Junior Detective Toodles Novelas e Histórias

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.

I'm staring at this man who looks exactly like my husband, overwhelmed by fear, as I received a message that read, "He's not your husband!"What's even more bizarre is that the name displayed as the sender of the text on my phone is "My Dear Husband"!Who on earth should I believe?

Celeste Cox sent me a photo on WhatsApp. I opened it to find a picture of the school heartthrob and me in an intimate embrace, the pose as suggestive as could be.

My roommates have booked booth seats at the New Year Countdown Light Show at the price of five thousand dollars per ticket. Soon, they begin urging me to transfer them my share of the payment on the group chat. I just send them a screenshot of the remaining balance in my bank account. "You guys have fun. I'm still saving up for my college tuition fees." Everyone just spams me with laughing messages instead. One of my roommates, Zane Lawson, even uploads a screenshot of our conversation to his social media feed together with a caption that says, "The first step of ascending to the next tier in social hierarchy is to stay away from party poopers like this." But as soon as 12:00 am is over, my roommates send me a photo of the light show. "It's such a shame that you aren't here." I'm still confused by the photo when I receive a phone call from the counselor, who sounds very anxious over the phone. "Did you buy tickets for your roommates to the light show? The organizers claimed that they never checked in at the entrance! Now, they've gone missing!"

When I got home, I received dozens of voice messages from a parent. They had been sent in the group chat with other parents of children in the same kindergarten class as my daughter, Lily. [Ms. Channing, didn't I tell you that my daughter is allergic to furry toys? Why did you allow that boy, Sparky, to give my daughter a hugging bear?] Ms. Channing quickly denied this. No child called Sparky had ever studied in the kindergarten. Another parent was also furious about this. [How can you claim that? My son said Sparky would always force him to play hide-and-seek. If he refuses, Sparky would grab his hair!] I quickly asked Lily what this was about. Lily took out a hugging bear from behind her back and told me about it. [Ms. Channing can't see Sparky. Only smart children can see him. Sparky is a little boy with red eyes. Every child who plays hide-and-seek with Sparky will get a hugging bear.]

It's 11:30 pm. Home alone, I decide to order some takeout. When the map shows the delivery guy is zero miles away, I receive a call from him. I pick up, only to hear unsettling silence from the other end. I hang up, annoyed. The next moment, the guy texts me, "Sorry, I'm hearing-impaired and unable to speak. I called to notify you to pick up your food as soon as possible. I can't explain things over the phone, and I apologize for that." Then comes another text. "You must've been waiting for a long time. I've left your order at your door, so please pick it up as soon as you can." Just as I prepare to open the door, I see bars of live comments—reminiscent of livestream chats—floating right before my eyes. "Don't open the door! That dude isn't a delivery guy at all! He's a murderer!" "He called you to check if you're a woman living alone!" "Seriously, why are all thriller story protagonists always so dumb? The delivery guy is obviously suspicious, yet she still wants to open the door."

Emma lost her parents at a young age. Determined to solve their mysterious death, she became a detective. Not the best at her job, yet, she decided that only death would make her give up her quest for truth. Years gone by, she received a tip that led her to raid a warehouse. In the process, she stumbled upon a truth that a different world has tried to keep hidden. Werewolves were real. At the point of almost getting killed by these vicious creatures, the unexpected happened. A man with the speed of light and the calmness of water saved her. It didn't stop there, whenever she was in danger, the man appeared. It seemed like he could hear her distress. Indeed, he could. Alpha Clyde wasn't one with a lot of free time on his hands to be playing a vigilante. He only did it for his Mate. Getting the news that she was Alpha Clyde's mate, Emma knew that everything was about to change. What she didn't know was that this change had everything to do with her past, present, and future.

I could always hear strange noises coming from the room next to me. A cacophony of people having intercourse. The noise kept me awake all night. But the strange thing was, he lives alone.

The richest man in the country, Sebastian Vance, has a ring custom-made to my exact measurements, worth billions of dollars, for the woman who will be his bride. In the first life, my stepsister, Mia Lowe, slips on the ring and marries him. Sebastian claws her face, shouting, "She's not the one!" In the second life, my other stepsister, Lorraine Lowe, loses 30 pounds before marrying him. He shoves her down the stairs anyway and says, "She's not the one either." In the third life, my stepmother, Vivian Cole, grits her teeth and slices off a piece of her own flesh just to force the ring onto her finger. Sebastian sneers and pushes her under the bathwater, holding her down until her body goes limp. By the fourth life, out of options and terrified, they finally send me. I slide the ring on, and it fits perfectly. My entire family lets out a sigh of relief. But the second Sebastian lays his eyes on me, he draws a knife and stabs me to death. "Why is it still not her? Where is she?" In the last life, he has his assistant, Owen Hayes, deliver a ring to us. All four of us insist that it won't fit. Owen shoots us a strange look. "Mr. Vance said the rightful owner of this ring is among you."

WARNING!!! FOR MATURE READERS ONLY The stories in this collection have zero filters, explicit content. Every story begins with a look. A touch. A dare. But what happens when desire refuses to be tamed? Inside these pages live more than thirty tales that strips desire down to its rawest, most honest form… the slow burn that makes you ache, the tension that makes you beg, and the release that leaves you breathless and wanting more. There is the stranger across the bar whose eyes say everything his mouth hasn't yet. The boss who breaks every professional rule because some hunger cannot be contained by a title or a corner office. The lover who knows exactly which buttons to push and pushes every single one. The forbidden touch that was never supposed to happen and now cannot be stopped. Dominant men who take exactly what they want. Bold fearless women who give as good as they get. Detective who gets blinded by desire. Hot chef who isn't just good in the kitchen, he's a beast in bed. Different couples. Different sins. One devastating collection: Tender and rough. Sweet and savage. Slow burning and wildly urgent. Because real passion does not fit into one box and neither does this collection. This is erotica for the reader who is done settling for stories that fade to black right when things get interesting STRIPTEASE does not fade to black. STRIPTEASE turns the lights all the way up. Read it alone in bed. Read it with someone who makes your pulse race. Just do not start it if you have somewhere important to be… because you will not be able to stop. Some books entertain you. STRIPTEASE will consume you. Tease. Tempt. Surrender. You were warned.