Cozy Bedroom Nook Novels & Stories

Delfina Poletti is a twenty-four-year-old woman raised by deeply religious but loving parents. Her faith and view of the world is shattered when her cousin tangles with the wrong crowd, putting their lives into danger. Trading her life for theirs, Delfina marries a mob underboss for the Matrone family, Ercole Muraro,more than fifty years older. When he suddenly dies, Ercole’s family comes out of the woodwork demanding answers Delfina cannot provide. Furio “The CEO” Matrone, is head of the Matrone family mafia. A billionaire in his own right he is tasked by his father to make sure Delfina never reveals the truth behind her marriage contract, even after her husband’s death. Furio twice her age, has been her secret crush since the day they met. While she suffered under Ercole, it was of his godson Furio, Delfina dreamed. Ruggero Rapallino, a billionaire who worked hard to keep his businesses distant from his grandfather’s dirty dealings, is desperate. From the day Ercole Muraro introduced him to Delfina, Ruggero wanted her, secretly lusting after his grandfather’s wife. Finding out the old man left nothing to her in his will he finds himself provided the opportunity to find out more and to insert himself into her life. He wants to be her savior and to right the wrongs he knows the dead man committed. Delfina finds herself torn between a nice guy and the wickedest man she’s ever met. One can give her peace and serenity while the other makes her want to watch the world burn. What’s a girl to do when she has two hot men pounding on her bedroom door? Try them all on for size, of course.

I had stopped pretending the night Sebastian sailed past our bedroom door for the third time and didn’t look back. I had married him to keep my father’s company intact. Out of my father's desperation. The vows were for the cameras and the board, everything else was ledger entries and quiet compromises. He chased his affairs in public while I held the facade. He saw my composure and called it martyrdom. He never figured out that my calm was armor, not devotion. Then Samantha came home, twenty-three, luminous, curious, the kind of warmth that made places in me I’d kept cordoned off ache. She drifted into my life with easy laughter and careless questions. A sister-in-law, that became my obsession. We started with late-night talks, her voice soft in an empty house, her hand brushing mine while we pretended we were discussing nothing at all. Those small touches stopped being accidental, but deliberate. While Sebastian was busy elsewhere, I took his sister. Not to win anything on a balance sheet, not to score a victory, but to finally have the means to protect who I am, and who I love. Samantha was bewildered at first, shame and curiosity tangling on her face, but the way she leaned into the moments we stole told me more than words ever could. It was messy and urgent and selfish. She became my refuge and my ruin. The tenderness I had once sold to survive became a liability I was suddenly proud to bear. When the scandal around Sebastian crescendoed, I didn’t hide behind the marriage or the name. I stepped into the light, shoulder to shoulder with her, exposed and fierce. I traded anonymity for that, truth wrapped in possession, and I, Mikayla Stonefield, would have done it again.

My husband, the Don, never acknowledged me as anything more than his political bride. From the day we married, I knew there was someone else in his heart, a woman from the slums named Elena. But for the sake of my family's honor, and for that small, pathetic scrap of love I still held onto, I endured everything in silence. Until two months ago. He came home drunk and reckless and lost all control. He kicked open my bedroom door and took me like a man possessed, and the whole time, the name he breathed into my ear wasn't mine. It was hers. But that night left something behind. I was pregnant. I thought maybe this child could be the thing that finally turned us around. So I walked to his study door, pregnancy report in hand, heart full of something dangerously close to hope. That's when I heard his voice through the door, soft and tender, speaking in a tone I had never once heard him use with me. "Don't worry, Elena. Once you have the baby, I'll bring him into the family personally. He'll be the only heir I recognize. As for Jessica..." His voice turned cold and contemptuous. "She'll never have children. For the past seven years, I've had someone slip the highest dose of birth control into the warm milk she drinks every night before bed. She's nothing but a political arrangement. Why would I let her carry my bloodline?" The door opened. He stepped out and saw me standing there, frozen. He assumed I'd do what I always did, scream and cry and demand answers. He had no idea this time was different. This time, I was really leaving.

