Baker Street Irregulars

"You are mine!" He said with his dominating voice holding my neck, he was choking me, I was frightened to the very core, shaking. "The moment I paid you that huge sum of money, you became an asset to me" he added "You can't back out now. It's too late" he said again, still holding me. "I'm not yours" I managed to say in a cracked voice. "I will never be yours" I replied with a cracked voice trying to breathe." "You are nothing, you are just a mere whore with nothing else but a standing pole, a hoe who spreads her legs for money and  that's all you will ever be. A stripping hoe!" he said, tears rolled down from my cheeks as I began to cry. "If you try to break the deal we have by revealing it to an outsider, you will be dead! And come to think about it, who would believe the words that come from a stripping hoe like yourself? No one, no one will ever believe you! Because you know what you are? A complete Street whore. That's exactly what you are and what you will ever be." "If I'm a complete whore to you. Why did you choose me?" "Because you are nobody. I don't want my family digging into your profile and finding something, so I chose you. You were the perfect match that fit into all of this charade" he said intuitively. "I don't want to do this anymore,  I will wire you back your money first thing tomorrow morning" I said, trying to leave. He drags my hand vigorously. I was scared to the very core, shaking like a drenched rat. "You don't seem to understand the concept of our agreement, you don't seem to understand, Khloe"

Willow Wildwoods is a witch, she has self esteem issues mostly stemming from her poor relationships and her narcissistic boyfriend. She is a curvy girl and an artist, but when a full moon ritual and a wish opens up a whole new world where she discovers her boyfriend isn’t what he seems and that she has four supernatural fated mates she is in for a wild ride. Hikaru’s private jet sets down at Logan Airport under the full moon and they get ushered to a penthouse where they will be under the protection of werewolves. The little nonbinary fox shifter will have a personal guard who they immediately realize is their fated mate. Asim doesn’t like the idea of babysitting a fox shifter. He’s a warrior and Alpha Guard, why should he have to babysit some foreign fox shifter? How is he supposed to do his duty when that little shifter turns out to be the mate he has been waiting to meet his entire life? Aiden gave up on love and meeting his mate. His fated mate didn’t even acknowledge the bond 200 years ago, so now that he has met Willow and has a second chance he won’t let her slip through his claws at any cost. He will have the little witch paint a mural for his supernatural nightclub and show her just how generous dragon shifters can be. Raff seems to be carefree, skateboarding through the underground fae markets and creating street art by day, bartending by night. But he knows there is more to life and his girlfriend isn’t it. How do they all come together and what about these mysterious disappearances of supernatural beings that keep occurring? How is it connected to them?

"I'm a mess, trying to fix what I became and for your own good maybe you should walk away." — Zayn Cole Santiago. On the surface Zayn Santiago has everything. A powerful name, a prestigious law degree within reach and a father who runs the country's most influential firm. But beneath the surface is a man held together by anger and adrenaline, spending his nights in underground fighting rings and illegal street races, chasing the only feeling that drowns out the silence his mother left behind when she took her life. By day he's the son of the prospective president. By night he's a completely different kind of dangerous. He bleeds for fun and calls it living. Aliya Martinez is a 21-year-old pre-law student with an ambition to become one of the best lawyers in the world. She’s the calm to his storm, The light to his darkness, The peace he never knew he needed, And the perfection in his ruin. Like fire and gasoline, they were never supposed to cross paths, but one night was all it took to turn everything upside down. When Zayn saves a drunk girl from a club, he thinks that’s the end of it—until a photograph surfaces of him carrying an unconscious girl into his penthouse at 2 a.m. With his father, Eduardo Santiago, running for the presidency, the scandal threatens everything. The solution is simple. An arranged engagement between Zayn and the girl. For two years. What starts as a fake relationship turns into something far more complicated as real feelings surface and buried secrets threaten to destroy everything they’ve built. Some secrets don't stay buried. Some feelings don't stay fake. Some pasts should never collide. But some ruins are far too beautiful to walk away from.

