Dangerously Yours Book Novels & Stories

or was it all a dream? Find out in the sequel of MARRIED TO THE DANGEROUS DON called THE DANGEROUS DON. It's going to be way exciting and more interesting than the first part. I'll notify you all when it has been approved for leave this book in your library, or follow me. As for grammatically errors and blunders, I'll be editing the book soon so you all should wait as I'll be releasing THE DANGEROUS DON soon Don't forget to check out my other book "Mafian Hero" and for Werewolf lovers "The Goddess Bond".

’ on the front of the envelope, I could tell that this was truly written by Eros. ‘Dear Xy, if you receive this note then something big has happened. I know you have so many questions but I can assure you that not all of them have good answers and not all of them are worth the trouble. So please, give up. There are dangerous things out in the world and I am not just talking about the Night Walkers or the Erebus. And if by some chance you find a book titled ‘Book of the Damned’, do NOT touch it or even attempt to open it. There’s a reason why I took that key. Trust me. Yours, Eros.’ “I certainly hope that letter does not piss you off or anything that might result in you breaking another perso

Absolutely dangerous. "Yes, sir."

Damien looked at her like he regretted saying the words the second they left his mouth. Yet somehow couldn’t take them back. Thunder rolled outside the windows. Neither moved. Vivian should say something. Professional. Reasonable. Safe. Instead she asked softly: “What exactly are you trying to say?” Damien’s jaw tightened. For a second, she thought he might finally say it. Finally break. But Damien Blackwood was a man built entirely from restraint. And restraint won. His expression cooled slightly. “I think Roman Ellis is dangerous.” Coward. The thought came instantly.

“He isn't threatening me from a position of power. He is begging for fifty thousand dollars because the bank is coming for his car and his mother’s house. He thinks these old journals are a weapon because he still believes I am the same scared girl who lived in that house on Elm Street.” Damien sits down on the wooden stool beside me, his hands resting on his knees as he studies my face intently. “You aren't scared of what’s in those journals?” he asks softly. “There is nothing in those notebooks except the record of a woman trying very hard to save a house that was already falling apart,” I say, looking straight into his eyes. “Let him print my old sketches. Let him show the world my privat

If you'd like to open your heart to a new group of friends and lovers, and start to become a part of their stories, then I hope you'll consider purchasing the first book of the ‘Dangerous Curves’ series, which is available here on GoodNovel I'd also like to invite you to check out my website: www.marysoljamesromance.com

“Boundaries like what? Me not telling you how badly I want to bend you over this railing and show you what real desire feels like?” Sophia’s breath hitched. “Victor, stop.” “Why? Because it turns you on?” His hand grazed her hip, light but possessive. “Mark’s right there, recovering, and here you are, getting wet just from my words. Admit it.” She didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. The ache between her legs had been building since yesterday. “This is dangerous. What if he hears us?” “Then we’ll be quiet,” Victor murmured, backing her against the balcony wall. The stone was warm from the sun. “But I think you like the risk. Your nipples are hard right now. I can see them through that thin top.”

He yanked me back and held me against his bike, his torso pressing against my chest, the soft hum of the bike vibrating against my thigh as the wind hit me softly, sending chills which contrasted with the anger brewing in me. “Because, Jordan,” he drawled teasingly, like he was enjoying the game he created. “You still don't get it, do you? You don't get the fact that you're in LEA, and moving about freely on those pretty legs of yours is dangerous, Firefox. You think smiling and laughing with everyone is safe? Fuck that, Jordan,” he spat non-stop. “No one here is nice. No one likes you. Everyone has skulls in their fucking cupboard and is a wolf in sheep's clothing. Don't fall for them, Prin

HE FOUND HER The bookshop was called Paige & Prose.It was the kind of place that had no business existing in a city like this — tucked between a laundromat and a phone repair shop on a street that couldn't decide if it was charming or forgotten. The sign above the door was hand-painted. The windows were always slightly fogged. Inside it smelled like old paper and cinnamon and something warm that Rain had never been able to name but had always associated with safety.She had worked here for two years.She loved it more than almost anything.She was on her knees behind the front counter Tuesday morning, reorganizing the bottom shelf of new arrivals, when the bell above the door chimed."I'll be ri