Enchanting Table

☆☆☆☆ "So, Tyson, do you just lurk around waiting to interrupt people or is that a special service you offer?" He leaned against the table, his gaze locking with mine. "I'd say it's a special service, but only for certain people. I wouldn't want you to think I'm not paying enough attention to you, love." "Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow, challenging him, "Because I was under the impression you enjoyed making my life difficult, not keeping an eye on it." He chuckled, crossing his arms. "Well, it seems like you could use the excitement." "Oh, trust me, my life's exciting enough without you stirring up trouble." I scoffed, but the corners of my mouth twitched upwards in a reluctant smile. "But, perhaps I'm the kind of trouble you need." ☆☆☆☆ Ashley, the daughter of a millionaire, moves to a new city and hopes for a fresh start. With her sharp wit, she often finds herself at the center of school drama, not by choice, but by circumstances. Intent on maintaining a low profile at her new campus, her plan quickly falls apart when she mistakenly parks her bike in a reserved spot. Tyson, the school's notorious bad boy, is not just a troublemaker, but he's the youngest gang leader to be a part of a powerful mafia, feared by many but understood by few. Despite his fearsome reputation in the streets while other leaders might see him as a mere boy, Tyson is fiercely loyal to his inner circle, showing a side of him that few ever see. What will happen when their paths cross? ☆☆☆☆ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 #1 𝐨𝐟, 𝐇𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬. "𝑫𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎." ☆☆☆☆

She was sent to kill. Instead, she might be the one destined to end it all. Lea, a top-tier assassin for the secretive High Table, has never missed a mark—until now. What was supposed to be a routine mission turns into a long-term “quest” in the quiet town of Mystique Gore, assisting a cold, commanding man in a mansion older than memory. Strange? Yes. Dangerous? Definitely. But what’s worse? The mission wasn’t for a target... it was for *her*. Marked by a power she doesn’t understand and haunted by dreams that aren’t hers, Lea finds herself entangled in a world she never believed existed—one ruled by vampires, witches, and werewolves hiding in plain sight. And at the center of it all is Ivan, the enigmatic master of the house who knows more than he says... and watches her like she’s already his. As her assassin instincts clash with ancient prophecies, forbidden truths, and a mark that binds her fate to something much bigger, Lea must uncover why the High Table sent her here—and why the supernatural world is afraid of *her*. They say she’s the beginning. They say she’s the end. They say she must die to keep the peace. But Lea doesn’t take orders. She gives them.

Aiah Villegas is your typical social butterfly. Sunod sa luho, hindi alintana ng beinte ocho anyos na dalaga ang kahit anong negative notion patungkol sa kanya. Party. Men. She loved them all specifically the attention. Not until her grandfather meddle her affairs and wedded her to a certain Rodrigo Dela Costa. Just like the name, literal na lahat dito mula pananalita at kilos ay pangmatanda. And unlike all men circling around her, he doesn't give a damn about her mere existence. Isang pabor na di niya kayang tanggihan. That's how Rodrigo viewed the existence of the pampered princess of the Villegas on his private space. Nothing more. Nothing less. But why does her cheap antics get inside his nerves? At tila ba hinahamon nito ang katatagan niya bilang lalaki... "I guarantee, you'll fall for me, My dear husband." Aiah leaned over his table, deliberately showing the generous view of her cleavage. There's a playful smirk etched on her lips. "Wala pang lalaking tumanggi sa akin." "Then I'll be the first," tugon ni Rodrigo, unbothered, drift his focus back on the piles of papers. "Try harder, My Aiah, then maybe there's a slim chance that I'll fall for you."

"Help me tighten this?" Her voice trembles as she turns her bare back to the doorway. Calloused fingers brush her spine – but it’s not her stepmother. It’s Asher Voss, SU’s star quarterback and her new stepbrother, smirking in the mirror， "Next time you mistake me for Mom..." His breath scorches her ear. "...I’ll leave a real mark." To survive the sweltering New York summer before college, Wendy Wu makes a deal with Asher: Act like strangers once school starts. He’ll remain the untouchable quarterback; she’ll be just another exchange student. No eye contact. No acknowledgement. Ever. But when her father’s long hauls and her stepmother’s busy schedule force Asher into babysitting duty, the lines blur: In the kitchen, he catches her weeping over a shelter documentary and lifts her against his sweat-drenched chest. Garage doors rattle open – his grip tightens: "Hold on. Unless you want them to see you like this." At a party, her friend spots a cherry hair tie on his wrist before he drags her into a dark hallway: "You didn’t want to see me?" His whiskey-laced kiss brands her lips. "Yet your eyes undressed me all night." In a restaurant, a rival girl glares through the window. He traps Wendy’s thigh under the table， "Call me ‘brother’ and I’ll save you."  Their secret collapses. Wendy ends it, and he freezes her out in public， "Do I know you?" Until a rain-lashed night when Ahser, drenched and desperate, pins her to the wall， "Don’t tell me you do not regret the breakup" His teeth find her collarbone. "I have to admit it-- I miss you." Can a love forged in stolen touches survive the spotlight? Or will their step-sibling bond shatter them both?

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.

Just for brushing against the hem of Eva Lawson, the heiress’s custom couture gown, Lucy Quinn's mother had her limbs broken, then thrown into the sea to die. The day Lucy dragged the arrogant heiress to court she thought that justice might finally be served. Eva was declared not guilty. Why? Because the defense attorney representing her was none other than Wyatt Grant, founder of the most untouchable law firm in River City, and Lucy Quinn’s husband. When the trial ended, the elegant and aloof man stepped down from the defense table and placed an apology letter in front of Lucy. "Lulu, sign it. You don’t want to be sued for defamation and end up in prison, do you?" His tone was calm and coaxing, but behind the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze was cold as ice. Lucy, tears stubbornly clinging to her eyes, looked up at him and said with a trembling voice, "Why, Wyatt, Why?"