She’s a widow by day, a wild biker by night. Two ruthless men want her. Only one will own her in the end. Carlotta Russo survived her marriage to the cruel Alpha Dante—now, at just eighteen, she’s a widow with scars and secrets. By daylight, she keeps her head down, playing the good girl everyone wants to break. But after dark, she becomes a legend on the city’s underground racetrack—leather-clad, fearless, riding her bike like she’s running from hell itself. And hell is coming for her—twice. Gabriel, the school’s dangerous king, wants her on her knees, desperate for his touch. Paxton, the cocky, blue-eyed street racer, wants her screaming his name, begging for more. They don’t just want her. They want to own her. Tonight, the rules are simple—first to catch her, first to claim her. The loser walks away. The winner gets Carlotta in his bed. All night. No limits. “You want a taste, Gabriel?” Paxton smirks, eyes dark with hunger. “Beat me on the track. Winner takes her home.” Gabriel’s grin is pure sin. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you forget you ever belonged to another man.” Carlotta’s heart races almost as fast as her bike. She should run. She should fight. But every wicked promise, every hungry glance, makes her body ache for more. In the dark, between burning engines and hotter hands, she’s the prize in a game that will break every rule—and maybe her. Widow. Biker. Bad girl in the making. Tonight, Carlotta will be claimed. But when the sun comes up, who will she be calling Daddy? 18+ ONLY. BDSM, EROTIC, AND RAW HOT SCENES INSIDE. Read this book if you want to cum hard and beg for more.

It was just another morning commute—until he happened. Across the train aisle sat a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a high-end magazine and straight into a power struggle. His voice sliced through the air, sharp and commanding, as he chewed someone out over the phone like he ran the damn universe. Arrogant. Entitled. Dressed like a Wall Street god. Correction: he looked like a god. That’s where the charm ended—or so I thought. When the train screeched to a stop, he stood up in a hurry, stormed off… and left his phone behind. Did I pick it up? Yep. Did I snoop? Absolutely. Photos, contacts, a few mysterious texts—I couldn’t help myself. Did I keep it longer than I should’ve, building stories in my head about the man behind the voice? Yeah… I did that too. When I finally gathered enough nerve to return it, I marched into the glass-and-steel fortress he called an office. He wouldn’t even come out to meet me. So I dropped his phone on the desk outside his office door. And maybe—I left a photo on it first. Not exactly the professional kind. What I didn’t expect? A message. From him. What followed were late-night texts that burned hotter than anything I’d ever known. Words became whispers. Whispers turned into fantasies. I was falling—for someone I hadn’t even really met. He and I? Total opposites. Fire and ice. Chaos and control. But when we finally came face to face, it wasn’t just sparks. It was an inferno. What happened next? Let’s just say… falling for him was the easy part. Surviving what came after? That’s where the real story began.

“Please Sir, don't divorce me. I will do whatever you want, but not a divorce.” Carolyn pleaded desperately with the man that everything about him was screaming danger.  She was taken aback by the coldness the man was exuding when he turned to face her. His eyes held so much darkness that she flinched. All her senses awoke blaring alarm bells in her head to get away, but to where? She had been walking helplessly in the street after she discovered her aunt's cruel intentions towards her on her wedding day. Until that young man mistook her as the bride of this man and brought her to the altar to marry this man who is scaring the living daylights out of her. He took a slow stride to her, held her chin with his index finger making her eyes meet his, and said. “Little bunny, you did not only trick my assistant into believing you're my bride, but you're also asking for a favor?“ “I'd like to sound a note of warning. Being my wife means you're ready to stay in my hell. You seem too fragile to be in my abyss, you might die, and there's no going back once you're in. Are you still willing?". He asked. “Yes, I am willing. In exchange, you'll have to protect me from my aunt and her goons.” She boldly declared. The man squirted his eyes at the little bunny in front of him for whatever reason, she was the most audacious woman he had ever come across and a devilish smile curled up his lips and said. “STRIP AND PLEASURE YOURSELF WIFEY.” And Carolyn's jaws dropped. Did she make the right decision by entering into a deal with the devil?  Will she regret her actions? READ TO FIND OUT. 

