Novel & Cerita Great Short Short Books

You guys have been the absolute best audience a writer could ask for. If you've been around since the beginning, you know this "short story" had a little identity crisis. It started as a quick idea, a little spark, and then it just... kept growing. Like a very polite, very well-dressed monster that just wouldn't stop eating my brain cells. And now, here we are, at the final page. This book is done! And I’m going to be honest with you about the ending, particularly that final chapter. I know some of you might be thinking, "Curvy, what gives? Where was the last-minute spice? The grand finale hookup?"

Hell yes, we are. This book is your permission slip to stop overthinking. Forget logic. Forget consequences. Forget whether the logistics of that position actually make sense on a moving motorcycle. (Spoiler: they don’t. But we’re doing it anyway.) Let go. These novellas are built for pleasure. Yours. Whether you’re here for the slow burn or the instant heat, the enemies-to-lovers bickering or the sweet surrender, there’s something inside these pages to curl your toes and leave your pulse a little faster than it was before.

11:54 11:55 11:56 11:59 12:00 Once the clock stroked 12, a shiver ran down my spine ,my body was aching for a release and he wasn’t in sight yet. I heaved a sigh,as the clock stroked 12:20 a few minutes later. The library had a few people in it but nevertheless I decided to go round placing books back where they were meant to be. I took off my jacket and started going round, placing books back, I got to the back row of the library , it didn’t have a enough light, so people hardly sat there to read, there was a book on one of the tables. It was a Novel by Ana huang famous author for the twisted series, it was Twisted hate and the open page was one the steamy hate sex scenes between Jules and

The circle was drawn in Himalayan salt and crushed pomegranate seeds, the air thick with the scent of burnt honey and Ava's desperation. She wasn't praying; she was bargaining. Her knife, usually an extension of her will, felt heavy and dull in her hand. The critics' words echoed, derivative, lacking fire, safe, carved deeper wounds than any blade. Michelin stars felt like distant, dying embers. Inspiration had deserted her like a fickle lover. So, she turned to the unconventional section of her grandmother's grimoire, the one bound in suspiciously soft, warm leather. Incubus Minor: For Creative Ignition. Price: Nights of Service.

It is a short book and therefore it will not take much of your coins . I have another book "Ugly and insecure?' Signed , you can equally take a read about it. Thanks.

Without you, the readers, I wouldn't have been able to tell their stories. Please feel free to reach out to me through my social media pages. On my Face book page as Maramartha. And on my Instaagram as maramarthaa. While keeping an eye out for Calum’s story: To Seduce My Stepbrother, you can check out my other completed stories; 1. Mr Reluctant Billionaire. 2. Mrs Reluctant Billionaire 3. Erotic Shades Of Passion: a short erotic anthology. (This one is just 42 chapters).

"Fuck it, you only live once." Callista's home was only a block away, the front apartment of a four- story walk-up. Moderately furnished, it was a single room studio with a small bathroom. It only took a few moments for Gabrielle to take it all in as Callista closed the door behind them. "You have a lovely apartment," Gabrielle said as she stepped inside. "Thanks," Callista replied as she motioned for her guest to have a seat on the couch. "It's small but it's home."

More, and more. End of Book 1

Chapter 1 – You’re Trouble, Aren’t You? It was one of those Chicago nights where the air smelled like rain and bad decisions. The streets shimmered under the streetlights, wet with the earlier drizzle, and the whole city buzzed like it knew something dirty was about to happen.

The lock clicked open, the sound as loud as a gunshot in the silent, sun-drenched office. She pulled the drawer open. There, nestled amongst expensive pens and a signed first edition, was a small, unassuming black book. It looked old, the leather worn smooth in places. It felt heavier than it should, heavy with the weight of her husband’s trust, a trust she was about to shatter into a million pieces.