Doesn't Mean

⚠️ Contains emotionally intense and mature themes. (R 18+) "Look at me, Hazel." Diego approached, his breath burning Hazel's ear. "I only ask for one thing... beg me." Hazel shook her head, her knees trembling. "No... you can't—" Diego smiled faintly, darkly, full of triumph. "If you beg... I will never let you go." Hazel Anne Quinn, 24 years old — a small-time journalist who no one takes seriously. Living a mediocre life, abandoned since birth, and writing erotica as a ghostwriter at night to survive. No one ever wanted Hazel... until Diego Ronan Blake appeared. A senior actor and tycoon at 34, a man who makes the world bow down and causes women to fight to be his. But Diego becomes obsessed with the one woman who avoids him — Hazel's grayish-green eyes, filled with fear yet a hint of defiance, make Diego lose control. For Diego, Hazel isn't a fantasy — she is a necessity. He wants Hazel as his, body and soul, and this obsession drives him to tear down the walls that have protected Hazel, only to rebuild them with himself at the center. Hazel can be afraid, can hate, can resist... but as long as she doesn't beg, Diego will never stop. Because once Hazel gives in — even just once — Diego will never let her go.

My mate is the bravest patrol chief of the Sundara Pack. When the rogue straps a bomb laced with wolfsbane to me, I try to reach him through our mind-link. Once, twice... He blocks me 99 times. The rogue forces me to call for help, and when Aiden Campbell finally answers, his first words come blazing with anger. "Lina Rutherford! You're risking your life over jealousy again? Kate's pet snow wolf has been stuck in a tree for three days! "She loves that wolf like her own child—if I'm late to save it, that's on you! You'll be a murderer!" I laugh so hard that tears stream down my face. That so-called "trapped" snow wolf? It's simply climbed onto a slanted pine tree in the yard so it can lazily sunbathe on the branches. No one trapped it—it just doesn't feel like coming down. "Thank you, Aiden. You're amazing!" There comes a soft, delicate voice through the phone. It's Kate Summers—Aiden's late brother's widow and also his childhood sweetheart. The bomb's countdown ticks down to three minutes. With a calm heart, I send my final message. "In the name of the Moon Goddess, I sever our mate bond." And then, I cut the mind-link.

Three years after Alpha King Damien Caldwell marks me, Drake Whitaker finally remembers I exist. Turns out he really believes I'll "wait for him forever." Twenty black SUVs clog the private road into Ridgefield pack territory, trunks crammed with moonstone jewelry, old talismans, and rare herbs. Drake steps out of the tricked-out Hummer, wearing a smug smile and clutching a stack of parchment contracts. "Aria," he calls up, like some medieval knight, "I told you once the Silvermoon Coalition was official and Kenneth's supply lines were stable, I'd bring you to my pack. "The High Council finalized five packs yesterday. I came first thing this morning to show you I mean it." I sit in the upstairs study, watching a video Damien just sent of him playing with our son, then glance through the blinds at the ridiculous scene unfolding below. Drake lifts his face toward the second floor. "I know you're upset, but Kenneth controls the biggest timber in the Eastvale region. I had to mark Isabella. It was politics. You get that. Feelings don't need a mark anyway. I'll treat you better than a Luna." His words made my skin crawl. I pressed the intercom button on the desk. "Clear the drive. Tell security someone's trespassing." What a day! I've just taken my son to the medical center for his one-month checkup. Damien sends me back to Ridgefield pack for a week to rest. Instead, I get this mess on my doorstep.

On our sixth wedding anniversary, my cheeks burn as I dodge my husband, Ethan Grant, leaning in for a hungry kiss. I push him toward the nightstand for a rubber. What he doesn't know is that I've tucked a surprise in there, a positive pregnancy test. I can already see it, the way his whole face will light up the second he finds it. But the moment his hand goes for the drawer, his phone goes off. His best friend, Henry Miller, comes on the line in Danish. "Mr. Grant, how was last night? That new love couch our company rolled out is treating you okay?" Ethan lets out a low laugh and answers in Danish, "The massage feature's great. Saves me from having to rub Sandy's back myself." He still has me pulled tight against him, but his eyes look straight through me, like he's seeing someone else. "This stays between us. If my wife ever finds out I slept with her sister, I'm done." It feels like someone just put a knife through my chest. What they don't know is that I minored in Danish in college, so I catch every single word. I force myself to stay calm, but the arms I have looped around Ethan's neck won't stop shaking. At that moment, I stop hesitating and decide I'll take the offer from that international research project. Three days from now, I'll be gone from Ethan's world for good.

