Mystery Romance-Webromane & Brave Forbidden Love-Geschichten

In the strict halls of Briarcliff School for boys, 18-year old Hosea finds himself drawn to his charismatic Gym teacher, Ms. Simeon. As their connection deepens, Hosea realizes he’s developed feelings for his teacher that go beyond admiration. But their love is forbidden, and the consequences of discovery could be devastating. Will Hosea and Simeon find a way to be together, or will the weight of tradition and dogma tear them apart?

"Comb your hair with this golden comb in front of a wealthy person’s vanity mirror, and you will become them.” ​Gwen, the wife of a poor man, was utterly tired of living in poverty. Desperate for a way out, she visited her wealthy neighbor’s house, joined in a prayer, and combed her hair in front of Sienna’s vanity mirror. ​Imagine Gwen’s shock when Jeff, Sienna’s husband, wrapped his arms around her and called her “my wife.” She had actually turned into Sienna. But if Gwen was now Sienna ... where was the real one? Was the wealthy socialite now trapped in that shabby house, having become Hans’s wife?

I sold myself to a masked stranger for one night. My brother is dying. The medical bills are drowning me. So I walked into a private auction wearing black lace and a mask, and I let a stranger buy me. He was cold. Commanding. Twice my age. He called me princess and made me beg for things I had never dared to whisper out loud. For one night, I was not the broke, exhausted twin sitting at a hospital bedside. I was his. Every moan. Every tear. Every orgasm. He gave me the first pleasure of my life and then sent me home with fifty thousand dollars and a bruise on my throat that I could not stop touching. I told myself I would never see him again. Then I walked into my new job. He was standing in the corner office. No mask this time. Just a sharp suit, cold eyes, and a smirk that said he had known exactly who I was all along. Ezra Dane. My brother's former best friend. The man who destroyed my family. He owns the company I just got hired at. He signs my paycheck. He holds the door to his office open every morning and waits for me to walk through it. And last night, he sent me a message. My penthouse. 9 p.m. Wear the collar. I should report him. I should quit. I should run as far from this forty two year old nightmare as humanly possible. But when he looks at me with those dark eyes and says good girl, my legs spread before my brain catches up. He wants to own me. And I am terrified that I want to be owned.