Island Haze

SUMMARY A young lady was found unconscious by two siblings; Fleur and Miguel in Fraser Island,the countryside of Australia. They nursed her back to health and Fleur being a Nurse discovered that the young lady has Amnesia(Loss of memory). She couldn't remember a thing from the past not even her own name. They accommodated her and call her Elva,a name given by fleur. Living together,they all formed a very tight bond which made them the envy of others. Anyway.. Miguel has a disease called "Rare syndrome" it's a very rare disease that unfortunately has no cure. It deprived him of pursuing his hidden talent and dream. And..In searching for a false cure, Miguel nearly risked his life. Things actually get complicated when Miguel and Elva fell into the pit of love. You will get to know more as the story unfolds. Now the questions are; Will things ever remain the same after Elva regains her memory? What's gonna happen after Elva finds out she has a fiance?,who will do anything to get her back. And lastly will Miguel survive this terrible disease? Well.. tighten your seatbelt let's enjoy the ride to this intriguing,romance,love,adventurous and suspense filled novel titled MEANT TO BE.

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS HEAVY ADULT THEMES OF BULLYING AND MISTREATMENT + MATURE(18+) EROTIC CONTENT. READERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED. Three kingdoms. One untouchable lycan king. And a fated mate he swore to end the next time he laid eyes on her. Theodosa Fane thinks she knows what it means to suffer—That’s until she meets Xahen Ithorno. She has no idea who he is. But Xahen knows her all too well. She was his mate once, twice, and now a third time. Each encounter ended with her trying to kill him. Now, according to Xahen, she has returned for her third strike. But Xahen is no longer forgiving enough to give his mate another chance. And Theodosa has no recollection of ever meeting Xahen. She sees him as the ruthless king who ruled over the darkest island in the realm. And he sees her as a woman hellbent on putting him six feet under. To Theodosa, their paths should never have crossed. But Xahen has waited for her to resurface for a hundred years. To punish her. To maim her spirit. To break her soul. Xahen Ithorno’s third mate has come up for air, once again in the form of Theodosa Fane. And this time, he planned to execute her before she had the chance to deceive him a third time.

Crown Prince Kieran is a royal disaster—too bold, too wild, and far too scandalous for the throne. Between picking fights with the council, making offensive public remarks, and changing lovers like wardrobe changes, he’s the palace’s greatest headache. But when his reckless behavior earns him a new personal bodyguard, Kieran finds something he despises even more than politics: the cold, silent man who follows his every move. Commander Adrien Vale is everything Kieran isn't—disciplined, composed, unreadable. He has only one duty: protect the uncontrollable prince. Adrien becomes the shadow of the Prince. But beneath the tension and taunts, Adrien sees something no one else does: a grieving young man who is still not over the death of his brother. When an assassination attempt shakes the kingdom, the prince is exiled to a remote island for his safety with Adrien. Change in atmosphere cause the masks to slip and the new tension starts to brew between them. But nothing stays secret in a palace. When their lives go viral, the royal family forces Kieran into an engagement with a foreign princess to save face. Caught between duty and desire, between obedience and love, Kieran must choose: the crown, or the man who’s become his only truth.

In the island nation of Aurelia, where power is inherited and reputation is currency, Lillian Bloom lives quietly as a florist in Florentis Quarter, far removed from the elite who rule the city’s glass towers. Her world changes when she is thrust into a contract marriage with Nathaniel Crosswell, the ruthless young CEO of Aurelia’s most powerful conglomerate. Their union is meant to be nothing more than strategy. Protection. Control. But as Lillian enters high society, her presence unsettles powerful families and draws the attention of a mysterious matriarch who knows more than she should. Fragments of a forgotten past begin to surface—memories of rain, shattered glass, and parents lost in a car crash that was never an accident. Lillian is not an outsider. She is a missing heir to one of Aurelia’s wealthiest families, hidden to protect her life and erased from history. When the truth emerges, her marriage to Nathaniel becomes a battleground, pulling them into a war fought through corporate power, legal intrigue, and public perception. As enemies close in and secrets unravel, a marriage born of obligation transforms into something dangerous to an empire built on fear: love chosen freely. This sweeping billionaire romance blends mystery, legacy, and slow-burn passion in a story about reclaiming identity, redefining power, and choosing love on one’s own terms.

