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[ DARK ROMANCE 21+ ] "W-What are y-you doing here..." Her soft voice lets out in quiet shock. He enjoys that dulcet melody of her feminine voice, as he closed the door behind him, bolting it without looking away from her. Fearfully, her gaze trails behind him at the door before connecting with his again. She grows rapidly angered. "Get out of my room!!! How dare you?! Get out!!!" He suppresses the urge to chuckle at what he perceived as her adorable fury. Instead, he manages to grasp it with a deviant smirk. “Not unless I get what I want..doll face." "I'll scream!" She bellows, her hands clutching at the duvet around her. He strides forward and grabs the smartphone sitting atop the dresser in front of her bed. He easily slips it over the top of a high shelf, far from her petite reach. Then he turns to her and replies smoothly with a hint of derisiveness. "Scream all you like, princess...I've given the entire staff a day off.." She stares at him with the briefest of puzzled looks, and he finds her incredibly adorable in her contemplation. He felt his arousal increase and the next words fell huskily out of his mouth. "It's only you and I..ALONE.." Her innocent tourmaline eyes lock with his fervent sapphire ones. "W-What d-do you want ?" Her frightened voice barely above a whisper. His eyes rove over her figure in a degradingly suggestive manner. He provides a crude answer. "Why, of course to fūck you senseless, kitten." her face drains of color as she stares at him in repleted horror. He was unfazed by her stiffened posture and frightened expression. All he could do by his eyes was drink in her natural beauty like a man who'd gone days without water.

At our Thanksgiving family dinner, my stepbrother brought his beautiful girlfriend to meet the family for the first time. She held up her wine glass and flashed me a malicious smirk. “I heard you had a first love you can’t forget, Summer.” I kept my head low and focused on my food, unsure how to respond. After all, my first love… was her boyfriend. When I was seventeen, my stepbrother Ethan Cole tricked me into crossing the line we should never have crossed, while our parents were blissfully unaware. Even right now, under the table, his foot was rubbing mine sensually. He did not bother holding back. On the table, he held his girlfriend’s hand tenderly as he mocked me with a smirk, “You’re twenty-seven, sis. Your shelf life is running out, and you’re such a plain Jane. Who would ever want you?” I stood up abruptly and looked at him, my tone calm and resolute. “I’m married, Ethan.”

It's been five years now since Claire escaped from the man she had had a one night stand with at the bar where she worked as a bar maid. By God! the man was wonderfully made, he was the man in every girl's wet dreams. With his dark and Mysterious looks, he was still so appealing. She had decided to visit him that night to tell him she had gotten pregnant for him, But then, she got the shock of her life. Her mysterious Lover was a freaking Werewolf!!! Ever since she ran away that night, she had kept running, with his child growing in her stomach. And now she has settled down in this city, far away from Jake. Working at another bar, that she now owned. The door bell rang. "We are closed" Claire said, her back facing the door, she was arranging washed glasses and bottles of drinks on the shelf behind the bar. "I noticed" Claire froze!. She whirled around to face the man still standing by the door. "Christ!" She screamed dropping a rum bottle she was holding, which shattered loudly as it landed on the hard floor. " No darling, it's Jake" He smiled. All she could think about at the moment was "Nate" her son...Well technically their son! Will Claire be able to accept the supernatural nature of her ex-lover? And let him into her life and the life of their son..who God knows needed his father. Jake on the other hand is being hunted by a ruthless werewolf hunter who had murdered his pack...and now is after him, the Alpha. Will he be able to protect himself and the woman he loves? And what happens when he finds out he has a son, who turned out to an hybrid!?

Lucia had never believed in rebirth. She had read about it a few times in books tucked away on her shelf, but she never imagined it could be real. Yet, here she was—reborn. This time, she swore she wouldn’t let kindness be her downfall. She would make them pay. Her so-called best friend and husband had used her, drained her of everything, and left her with nothing. They manipulated her, deceived her, and when they had no more use for her, they poisoned her—leaving her to suffer in agony for over a year. What a vile couple. On the night of her death—her own birthday—they stood before her, laughing as they confessed their betrayal. They had taken everything from her, and now, they wanted her to know the full extent of their cruelty. Her husband and best friend, her supposed confidants, had been lovers all along. Worse, they had killed her true mate. Lucia had wept until there were no more tears left to shed. Too weak to fight, too broken to scream, she watched as they reveled in their wickedness, even making out right in front of her as she lay dying. That night, amidst a raging storm, Lucia took her last breath. But when she opened her eyes again, morning light streamed through the window. "Is this heaven?" she whispered, confused. A familiar voice answered. "Lucia, you’re awake! Let me get the doctor!" Brittany exclaimed before rushing out of the room. In that instant, Lucia knew the truth. She had been reborn. And this time, she would make them pay—for everything they did to her and her family.

Serene’s heart raced as she stood in Nicholas’s dimly lit study, the scent of leather and whiskey heavy in the air. She’d been dusting the bookshelves when he entered, his presence filling the room like a storm. Now, he stood inches away, his black suit hugging his broad shoulders, his dark mullet framing a gaze that burned with intent. “You missed a spot,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, pointing to a shelf she’d already cleaned. Her cheeks flushed as she turned, the hem of her maid uniform riding up her thighs. “I-I’ll get it, Mr. Volkov,” she stammered, reaching up, but his hand caught her wrist, firm yet gentle. “No,” he said, stepping closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Let me show you.” His fingers slid down her arm, leaving a trail of heat, before guiding her hand to the shelf. His chest pressed against her back, and she gasped at the hardness of his body, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable. “You’re trembling, little maid,” he whispered, his lips brushing her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “Do I scare you… or do I excite you?” Her breath hitched as his free hand trailed up her thigh, slipping beneath the lace of her uniform. “Mr. Volkov…” she whimpered, but her protest melted into a moan as his fingers found her, teasing her through the thin fabric of her panties. “ Nicholas,” he corrected, his voice rough with desire, his touch growing bolder, circling her most sensitive spot until her knees buckled. “Say it,” he demanded, nipping her earlobe. “N-Nicholas,” she gasped, her body arching into him, surrendering to the fire he’d ignited. In that moment, the billionaire and his naive maid were bound by a hunger neither could deny.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

Callie Ruiz never imagined she’d still be stuck at BuyMore after ten years—managing chaos, covering shifts, and shelving her dreams just to keep her family going. Then Eli shows up: clumsy, clueless, and clearly not cut out for retail. She figures he won’t last a week. What she doesn’t know? Eli is actually a billionaire tech CEO undercover, trying to fix the mess he made when he bought the struggling chain. As they work side by side through blackout shifts, awkward shelf restocks, and breakroom drama, something real begins to spark between them. But when Eli’s true identity is exposed in front of the whole store, Callie feels betrayed—and heartbroken.