Books About Obsession Mga Nobela at Kwento

No matter how much I tossed and turned and cussed, my mind wouldn’t just shut off. With a frustrated sigh, I sat up and reached for the book on my nightstand—Death’s Obsession. A dark romance. I had picked it up a few days ago but hadn’t had time to start it. I'd heard from countless people how good a read it was, considering it was just a few hundred pages. Now seemed like a good time to read for myself. I curled up under my blanket and flipped to the first page. The story pulled me in instantly. A brutal, obsessive villain. A heroine caught in his twisted love. The tension, the darkness—it was exactly the kind of escape I needed.

** Derrick sat like a king in his favorite sofa up in the Chambers as he waited for the men to come in for business. In front of his table were all sorts of wines and expensive drinks, with cigars and some hard drugs. His men were also positioned around the chamber carefully in case anything should go wrong. He watched as Sara walked into the Casino with the rest of the girls. He smiled as he watched the girls carefully. His eyes fell on the fairest one among them. Her skin looked so white and enticing. She was his taste. Though he had ordered them to entertain his clients it wouldn't be a bad idea to have a taste of her once the business is over, he thought.

“I think sometimes people don’t realize how deep they’ve fallen into it. It starts small—checking their social media, driving by their house ‘just to see.’ But over time…” He sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of experience. “It can escalate. The person might start following them or showing up unannounced, thinking they’re being romantic or that it’s a sign of how much they care. But that’s the thing about obsession—it warps your perception. What you think is love or concern might actually be… something darker.”

I state, because I will never stop loving him. “I love you too, pretty boy. I always will.” His voice is filled with so much love and there is no denying that Nikolai and I were meant for each other. He's my love, my peace, my husband. Always and Forever. ……. I can literally feel my eyes water as I come to the end of the book. It has been a roller coaster of emotions. I wouldn’t have done this without my readers' support. Thank you all for giving me this chance and I’m so glad that you guys liked my book. It is my first time trying to write a MM book and I ended up getting your love. Mind you, this is not goodbye. Book two of the series will be released soon and the couples there will be Iri

I dоn’t need іѕ tо ѕреnd аnоthеr mоmеnt оf energy оn ѕоmеоnе whо won’t treat me wеll, but I саn’t hеlр mуѕеlf. Agаіn, I wоndеr аbоut оbѕеѕѕіоn, and whу thе tеntасlеѕ rеасh іntо every аѕресt of my lіfе.

I sigh and turn to face my vacant bedside. She had to be by my side, but I had to wait. I promised to be patient, but fuck you, man. My therapist would definitely call me an obsessed son of a bitch if he saw me right now. However, he wouldn't be incorrect, and my addiction wouldn't be helped by any number of journal entries or meaningless letters. Yes, it is what it seems to be—an obsession. I'm completely, totally sucked into Via Rosalind Hawthorne. I made an attempt to avoid her, but I couldn't. My pals too failed miserably even though they believed they could accomplish the same.

“Now? I probably drink until I forget. Or until I hate him enough to stop caring.” “That doesn’t sound healthy.” I let the silence settle between us. The bar’s dim lights painted shadows on the floor, and my buzz was just strong enough to make everything blur at the edges. I leaned forward again, fingers toying with the condensation on my glass. “You ever get so obsessed with someone,” I murmured, “that it’s not even about them anymore? It’s about how they make you feel. How they pull out the ugliest parts of you, and you still keep crawling back like a sick little dog looking for scraps.”

The shrine smelled of incense and dust. Candles flickered against cracked stone walls as a cloaked woman studied the couple before her. "You Americans don't believe in these things," the seer said, her voice low, filled with mockery. "So why come to my shrine?" The woman's hand pressed against her swollen belly, her eyes filled with fear. "We came to Egypt for research. But the child in my womb… she's unstable. I can feel her slipping away. I don't want to lose her."

Absolutely not. He isn't like that. He's many things — bossy, rude, a walking thundercloud — but not unsafe. If he ever had wrong intentions, he'd had plenty of opportunities in the last four years. He could've gotten rid of me in seventeen different ways and no one would've questioned it. Still… I grabbed my pocket knife and slipped it into my pajama pocket. Just in case. 0.00001% paranoia is still paranoia, and my life hadn't exactly been a training ground for trusting people blindly.

And what had I done? Dragged half-naked women into my study like some jealous fucking idiot trying to prove a point. My chest tightened violently. This wasn’t strategy anymore, it wasn’t control, and it wasn’t even about the bond now. This was obsession. Ugly, possessive, desperate obsession, and for the first time since all of this started, I couldn’t lie to myself about it anymore.