Are There Any TV Adaptations Of Nailist Book?

He doesn’t knock. He breaks the door down—and your back with it. In Nailed: Men In Heat, the men are ruthless, brutal, and always hard. They bend you over desks, shove you face-first into pillows, and split you open like they paid for the right. No sweet talk. No cuddling. Just cum, bruises, and the sound of skin slapping skin. You’ll gag. You’ll drool. You’ll beg. And he’ll just keep going. Spit-soaked. Ass-up. Throat-fucked. He’ll ruin your hole, coat your insides, and leave you leaking for days. If you’re not shaking by the end of the chapter? You’ll be begging for the next man to finish the job. These are raw, relentless, hole-filling fucks—and they always finish deep. One thrust and you’re addicted.

I fell in love with a cold, taciturn tattoo artist named Henry Kane. So I deliberately damaged my tattoo again and again, picking at the skin and reworking the design, just to see him a few more times. By the third visit for touch-ups, scrolling comments suddenly appeared before my eyes: “I’m dying of laughter. This desperate female lead literally destroyed her freshly tattooed skin just to see the male lead again, and she still didn’t dare confess her feelings.” “Henry Kane is actually the embodiment of an ancient ferocious beast who sat on mountains of gold and silver but refused to spend them, choosing instead to open a tattoo studio to experience mortal life.” “He looks icy and distant, but his possessiveness has long since maxed out.” “He was just afraid his violent nature would scare his woman away.” I looked at the man in front of me, who was lowering his head as he wiped down the tattoo machine, and he did indeed give off an unmistakable keep-your-distance aura. But the comments claimed that he wanted to possess me? “Um… Excuse me?” The man tilted his head slightly, and under the weight of his deep gaze, the confession lodged in my throat. My mind short-circuited, and I blurted out, “I… I wanted to tattoo it on my lower back this time.” In an instant, the comments exploded in joy. “Woohoo! We’re taking off!” “Lower back, you say? That’s a sensitive spot! Can this pure-hearted ferocious beast really hold back?” “Good grief, straight to the undressing scene! This cunning move by the female lead is operating on a whole other level!” The man’s hand gripping the tattoo machine jerked to a sudden stop, and the air seemed to freeze for a few seconds. Then he answered, his voice slightly hoarse and unreadable, “Alright.”

A boy stuck between who he was, who he has become & who he could be. Plinio Murray or as he prefers to be called, Nio, is a bully. He picks fights with anyone for no reason. He is cruel. His face is scarred. He is savage. His hits nearly killed a boy last year. He is ruthless. His pockets are brimming with illegal money. He is the one of whom everybody is scared. His grades are failing. Not that he gives a shit but Mr. Harrison has tied him in a study session the school's sweetheart. Famous by the nickname Angel, Celeste James is everybody's favorite. With her quarterback boyfriend Kevin, they are the golden couple of the high school. Beginnings of the study session are rough and pretty electric. Already caught in between her secrets, Plinio is nothing but a headache. Just when she decides to end the study sessions with him, Celeste learns that perhaps Plinio isn't much hopeless after all. Can a bully always hurt others and not get hurt on the way? After all what goes around comes around. Twisted truths, cheating partners and a gradually blossoming love; maybe there isn't much difference between who is beautiful and who is battered.

When Dexter Welch, a security guard who works in the residential area, sees me driving my pink Toyota Corolla everywhere, he's very certain that I'm a sugar baby who's being backed by her own sugar daddy. On the first day, I see one word getting carved into the car hood. It says "bitch". I merely give the hood a wipedown without uttering a word. Later on, I swap out the current SD card of my dashcam to an SD card that has a 512 GB memory. On the second day, my car windows get smashed in. When I go over to the property management office to check the security footage, the front desk agent tells me that the security camera overseeing my car "happens" to be broken. Dexter leans against the desk with a grin on his face. "If that car of yours is ruined, then so be it. Tell your sugar daddy to buy you another one." I crouch down and take a picture of the damage. Then, I save it into a folder called "evidence" in my phone. On the third day, two of my tires have gone flat. When I bend down to pick up a spare tire, Dexter hugs me from behind all of a sudden. He murmurs into my ear, "What's so good about sleeping with an old codger? Why don't you date me instead? I'm young and strong—" That's when I grab a wrench and smash it right into his arm. As Dexter nurses his injured arm, he glares at me. "How dare you lay a finger on me! Go ahead and lodge a report, then! My uncle's the property manager here! What can you do about me, hmm?" I silently note down Dexter's work ID without saying anything. On the fourth day, I drive another pink car back to the apartment. As soon as Dexter notices the flash of pink in its usual parking slot, he smiles as he exits the guardhouse. Then, he pulls out a key from his pocket and scratches my car with all his strength. An older gentleman who happens to be walking his dog nearby freezes in his tracks. He sounds so startled that his voice actually cracks. "Have you gone nuts? Do you know the model of the car you've just scratched? That's a top-tier Rolls-Royce!"

I was a brilliant artist. But I crushed my right hand saving my mafia husband, Vincent, and my ability to create died with it for three years. Vincent promised he'd make me whole again. Our private doctor swore he was doing everything he could. But my hand remained numb, useless. Then, one day, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world. "Make sure she can never create again," Vincent told the doctor. "I can't have Isabella threatening Sophia's place in the art world!" "But, Mr. Torrino, another procedure might... she could lose the hand for good." "I don't care what happens to her! Sophia saved my life. I will not let her down!" It turned out my husband was the one who had destroyed me. And the assassin, Sophia, was the woman he truly loved. He let her claim my designs, turning her into the art world’s new darling while I was trapped in a broken body. When I confronted him, pregnant with our child, he slapped me in public and told the world I was losing my mind. That night, I burned everything that bound me to him. Then I dialed an encrypted number I hadn't used in what felt like a lifetime. "Grandpa. In three days, I need to disappear."

Nadia Reyes is a thief known as "The Ghost" — one job away from clearing a debt that’s threatening her life and her brother’s life. Her target: the Ember Diamond, an 80-million-dollar jewel locked in a billionaire’s penthouse 40 floors up. But Damian Cross is waiting for her. CEO. Ruthless. And the one who set the trap. The diamond is fake. The job was bait. And now he has a counter-offer: be his fake girlfriend for 30 days. Rules: No touching. No falling. No feelings. But living in his world of galas, lies, and luxury means the line between fake and real starts to blur. And when enemies close in, Damian’s promise is simple: _They won’t touch you. But what happens when Nadia finds out the deal wasn’t just a deal? What happens when she finds out Damian knows more? Was their meeting just a coincidence? They have 30 days and their clock is ticking!