XVIIIème siècle, à Puerto Morelos,Mexique. Trahi par toute sa famille et la fille qu’il aimait en épousant son demi-frère,Mathis s'est vu forcé à aller travailler pour l’homme le plus cruel de toute la ville,selon la rumeur,un célèbre homme d'affaires connu sous le surnom de Negro Diablo. L’amour pourra t-il fleurir entre ces deux-là ? surtout à une époque où les relations entre deux hommes est considéré comme un péché mortel et qu’avoir la peau noir est pire qu’être un animal ? Petit résumé plus détaillé de l’histoire ; Plonger dans l’histoire d’amour quasiment interdit entre Mathis, 22 ans, un garçon issu de la noblesse Mexicaine et Diego, un homme déjà dans la trentaine, noir, qui à été adopter par un couple Méxicain. Deux univers séparent les deux hommes, car l’un est considéré comme faisant partie de l’élite de la société de cette époque, pendant que l'autre est considéré comme un bâtard, descendant d’esclave qui a eu la chance d’être sauvé par un couple respectable. L’un cache son homosexualtité pour ne pas choqué un peu plus la société très conservatrice dans laquelle il se trouve, tandis que l’autre qui croyait toute sa vie aimé une femme, découvre petit à petit à peit qu’il s’était peut-être trompé. Mais derrière ce de réalité se cache beaucoup plus de chose que l’on pourrait imaginer et vous découvrirez que les apparences peuvent être souvent trompeuse, car la réalité dépasse toujours notre imagination

BLURB I think a lot people don’t understand what romance is. Daniel Prescott is not an exemption, the ruthless billionaire only cares about himself and no other family but when it was time for him to get married. He filled a contract marriage to the Rose Hildegard, a woman that believe in love and flowers Rose who had to compel just for the sake of her sick grandfather’s last wish agreed and signed the papers until their first night and he candidly warned her not to even hope for a marital union. She was trapped in an only sexual relationship even though she owned an empire. What’s left for her? What is left for the ruthless billionaire when he starts to fall in love but she’s already falling for his best friend?.

It was the day of our marriage. We were supposed to meet up at the City Hall, but my fiancee stood me up. I waited for her the whole day, and the only answer I got was a picture from her assistant. My girlfriend sat astride on his lap, and her arms were wrapped around his neck while they were locked in a deep kiss. "Sorry, Mr. Terraton. Sophie insisted on comforting me. You don't mind, do you?" I demanded answers from my girlfriend, but that only made her impatient. "He donated his blood to me. Yeah, I was with him, but so what? Man up, will you?" That killed any love I had for her, and I called my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend's sister. "Hey, Sylvie. Yeah, about your proposal. So will you marry me?"

Mariés depuis trois ans, son mari ne l'avait jamais touchée. Et pourtant, en pleine nuit, il s'était soulagé devant une photo de sa sœur. C'est en regardant par hasard son téléphone que Léna Fontaine avait compris : s'il l'avait épousée, ce n'était que pour se venger. Parce qu'elle était la véritable fille biologique, celle qui avait arraché à sa sœur sa place de l'héritière. Déçue et brisée, Léna était retournée vivre auprès de ses parents adoptifs. Mais elle ne s'était pas attendue à ce que Mathieu Delaunay devienne fou, la cherchant partout, désespérément.

My boyfriend has always doted on me. However, after learning that I can't go to work at the bank after falling and injuring myself, he snaps at me. "Why didn't you tell me you switched shifts with someone else? That was a cheap move!" I don't refute him. Instead, I pull out a hospitalization record as I watch the bank descend into chaos. In my past life, I attended to a couple who wanted to deposit five million dollars into their account. Their child had been diagnosed with a rare illness. They'd gotten the money by selling their organs and mortgaging the home—it was to save their child's life and pay for the surgery the following day. However, the money was stolen the following day. I helped them check where the money was withdrawn, but the surveillance footage showed I was the one who did it. My best friend wept when the couple questioned me. "You shouldn't have stolen the money someone needed to save a life, no matter how materialistic and covetous you are!" My boyfriend hurried over and said, "I wondered why you suddenly had money to buy a car—you stole it! You're heartless!" The child died after failing to receive treatment in time, and the couple stabbed me to death on the streets out of devastation. When I open my eyes again, I think injuring myself will help me escape this. To my surprise, the surveillance cameras once again capture me stealing the money.

During the third year of our marriage, my husband's ex—whom he dated for eight years—suddenly shares a photo of a ten-million-dollar marital home on her social media. It's captioned, "I've finally gotten a mansion! Who's the best at dating? I am!" I gape at the image—I see my husband swiping his card at the real estate sales office in a corner of the photo. I leave a question mark in the comments. In the next second, my husband calls me to tell me off. "I'm just making good on a promise I made her when we were dating—to buy her a marital home. Why did you have to go insult her like that? Are you evil enough to turn me into a man who goes back on his word?" That evening, his ex shares another photo of a million-dollar renovation bill. I know it's a gift from my husband to appease her, but I don't care anymore…