All of Italy knew Kayson Moretti was obsessed with me. He was the untouchable Don of the Moretti family, a man who never lost control in public, yet he broke every rule for me. He declared his love at a gathering of the most powerful mafia families in the country, then bought an entire private island just to build me a glass-domed garden when he proposed. For years, he laid the world at my feet—power, jewels, territory, status. If I wanted something, Kayson didn’t promise it. He made it mine. That was why everyone believed I was the luckiest woman in Italy. They were wrong. Because the same man who swore he would die for me was sleeping with his private secretary behind my back. Worse, he got her pregnant. The day she sent me her ultrasound, their bed photos, and every intimate secret she thought would destroy me, I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I erased every trace I had ever left in his world. My name. My accounts. My records. My past. I staged my death. I let the world believe I had died in a private jet crash.

His hand slid beneath my dress, fingers curling around my thighs with a possessive grip. "I always knew that scumbag couldn't treat you right," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly as his lips traced a slow path from my jaw to my neck. "Still can't figure out what you ever saw in him." I drew in a shaky breath as his hands moved higher, fingertips brushing the band of my panties, sending a jolt of heat through me. "Women like you are prizes, Sienna," he whispered against my lips, the words melting into my skin. My grip on his shirt tightened, knuckles white. "And prizes? They're meant to be fucking claimed. Owned." In the haze of intoxication, Alexander Grayson looked like the most beautiful thing on Earth—or perhaps he really was. "Can... can you make me forget about Ryatt?" I breathed, my voice trembling. A smirk tugged at his lips, dark and predatory, as his hand slid inside my panties, finding the heat of my wet, aching pussy. A soft moan escaped me, and I clung to him, every nerve alight."I'll make you forget about yourself, flower," with that he crushed his lips to mine. *** From the moment I met Alexander Grayson, I despised him with everything I had. But when with fate's cruel sense of humor he forced his way into my life, everything changed. He was everything I loathed—a womanizer, a violent monster, a spoiled heir with an ego larger than life itself. He should have meant nothing to me. Yet, I learned the truth the hard way: nothing about Alexander Grayson was ever simple. Alex dragged me into the hell he'd created, where he sat as the devil on the throne of darkness And the most terrifying part? I didn’t want to….escape.

The biggest mistake I had ever made was falling in love with my Alpha stepbrother, Cayden Gates. I was 12 when my mom remarried, and he was the only one in the new pack who treated me kindly. I fell for him at first sight. When I was 16, I was attacked by rogue wolves, and he fought off ten of them alone to protect me. At 18, he was poisoned by silver. He nearly died. That was when my wolf told me he was my fated mate. Without hesitation, I donated my bone marrow to save him. That night, watching him asleep with a pale face, I couldn't help but kiss the corner of his lips. He opened his eyes at that exact moment, his face flushing red. "Tessa, we're siblings. You shouldn't cross that line." From then on, he started avoiding me, like I was a mistake he couldn't afford to make. His fiancée, Rosie Lloyd, had been diagnosed with a rare blood disease, and I was the only compatible donor. For the first time, he pleaded with me. "If you're willing to save her, I'll agree to anything." But I was already weak from the marrow transplant. Giving blood again might kill me. I said no, and Rosie died in the end. He didn't shed a single tear, like nothing had happened. But at her funeral, he smashed the portrait I'd painted of him in front of everyone and said coldly, "How filthy of you to dream of being with your own brother." Later, I became a disgrace, a walking joke. Humiliation and despair swallowed me whole, and in a haze, I fell into the lake and drowned. When I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment he begs me for blood. I say yes calmly. I consider it the final debt I owe the Gates family. Cayden, from now on, we're done. There are no more ties between us.

