Door Frame Lean Booktok Novels & Stories

Synopsis They stripped her of her name, called her Prisoner Twelve, and left her to rot in chains. For four years, Natille endured wolfsbane scars, silver shackles, and silence from the family who should have saved her. Not once did her mother visit. Not once did her sister speak her defense. And the boy she once loved—Florian—watched her exile without lifting a hand. Now the gates open. Florian waits at the end of the path. “Grandmother misses you. The Alpha King pardoned you. Come home.” But home is poison. Her sister Navy smiles through rehearsed tears, wearing the life that was once Natille’s. Her brother Ronan sneers that she only seeks pity. Her mother weeps too late. And yet her grandmother, Elder Nelda, defies them all: “You are mine. This house is your house.” Every scar on Natille’s body is proof of betrayal, but the Wilsons call her manipulative, ungrateful, a danger to their name. Even Florian—now promised to Navy—warns her not to lean on pride. But pride is all Natille has left. And when Navy plunges into the deadly Moon Pool, it’s Natille who dives into silver-laced waters to save her. In a single night, she becomes both savior and suspect, her very survival sparking what could tear the Wilsons apart.

WARNING: CONTAINS EXPLICIT SCENES. READ WITH CAUTION. MATURE CONTENT. Claire met Sebastian on her wedding day. He is the older brother of her husband-to-be. Fate took its time to play with her when she felt a very huge attraction to the man on the very same day she was bound to be someone else’s wife. From the intense look he gives her to the way his lips curved up into a smirk, she can’t help but feel foreign sensations running down her body. Sensations she’s not allowed to feel for someone who’s going to be a family soon. Sebastian knew he needs saving when he felt a very strong urge to pull the bride and lean her on the altar and take her there senselessly. With her strawberry blonde hair curled to the side of her shoulder exposing her delicately creamy-white skin, thoughts of running his tongue there invaded his mind. Damn him to hell for thinking thoughts like that to the woman his brother was about to marry. But the heavens must be in his favor when things around weren’t what he expected it to be. This time he was determined to steal her from his brother, and no one can stop him. Not even fate.

“She has twelve weeks to live. And she's running out of time to get revenge for her sister.” Alexa Lean grew up with only one person in her corner…her fraternal twin, Alice. Orphans. Outcasts. Each other's entire world. So when Alice is found dead in a campus lake, ruled as murder, Alexa doesn't mourn. She moved to Westbrook University. She enrolls as a transfer student. And she begins hunting the killer. But someone is watching. A break-in. A photograph of Alice's dead body. A whispered warning in the dark: "Stop asking questions." The deeper Alexa digs, the more she uncovers. A web of lies that has been strangling Alice since childhood. Then there's Myles Clay. Alice's boyfriend. Grieving. Gentle. Dangerous in ways neither of them expected. He should be a suspect. Instead, he becomes something worse: the only person Alexa can trust. As her body begins to fail and the killer closes in, Alexa must solve her sister's murder before the her illness solves her. But the truth is closer than she thinks. The killer has been watching her all along. And they're not done killing. Will Alexa’s sickness make her weaker or stronger in her journey to get revenge? Or will it be the only thing to build her?

Before I was wheeled into surgery, the nurse kept urging me to call a family member. At last, a delivery runner rushed into my ward, out of breath. "Hello, Ms. Wexler. Mr. Adrian Prescott placed an order for me to accompany you through surgery in Ward 907." My phone buzzed twice with a new notification. I lowered my head and saw Sophie Lane's latest post. "Caught a cold and sounded a little stuffy, and Mr. Prescott noticed right away. He insisted on taking me to the doctor and even made ginger tea for me. So spicy, but so sweet." The picture showed a tall, lean man with his shirt sleeves rolled up, pouring ginger tea from a saucepan into a thermos. His eyes were focused and gentle. I stared at the photo in a daze. I had been hospitalized for five days. My husband of five years, Adrian Prescott, had never visited once. He said he was busy with work. But once again, I saw him in Sophie Lane's social media post. That careful, gentle Adrian Prescott, the man who knew exactly how to love someone. Before I was pushed into the operating room, I submitted my resignation and made one phone call. "Mr. Powell, please print the divorce agreement."

