Folding Warhammer Table

To ensure fairness, my daughter said that she would draw lots to choose whose family to spend the New Year’s with every year. However, for the past nine years, she had spent the New Year’s with her in-laws. The latest draw was no different. On New Year’s Eve, my daughter gave me specific instructions. “Mom, we’re spending the New Year’s with my in-laws. We’ve made a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in town. Please help me save some money. You can just make some food at home for your dinner.” Hence, on New Year’s Eve, I ate alone while watching TV at home. When I stood up, I accidentally knocked over the raffle box. All the lots inside the box had my daughter’s handwriting. The words ‘in-laws’ were clearly written on every single one of them. For the past ten years, the lots had been fake. My daughter was willingly spending the New Year’s celebration with her in-laws, and she had never once thought of spending it with me, her biological mother, who had spent so much money on her. At the same time, I got a notification on my phone. Her mother-in-law posted something on social media. [My daughter-in-law is so lovely. She bought me so many gifts and chose to spend the New Year’s with us. It’s as if she’s our own daughter!] They smiled brightly in the video. On the table were gifts that she bought using my retirement fund. I did not sleep for the whole night. The next morning, I called the bank. “Please remove all the auto-debit accounts from my retirement account.” From then on, I would only spend my money on myself.

I was his one weakness. Don Alex, the king of New York. And I was his queen. But days before our child was due, I was thrown into the Dockside Deathmatch—a cruel game broadcast for the underground world’s entertainment. The bullets flew, hidden traps lay in wait, and my every terrified, pathetic attempt to survive was broadcast live on giant screens. Then, I heard his second-in-command on the loudspeaker. "Boss, your wife's about to pop. You sure you wanna be here?" I froze. Alex was here? A moment later, a woman’s sugary voice dripped through the speakers. "Forget that bitch. Alex told me the only thing that mattered today was being here with me. Right, honey?" It was Scarlett. The Chicago Outfit's princess. Alex's childhood sweetheart from Chicago, a woman he had always pampered and shown a distinct bias towards. He had turned down her advances for years, but he never refused her whims. Today, she was in a bad mood and insisted on watching the deathmatch, so he was here to keep her company. I screamed for Alex, begged him for help, but he was convinced I was an assassin in disguise. Because Scarlett laughed and said the game needed to be more exciting. So he pressed the button. Vicious patrol dogs hunted me. My water broke, mixing with blood on the ground. I was in agony. The game hit its climax as more dogs and gunmen closed in from all sides. Everyone was betting on who would be the next to die. Alex smiled, his voice a low, careless drawl, "I’ll bet on that filthy pregnant woman to die." He didn't know the truth until I bled out on an operating table, our child dead with me. They say the ruthless Godfather shattered. Broke completely.

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.

“You stare like you’re trying to memorize me,” she murmured quietly, without looking up. He stepped closer, voice rough. “I already have. Every inch. Every sigh. But I still feel like I’m starving for you.” He walked up behind her. His fingers trail over her collarbone, slow, reverent. She shivers. “You shouldn’t touch me like that,” she whispered. “Say stop, and I will. But don’t lie.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against the side of her neck. Her breath hitched. “This… this is dangerous.” He murmured, “You’re the most dangerous thing in my life. I’ve killed men with steadier hands than I have when I’m near you.” She turned to face him, their eyes locked. One look—everything trembled between them. “Let me ruin every thought you have of gentleness, Inayat. Let me be the fire you crave but don’t dare name.” He lifted her, gently, set her on the table beside the couch. His hands lingered on her thighs, the tension coiling like smoke in the air. He whispered, “You asked me once why I watch you like I might break. It’s because loving you has become my most violent instinct.” *** When King Agnil is betrayed and slain by his own commander, Samarth, his kingdom falls into chaos—and his daughter, Inayat, becomes the obsession of the man who murdered her father. Years later, the exiled prince, Ayman, returns to reclaim the throne. His plan? Use Samarth’s sister as a weapon of revenge. But as vengeance tangles with emotion, Ayman finds himself torn between justice and the forbidden pull of love. Can he destroy the man who stole everything—without losing the girl who might save him?

They called him Father. She called him forbidden. Ayana Marcus thought coming home for Christmas would be simple—a few weeks of family dinners, church services, and small-town nostalgia before returning to her real life in Boston. She didn't expect him. Father Nelson has been her father's best friend for two decades. A priest. A pillar of their tight-knit community. A man who's supposed to be untouchable, unshakeable, holy. But when Ayana returns after four years away—no longer the sheltered girl who left, but a woman who knows her own mind—everything changes. One look across her family's dinner table, and she sees it: the way his dark eyes linger a second too long, the tension in his jaw when she speaks, the white-knuckled grip on his glass when she laughs. Father Nelson isn't just her father's friend anymore. He's a man on the edge of breaking. One stolen kiss beneath the mistletoe shatters two decades of self-control. What begins as a single moment of weakness spirals into a secret affair that threatens to destroy everything—his priesthood, her family, their souls. He tells himself he's corrupting her. She knows she's awakening him. In the cold December nights, between whispered prayers and desperate touches, they discover that some sins taste like salvation. That the line between worship and desire is thinner than either imagined. That love—even forbidden, impossible, unholy love—can be the most sacred thing of all. But in a town where secrets don't stay buried and the church sees everything, their passion will cost them more than they ever imagined. He's twice her age. Her father's best friend. A man of God. She's everything he's denied himself for twenty years. And this December, they'll learn that some gifts are too dangerous to unwrap… But impossible to resist.