My daughter, Annabelle Turner, was diagnosed with hereditary heart disease. I spent the past five years searching for a compatible heart donor for her. Now, I finally found one. Right before Annabelle is sent into the surgery room, my husband and renowned cardiologist, Gabriel Turner, tearfully makes me a promise. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure Annabelle gets a shot at life again." Yet halfway through the surgery, Gabriel suddenly leaves in a hurry without giving any explanation. I stumble into the surgery room and see Annabelle lying on the operating table, covered in blood. Her chest is cut wide open, laid bare for all to see. Tyler Rotwell, Gabriel's assistant, stammers out, "Dr. Turner said… that Anna can still hold on a little longer, but Ms. Byron's son can't. "Dr. Turner took the heart that was meant for Anna and left…" I immediately break down and repeatedly call Gabriel's number, but Gabriel never answers a single call, not even when Anna's blood has completely dried… While settling my daughter's post-mortem affairs, I happen to see a newly posted update on Gabriel's childhood friend, Suzanne Byron's social media. "Turns out it was just a misdiagnosis," was what the caption read. "In that case, let's give this useless little thing to our good boy Oscar as a treat!" The video attached depicts Suzanne's dog Oscar tearing into the heart that was supposed to be donated to Annabelle. As I turn to look at Annabelle's cold body, the last shred of love I have for Gabriel starts crumbling apart. By the time Gabriel finally remembers Annabelle, whom he left on the operating table, only an empty bedroom and an urn containing her ashes would greet him…

When three people meet each other by chance a romance knocks them on their ass. ~Casey~ A 21 year old virgin working in one of the hottest night clubs in town. She may seem innocent but deep down she is a psycho who enjoys torturing people. She's never been touched by a man and she's killed the ones that have tried. She loves her only remaining family, her older sister Carrie. She has trust issues and a foul mouth. Can she find someone to match her crazy? ~Lincoln~ A 20 yr old street racer with a rough past. He is a bisexual, submissive with some masochistic tendencies. He's gorgeous and catches a lot of attention from both sexes. His cheating ex doesn't won't leave him alone almost borderline harassment. He jokes to hide the pain he bares every day. See how his life changes when he bumps into a little waitress. How will he react to a sexy, possessive man trying to gain his affections and encourage a little woman's psychotic tendencies? ~Malachi "Psycho" Sokolov~ He's a 23 yr old torture expert. He's well known in the underground and with the mafia families for using his pack of dogs during his interrogations. To the public he's a businessman, owning several nightclubs, a couple restaurants and some miscellaneous businesses. He is also bisexual and has had only a few lovers that can handle his bedroom habits. No one has really caught his attention until he sees a young man arguing with one of his staff and a new waitress that's as sweet as can be with little bit of fire and crazy. Find out if their love blooms or burns.

"Sign the contract. Produce an heir. And never question what happens in the dark." Cora Belmont was not supposed to be here. Her sister was the one meant to marry Roman Falcone — East Coast crime boss, untouchable, allegedly monstrous. Her family didn't give Cora a choice. They gave her a sedative. She woke up in silk sheets, with a contract on the pillow and a pen placed precisely against her lips. Sign it, or your family loses more than you. So Cora signs. She signs away her body, her autonomy, and any illusion she had about what marriage means in a world of men who treat women like ledger entries. What she doesn't sign away is her mind. And her mind begins keeping records. Because her husband is impossible. Some nights he is Roman Falcone — cold, brutal, exacting, who takes what he wants and leaves without a word. Other nights, someone comes to her bedroom who touches her like she is the only precious thing in a world of violence. Who whispers her name like a prayer. Who smells of sandalwood instead of gunsmoke. Cora tells herself she's losing her mind. She sets a camera. She watches the footage. And then a thunderstorm lights up the sky outside her window — and she sees both of them. Roman in the doorway, gun in hand, reeking of fresh blood. And Rocco Falcone — The Shadow, the ghost who was never supposed to exist — still in her bed. They are twins. They are equally dangerous. They are both completely obsessed with her. And when Cora tries to run, she discovers that one Falcone is impossible to escape. Two Falcones simply don't accept the concept of escape at all. The wrong vow was just the beginning.

As beautiful and desirable as Jenna is, she cannot be my mate. I break eye contact and turn to dismiss the crowd, determined to keep my distance from Jenna. As the crowds disperse, I begin to move towards the building, abandoned thousands of years ago by humans, a place that has become home. A shadow falls into step beside me, and I turn to regard them. It's my beta. Years older and more experienced, the beta had taught me all that I had needed to know after my father had been brutally killed in war. Even though he's my beta, I look up to him more than I'd care to admit. “The last thing I expected today was the announcement of a feast. I didn't know we had something to celebrate.” “It will be a small one,” I say, after I quickly turn. I am almost in my bedroom now, I have never been a prude, and I don't care that I am in the company of another, even though there's not a stitch of clothing on me. I move towards my wardrobe to make a selection, noting the dwindling collection in my closet. I really need to learn to shrug off my clothes before I turn, like the others do. “What shall we celebrate?” He asks, his eyes filled with curiosity. “The announcement of my mate,” I say, avoiding the wise eyes of my beta, a little afraid that if I were to make eye contact, he'd read the truth in them. “Your mate? Have you found her?” He asks, his voice tinged with excitement. “No.” I growl. I hate that I have to lie to my beta about this. But it's for the best. I am doing this for the pack. “Tonight, I, chose Violet as my mate

