glance at the birthdays, my hand goes slack, causing the milk bottle to fall to the floor. My daughters actually share the same birthdays as Evie's children!

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

My coworkers and I are forcibly dragged into a bizarre game with the initial title displayed as "War of the Plants". Everyone crowds around to choose camps or safe houses with abundant water resources. I am the only one who picks a plastic apartment in the desert with no water or electricity. My female supervisor mocks me in front of everyone, saying I must be out of my mind. No one is willing to team up with me, and they even bet I won't last three days. When choosing abilities, everyone rushes for practical powers like spatial storage or metal control. I, however, choose reverse photosynthesis that allows me to gain energy from air humidity. Everyone immediately mutes me in the game. Clearly, no one wants to hear my desperate cries for help later. But when the system revokes team permissions and administrator functions, everyone is stunned. The game's name is reset to "Magnet Apocalypse".