"You slept here?" George asked. "Yes, I…um,” Irene gulped, licking her lips and making a quick calculation in her mind on what to say, “I um…I was feeling hot when reading, so I decided to take a shower and might have fallen asleep after it. You just woke me up, have-have you been standing here? Um what's up, are you ready for work?” She asked while getting up to put on her nightwear. George watched her then sighed, “Irene, can I ask you something?” His eyes was burning red, and he was bitterly angry which was showing on his face “Why did you do this to me, what have I done to deserve the betrayal from you, What haven’t I done for you, what else do you need from a man i’ve not given to, why didn’t you tell me you want to be a model, why do you chose to let me know this way, do you want a divorce?” Irene and George had met in school and fallen in love, then their relationship had led into a beautiful marriage where she had been most happy until she had miscarried two pregnancies. Down and broken, George had decided to make her better by hiring a cook who would bring all her online delicacies to their dining table for her. But who would have expected that her one night of mistake would not only change her but would fill her beautiful marriage with lies? How is she to avoid her sins despite knowing it was wrong and still craving for it? How would she face her darling husband and tell him her darkest secret? But even though the sin was addictive, she had no idea what other secrets lies between, waiting to shatter her heart.

He slid a paper across the table, his eyes cold. " Sign it." She blinked, confused. "Why?" "It’s our marriage certificate." He spoke as if discussing the weather. "I’ve already signed it. Your turn." Siya froze. **Marriage?** To a man like him? Her? A whore. Pregnant. She looked up at him, pleading. "I-I can be your maid. Do anything. Just… don’t hurt my baby." Her voice trembled, careful, trying to bargain with the devil himself. But Abhimanyu’s gaze was relentless, unmoved. His tone cut like ice. "I want you to sign it right now." Her heart hammered in her chest. "But… how… why me?" She stuttered, breaking. "I don’t want to marry you." She stood, defiance shaking her body. The word **marriage** tasted like ash, reminding her of someone she loathed beyond reason. Abhimanyu leaned in, his smile devoid of warmth. "You **will** marry me. Or…" The room fell silent, thick with the unspoken threat. **The world knows** what he is capable of. "Plea.se," she whispered. Her voice was barely a breath. Siya’s legs screamed to run. But there was nowhere to go. His voice low, lethal. "Listen to me, TweetyBird. If I can save you, I can ruin you too.' His eyes darkened. "Sign it. And you’ll be mine." "Why me?" Her voice broke. ************ Siya laid on the bed on her fours, her hands tied together with a handcuff as Abhimanyu thrusted slowly from her back. He changed their position making her completely under his mercy. As the sun rose in the sky, he uncuffed her. "Scream my name!" He groaned going faster than before. But his pace didn’t slacken at all. He had turned into a needy beast, who was ruining every ounce of sanity left in Siya. *********** ***********

"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?

“Don’t moan too loud, angel.” Cassian’s voice was a husky whisper against Seraphina’s ear, his fingers moving deep inside her as her back arched helplessly against the wall. The air was thick, the danger sharper than the pleasure tearing through her body. Her husband was only a room away. “Be a good little slut for me,” Cassian murmured, lips brushing her throat, “or Lucian will hear you, and then he’ll know exactly who owns you.” Seraphina bit down on her lip, muffling the cry that threatened to break free. Her heart hammered in her chest - guilt, desire, fear - all colliding at once. It was madness, sin, everything she swore she’d never do… and yet she couldn’t stop. Not when Cassian’s touch felt like salvation. **** Seraphina thought she had married her dream man. Lucian Veyron, the dazzling billionaire who swept her into a fairytale romance, promised her forever. But after the vows, he became a stranger - cold, cruel, and determined to make her life miserable. Then the accident happened. Seraphina wakes in a private ward, nursed by gentle hands and soothed by a voice that calls her beautiful, a man who worships her body like she’s his only prayer. But he isn’t her husband. He’s Lucian’s identical twin - Cassian Veyron. Cassian is everything his brother isn’t - tender, protective, dangerously addictive. When she's stronger, they return home with Lucian confined to a wheelchair, Cassian moves into their mansion to help. Now Seraphina is forced to live under one roof with the husband who broke her… and the brother who makes her burn. Every glance across the dinner table is fire. Every secret touch in the hallway is temptation. Every stolen night feels like a sin she never wants to escape.

**This is the sequel to University of Love. It can be read as a stand alone book. ** Ember has grown up believing she had no wolf, magic or dragon. Her twin, Ash, on the other hand has had it all. Deciding it best to transfer to a human high school, she ends up meeting her mate, a hybrid just like her. Her mate brings out her dormant wolf, causing Ember's life to unravel. She thought she would be happier once she got her wolf, instead her life has only gotten more complicated. Having been decieved before, Ember has a hard time accepting the mate bond. Can she overcome her past to find happiness with her mate? What happens when a siren comes into play? Can she stay the course and accept her mate? *********************** I went to grab the microscope from the center of the table at the same time Toni did. Our hands touched and my head started to ring loudly... a terrible headache brewed. Where his hand touched mine felt like fireworks had gone off. My hairs stood on my arms, goosebumps ran through me.  I grabbed my head from all the ringing. It was so loud and strong. I squeezed at my temples, wincing at the pain.  "Mate." Toni's wolf said so silently, I almost didn't hear it.  I started getting dizzy, my head was spinning, and my vision was tunneling. Can I have a mate? I don't even have a wolf. Shouldn't he be with someone with someone that does?  "Ember?" His voice rang in my ear, but it was too late. I was falling out of my chair, passing out. I felt him catch me before I hit the floor, his touch sent fireworks through me, before the darkness took me.