Shortly after we said "I do," the Family sent my husband, Dario, down to the Mexican border. He told me it was a meat grinder down there—cartel territory. where guys were zipped into body bags every day. He said he had to go—to expand the territory, for the glory of the Family. He claimed it was too dangerous and that his enemies would paint a target on my back, so he wouldn't take me with him. I believed him. I stayed behind in his old, rot-infested house in New Jersey, taking care of his bitter, spiteful parents. I spent my days and nights in the Family's moldy laundromat, washing bills stained with blood. He told me he sent every dime he made down there to the widow of a brother who took a bullet for him. He asked me to be understanding. I never complained. Day after day, I pressed expensive suits in that humid laundromat, waiting for him to come home. It wasn't until the eighth year that a mobster came back drunk. When I asked about Dario, he froze, then sneered at me through a haze of alcohol. "Dario? Are you kidding? He’s been a King in Manhattan for years. He’s the youngest Underboss of the Corleone family." I stood frozen, the iron in my hand burning a hole right through a shirt. "And he got married seven years ago. Biggest cathedral in New Jersey. Half the mob was there to toast the groom..." He pulled a crumpled photo from his leather jacket. Snuggled up against my husband was a woman in a high-end couture gown—the very same "poor, widowed sister-in-law" he had told me about. The next day, I contacted a fixer who specialized in fake IDs. On the application for a one-way ticket to Europe—a ticket to vanish off the face of the earth—I filled in the fake name I had prepared long ago. He trapped me for seven years with a sham marriage. From now on, I’d be done with this damn loyalty.

I stood at the edge of Ironwood territory, boots sinking into mud as cold seeped through my coat. I hated being this close to their land. It smelled like wet dog, testosterone, and trouble. “You’re late, witch.” The voice hit low and deep, vibrating through the ground before it reached my ears. I didn’t flinch. I refused to give him that. I turned slowly, amethyst eyes narrowing as I found him at the tree line. Guilermo Santander. He stepped into the gray light, rain sliding off his broad frame. Six-foot-five of pure menace. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, silver streaks catching the gloom, and those amber eyes—burning straight through me. “I’m not late,” I said calmly, though my pulse spiked. “You wolves just don’t understand patience.” He stopped three feet away. My skin prickled as the runes along my ribs flared hot, reacting to the dense magic rolling off him. Suffocating. Intoxicating. “And you witches don’t understand territory,” Guilermo said. He didn’t sound feral. He sounded tired—like a man carrying a century of weight on deceptively young shoulders. He leaned in and sniffed near my neck. I stiffened. “You smell like sage and burnt sugar,” he murmured, voice dropping, darker now. “It’s giving me a headache.” “Then stop breathing,” I snapped. One corner of his mouth lifted, a flash of sharp canine. “Make me.” The air between us snapped tight. My magic stirred, violet haze curling from my fingertips without permission, brushing the leather of his jacket. He didn’t pull away. He leaned closer. And standing there in the freezing rain with a man who could tear my throat out, I realized two things: Elder Sibal was wrong—Guilermo wasn’t a monster to be chained. And I was in serious trouble.

"Say it," Tenz growled, yanking her hips against the hood of his blacked-out car, his hand wrapped around her throat like a necklace made of danger. Kyoline's breath shuddered as his mouth traced her jaw, his fingers sliding under the hem of her leather skirt, teasing, threatening. "Say you're mine, or I'll make you say it with your teeth clenched and your legs shaking," he hissed, dragging his tongue along her collarbone. She smirked through the haze of lust and war. "I'm not yours, Tenz... I'm just letting you play with me until someone better comes to steal me." "Someone like who?" he spat. A cold voice answered from behind the shadows. "Like me," Isaac said. And just like that... the chaos began. --- Kyoline Diego was born of blood, betrayal, and gunfire. A mafia princess with ash in her veins and a Glock in her purse. Her childhood ended the day her father-a respected Made Man-was assassinated. Left for dead, she crawled from the ruins with nothing but vengeance and two younger siblings she'd kill for. Now eighteen and jaded, Kyoline bartends for mob rats by night, runs guns for a price, and slays in gold heels by morning. Love? It's not on the agenda. Survival is. Enter Tenz Jersey-her inked-up, lie-laced mafia beau. The man who f*cks like a god and lies like a sermon. He gives her fire, chaos, and a reason to breathe. He also gives her bruises she wears like medals and promises that vanish like smoke. She tells herself he's enough. Until Isaac. Cold. Calculating. Beautiful in a way that feels like a bullet wound. He shoves her into an unmarked SUV, claims he's NYPD, feeds her lies and cannoli-then laughs while she figures out he's actually the most lethal hitman.....