Tommy lunges for my face and bombards me with his mouth. His hands are everywhere and I can feel his erection against my hip. Don’t get me wrong, Tommy gets me hot. I usually end up not minding the things we do, but he is just so damn aggressive. I try to push him off to at least get some air, but he slams my back against the door and pushes his body into me harder. My head slams into the door and I see stars for a second. ********************************** Ryan has had the biggest crush on Carter Moore since her first day of middle school. Now a junior in high school, she not only sees him every day, but sits next to him in Band. Suddenly, Carter asks her out. The two begin dating, but Ryan's past brutality at the hands of her ex-boyfriend, Tommy, threatens to tear them apart, especially with Tommy's sentencing hearing coming up.

In the empty villa, Celia Quinn sat motionless on the sofa. It wasn't until much later that the villa's front door swung open, and Lucas Shaw stepped inside. His gaze paused briefly on her, then his expression turned cold. "Yvonne is running a fever today. Why did you keep calling me?"

Three days ago, Damon Ashford marked me. The night he became Alpha, he sank his fangs into my neck under the moonlight. When his wolf blood mixed with mine, my wolf soul trembled violently. I thought the bond was taking root. I was too excited, too happy to tell the difference between real blood transfer and the simple sting of broken skin. This morning I went to City Hall without telling him. I wanted to pick up our certificate and frame it for our bedroom wall. I wanted to surprise him. The clerk checked the system, then looked up at me. "Whitmore, the mark on your neck is fake. There is no trace of wolf blood exchange." "Also, Ashford completed a formal registration with a woman named Clara Wellick two weeks ago." Under wolf law, a mark must be registered within seven days or it becomes invalid. I came to register, only to find I was never registered at all. I took off the scarf covering my neck and dropped it into the trash can outside City Hall. Standing on the steps, I sent my brother a message. Marcus, I’ll go with you for the closed medical research.

My mom ran a clinic her whole life, charging just five dollars for cold medicine. After I took over the clinic, I followed her teachings closely, doing my best to care for the folks in our community. However, after I charged an influencer 30 dollars for medication, I got blasted online as a scam clinic that was out to rob people blind. The entire town showed up at my door, young and old alike, demanding I return the 'overcharged' fees. I gave them exactly what they wanted and refunded every penny before shutting down the clinic for good. "There you go, just like you wanted. The clinic's closed. From now on, if you've got health concerns, feel free to drive 30 miles to the county hospital for consultation. I wish you all good health." The very next day, they were back at my door again. Only this time, they were begging me to reopen.

My wife, Wendy Sinclair, has a severe sleepwalking disorder. After she falls asleep, she always wanders out in a state of unconsciousness. The night before our wedding, she disappears without a word. I have no choice but to postpone our wedding. Only then does she walk out of her childhood friend's house next door, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Afraid I might overthink, she cries and apologizes to me. "There's no cure for my condition. From now on, just tie me up when I sleep, okay?" I feel sorry for her, so I just change the door lock to make sure she cannot go out. But in the middle of the night, I wake up and see her standing on the edge of the balcony. She climbs in through the window and goes into her childhood friend's house again. Soon, suggestive and intimate sounds come from inside. My blood runs cold. Her sleepwalking isn't an illness at all—it is out of love.

My fiancé, Luca, dragged me along to a party with his crew. We had barely walked through the door before his boys were hounding him to play "Seven Minutes in Heaven." "Angelina, babe, come join us!" Fiona, Luca’s "best friend" from back home, called out to me with a smirk. I shook my head and slipped onto a barstool, my fingers nervously tracing the rim of my glass. I watched them huddle in a circle, drawing cigar bands with names scribbled on them. Luca drew Fiona. They shared a laugh before disappearing into the storage room behind the bar. "Seven minutes! Starting... now!" someone hollered, followed by a chorus of whistles. But seven minutes came and went. The door stayed shut. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty... I finally stood up, my heart hammering against my ribs, ready to see what was going on. Just then, I heard Luca’s friends whispering in a thick Sicilian dialect. "This American guy... her head is greener than a lemon tree in Palermo and she doesn’t even know it." "I bet Luca and Fiona are having the time of their lives in there right now." "Poor Boston girl. Look at her, sitting there like a loyal little dog. Hilarious." I froze. My blood turned to ice, and the air felt too thin to breathe. Suddenly, the storage room door creaked open. Luca walked out, wiping sweat from his brow, followed closely by Fiona, who was busy smoothing out her rumpled shirt. "Whoa, how was it? Seven minutes in heaven live up to the hype?" someone teased. Luca smirked, his eyes glazed with satisfaction. "Better. I didn't want to leave."