Historias cortas y novelas de Comedy

Julian Hart had me move into his basement so he could trample on my dignity whenever he pleased. What he didn’t know was that I had transmigrated from the real world into the novel. When Julian insulted me, I endured it without talking back. When he slapped me, I licked his palm. When his first love stepped on me with her high heel to assert her dominance, I told her that the scent of her perfume reached me before the pain did. A year later, Julian was so disgusted by me that he almost knelt down and begged me to keep my distance from them. But there was no way I was leaving. I hadn’t come to tear them apart. I had come to join them.

Just clocked out. My bestie, Chloe, texted. Begging me to go wild with her at a bar. I collapsed onto my bed. Exhausted. “No way. My legs are jelly. I can’t tonight.” I splashed some water on my face and stared at my reflection. Pale. Drained. Suddenly, I knew I needed a release. Anything to forget my inhuman, tyrant werewolf boss. I grabbed my phone again, ready to text Chloe. I wanted to type: “My whole body aches. No energy for the bar. I desperately need a rough, deep-tissue massage session tonight.” But my brain was fried. I just typed: “Just need a rough, deep session tonight.” Five minutes later, my screen lit up. But it wasn't a message from Chloe. It was from my cold, untouchable Alpha boss. “Send location.”

There are three things I despise: missed deadlines, office enablers, and Timothy Cullen’s dimpled smirk. But after a gala collision, I wake up trapped inside his broad frame while he panics in my heels! Worse, a mysterious glowing note demands an unthinkable task: “To return to your body, you must kiss Timothy Cullen.” I’d rather swallow rusted thumbtacks, but in the long run would these bitter corporate enemies surrender their pride for real romance?