A Slow Fire Burning A

Our daughter, Luna Woods, developed a high fever. Her body was burning hot. I immediately dialed 911 for help. The dispatcher on the other end kept repeating his questions. He spoke slowly, as if deliberately stalling for time. By the time I finally heard the ambulance siren, Luna was already turning cold in my arms. In less than a year, my wife and I separated. We were consumed by endless grief and blamed for each other. Afterward, I merely existed for the sake of it. I was a hollow shell of a man. Then, one day, I received a wedding invitation from my ex-wife. The moment I played the audio invitation, a chill ran down my spine. The groom’s voice was identical to that of the slow, dawdling dispatcher from that year! I rushed out, utterly distraught, only to be hit by a roaring train. When I opened my eyes again, I heard Luna crying in the next room. Her forehead was burning hot. My wife hurriedly handed me the phone. “Quick, call 911! I’ll get a wet towel.” My hands trembled as I took the phone. When it was answered, I heard a familiar male voice through the receiver. “911, what’s your emergency?”

When I'm on my break, I decide to help my neighbor, Yvonne Cook, fix the gas valve, which has been leaking gas. But she instantly lodges a report, saying that I've gone against the rules. She demands compensation for the shock that she's suffered as well. I don't bother defending myself. Instead, I just write a reflection report. After that, my squad leader sentences me to disciplinary confinement. Yvonne wastes no time gloating in the tenants' group chat. "It's time to teach these power-abusers a good lesson, anyway!" Three days later, a fire breaks out in Yvonne's apartment. Thick plumes of dark smoke keep rising from the burning apartment. Yvonne wails as she bangs on my door and pleads with me. "Please crack open the door and put out the fire!" I can only sigh from behind my front door. "I'm under disciplinary suspension right now, so I can't break protocol. You should wait for the fire truck instead."

When they were in a proximity of 20 meters, she threw coffee on his secretary. When they were in a proximity of 2 meters, she hit him where the sun doesn't shine. When they were in a proximity of some mere centimeters, she broke his nose. Now, she broke his vase of a million dollars and he is ready to take his revenge. He wants her as his fake fiancée and act the part but what happens when they are surrounded by people believing they are in love and the flowers really do blossom? Amelia Carter is ready to be the fake fiancée but is she ready for the slow caress and steady hands of Mr. Alexeev? Mr. Alexeev is ready to take revenge while making sure he gets out of the arrangements of his mother but is he ready to take on the clumsy but pure Amelia? What happens when the burning red of their attraction forms something akin to... love?

Warning? ⚠️: For 18+ and above. Bastian Lockhart is a sad billionaire with a lot of traumas. He fights his desires for Lilith wanting to protect and not give in to his darker desires. He vowed within himself to protect her. But who will protect him from his darkest desire? Teaser: "You are playing with fire, Lilith." I tried warning her again. "Let me burn daddy," she said. I knew right there that we would both be burning and not just her. Warning ⚠️ this is pure dark romance vibes for my girlies with lots of explicit scenes for 18+

After walking in on her fiance and sister in bed together and then getting abandoned and disowned by her own family for exposing her sister's nudes, Sarah Lane doesn't see any value in living anymore. But then after getting herself run over by a car she meets one of the wealthiest CEO of the country, Hayden Smith who offered her a chance to get her revenge. A contract marriage. But what is in it for the handsome and mysterious billionaire who seems to be harboring a few secrets of his own? Will love be able to heal up the burning fire in his heart.

The deal was simple – have one dinner with the notorious crime lord, Declan Shaughnessy, and my dad’s gambling debts would be canceled. But I knew I was in deep trouble when he met me at the door looking fine as hell with those piercing blue eyes and a mouthwatering body built for sin. Over dinner, I could barely breathe when his hand grazed mine, and that wolfish grin set me quivering down below. An innocent slow dance quickly turned into a down-and-dirty horizontal mambo on his couch. Now I’ve become his burning obsession, and I’m trapped by the new debts my father owes the mafia. When that devilish grin spreads across Declan’s handsome face, I know that he'll never set me free-- especially now that I’m carrying his baby. ******** This steamy romantic suspense story is a standalone novel in the Wicked Billionaires Club series. Enjoy!

"If you don't turn the fuck around and look at me, I'll pull the fucking trigger in my head." Reader Discretion Is Advised, this is not your average love story. The first 27 chapters will draw you in gently, revealing the cracks in Camilla's world, the men who twist her fate, and the fire she never knew she carried. But don’t mistake the slow burn for softness. She learns. She hardens. She rises. From there, things shift. Love turns darker. Desire gets sharper. Violence isn’t just background, it’s survival. And the romance? It’s messy, fierce, and utterly addictive. If you’re here for morally gray men, vulnerable but fiery heroines, and a plot that doesn’t hold back... welcome. This book will hurt you, heal you and leave you breathless.

“The most important clause in our marriage contract is that we are not to have children,” my husband stared at me closely, fire burning in his eyes. “This is supposed to be a five-year contract, five year and that’s it,” he continued, “I thought we agreed on that. No children to tie us down, then we part ways.” “I know that, and I completely agree!” Then he took every single condom out of the nightstand. He inspected them carefully, tossing each one aggressively on the bed as he did so. They were all the same. Full of tiny holes. “Then how do you explain that?” he snarled, his voice dripping with accusation.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment as he devoured my lips as though he was claiming it for himself. I didn't understand what he was doing. Until the pain hit me. The jerk had just poisoned me with a kiss………………………..She had lost everything in the fire. A fire caused by the ruthless tribrid alpha, a walking symbol of disaster. And all she had left was her crippled sister and to protect her, she volunteers to be sold in her sister’s place. With a fire of vengeance burning in her heart, she makes it into her enemy’s territory as his slave. She only has one mission in her heart: avenge her dead mother. There’s only one problem. He’s her fated mate. She’s supposed to hate his guts but why does her body quake in desire at the wake of his enticing touch? With an attraction so dangerous, how will she war against her fate, especially since their souls are entwined together in a curse that is deeper than they can probably handle?

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.