When last did you cum? Because this collection of sins will have you on your bed—lights dimmed low, music turned up, and fingers buried deep in your soaking wet pussy—screaming yourself hoarse as you cum over and over like a good little girl. This isn’t a book. It’s a one-way descent into every dark, forbidden craving you swore you’d never entertain. Stepbrothers who watch you bend over in short skirts. Stepdaddies who linger at your bedroom door. Priests who break every vow just to taste what they shouldn’t. And possessive, brutal men who don’t believe in sharing unless it’s you, stretched wide and ruined between them. Where desire meets defiance and surrender. Forbidden love stories with dominant men that have you on your knees, gasping, throat stuffed, body hot and begging for more. To be used, to be abused, conquered. These men don’t ask. They take. They drag you into their world of sin and make you like it. You'll cry from the pressure. Climax from the ache. Beg for their hands, their mouths, their cocks—anywhere, everywhere. They’ll whisper filth into your ear while your legs tremble. Force you to admit how wet you are, how badly you want it. And you’ll obey, because good girls don’t keep secrets. They don’t care if they’re your stepfather. Your priest. Your brother-in-laws. Your best friend’s brother. Or all of them at once. They’ll spit on your morals. Corrupt your innocence. Fuck you until your name’s forgotten and only theirs remains. So light the candles. Get the toys. Say your prayers, if you dare. Because this book doesn’t just seduce you—It owns you. And you’ll love every wicked, filthy, degrading second of it. FB: Author Ireti.

I've always been one who doesn't express many emotions. That is, until I've married Vanessa Tate. But the happy life I look forward to living doesn't come to me. Instead, all I see is Vanessa cheating on me with other men to her heart's content. When she brings another man home for the seventh time and fills the guest room with loud moans, I walk over to the door and knock on it gently. Even my tone is soft and tender. "My bedtime is between 10:00 pm to 8:00 am the next morning. As long as you keep the noise level down and don't disturb my sleep, I can pretend that this never happened." The door is opened from the inside, and Vanessa struts out. She casts me a nonchalant glance. "Got it." Her languid voice is tinged with impatience. "I'll keep it down. You should rest in your room instead of standing in the corridor in the middle of the night." The young man, who's a new boy toy of Vanessa's, leans against the bedpost. He leaves his collar open purposefully as he says to me in a taunting manner, "You really are composed. No wonder Vanessa keeps claiming that you're the most gracious husband in the whole wide world." I merely smile wanly, not bothering to give the boy toy an ounce of my attention. After returning to the master bedroom, I take the liberty to send the photo I've just taken to my mother-in-law, Evelyn Sinclair. "Mom, I already told you that Vanessa will never be able to control her urges, and yet you refuse to believe me. "We already made it clear that you'll have to pay me 100 million dollars every time she cheats on me with a man. I hope that you can stick to your end of the bargain."

“Camille, I’ll love you forever!” Jameson let out a low, agonized growl. Just as he was about to climax, his phone suddenly began to buzz. He ignored it, of course. Now was hardly the time. However, his phone lit up again. The moment he saw the text on the screen, his body froze. Camille heard him answer the call. “Hello?” In the deep silence of the night, the voice on the phone cut through the stillness, clear and unmistakable. “Jameson, did you know that Sylvia—” Jameson switched languages and cut in with a sharp command, “Keep it down. It's not a good time.” The other person switched languages too, though he was still loud. “The hospital results came in. Sylvia is in the final stages of cancer. She only has a month left! Her last wish is to become your wife. Can you grant her that before she passes?” Jameson’s expression changed immediately. “What?! Wait for me!” He ended the call and turned to Camille. “Camille, something urgent came up. I need to step out for a bit. Be good and stay home. I’ll be back after you’ve had some sleep.” Before she could respond, he rose to wash up, changed his clothes, and left without looking back. Moments later, her phone buzzed. Sylvia: [Camille, you lost. I told you—Jameson has always been mine.] Right above it was a message from three days ago: [If I tell him I have cancer, do you think Jameson will leave you and come to me? I bet he will.] Camille’s gaze slowly shifted from her phone screen to the open bedroom door. What Jameson did not know was that she had already picked up a new language. She understood every word of that call. After a long moment, a faint, bitter smile appeared on her face. “Yeah, I lost...”