Violet eyes with piercing sight. Mane of gold in pale moonlight. Skin so hard and lily white. Voice so soft, yet filled with might. He comes to me in the dark of night. Flash of teeth, smile so slight. There is no fear, no need to fight. In his embrace, I crave his bite. -S.R. Michele, or Shelly to those closest to her, is a typical 21 yr old, trying to find her way in life. She has good family, a close circle of friends. She's outgoing and friendly, and a bit reckless and impulsive sometimes. And she has certain gifts...when she touches things, she can see into the past, she can feel what was felt by others, and she can sense things before they happen. Ok, so maybe she's not so typical. An impromptu trip to New Orleans, a party on Bourbon Street, and an attempted assault in a dark alley lead her into a world she didn't know existed...but one she's not afraid of. She doesn't know if the violet-eyed stranger that comes to her rescue, and follows her home, is a friend or a foe - and honestly, she doesn't care. Once you've had a taste of the darkness, it's hard to pull away... **** This book was written in the late 1990's - early 2000's, and originally published in 2004, under the title: Diary of a Vampire by S.M. Royston. It was my first book, and it wasn't long until I came to hate it! (Please, don't look it up - I promise you, it's terrible) So here we are, years later, and I've decided to throw out my original work, and re-write it. Because I'm the author, and I can do that. The story, characters, and settings are the same - but the writing style is different, and in my opinion, much, much better. I hope you enjoy it. ****

I am about to book a room at a hotel owned by Luca Conti, a consigliere under my command, when a sharp voice suddenly cuts in from behind me. "Aspetta. That's not your price." I turn around. A woman wearing a manager's badge stands there with her arms crossed, scrutinizing me as if I am an unsightly stain she can't wait to wipe away. "We don't allow prostitution here," she says coolly. "If you're receiving clients, there will be a fine." As she speaks, she hands me a penalty notice. The charges are clearly listed on the paper. "Illegal guest reception fee: 350 thousand dollars. "Special soundproofing fee: 150 thousand dollars. "Special cleaning fee: 100 thousand dollars. "Total fee: 600 thousand dollars." Receiving clients? I have simply come straight from a Mafia cocktail party without changing clothes—that's all. What exactly does she take me for?" I lift my gaze and answer evenly, "You're mistaken. I am not that kind of person. You can contact the hotel owner, Luca Conti, and ask him who I am." A sneer flickers through Sofia Rossi's eyes. She spits to the side, full of contempt. "Still claiming you are not a puttana? Women like you come here every week. Every single one of them swears she knows him. "Our boss is the consigliere to the Russo family, the most powerful Mafia family in Seneriffe. Do you really think he needs someone cheap like you? "I suggest you pay up now, subito, before your client loses patience and drags you into the street and rapes you." I do not waste another word on her. I take out my phone and send a message directly to my secretary, Marco Bianchi. "Notify Luca. Either this manager, Sofia Rossi, disappears from this city, or he does."

At twenty-eight, I held the dubious honor of being the last unmarried socialite on New York's Upper East Side. Everyone around me was growing increasingly anxious about my single status. In my previous life, my mother arranged a matchmaking cocktail party, where I was told to choose a husband from ten handpicked elite bachelors. I bribed the event planner to place Mark West's profile at the very top—and as I had hoped, I chose him. After we married, Mark treated me with what seemed like tender affection. He even bought me an oceanfront villa in the Hamptons, making me believe I had finally found true love. But that illusion shattered the day I was nine months pregnant, just hours away from giving birth. Mark drove a scalpel straight into my abdomen—then, right in front of me, hurled our newborn onto the floor. "If you hadn't forced me into this marriage with your family's power, Sofia wouldn't have been heartbroken enough to go drinking and get drugged and assaulted. This… this is what you owe her!" He tossed the scalpel aside, then calmly let his private doctor pin down my blood-soaked body. I fought through excruciating pain for six agonizing hours, until I finally bled to death. Afterward, Mark dumped my corpse into the Hudson River. But for Sofia, he hosted a grand funeral—funded with my money, under my name—and paraded himself to the world as a grieving, devoted widower. Given a second chance at life, I refused to step foot in that cursed matchmaking event. Instead, I went straight to my mother with a demand: marry me to Robert Black—the most ruthless, cold-blooded titan of Wall Street, whose scarred face was feared by all. In the end, stripped of my financial backing, Mark's hedge fund collapsed. He became a disgraced fraudster, spat on by everyone on Wall Street.

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.