Kipo Oak Novels & Stories

Suffering abuse from her father Alpha Landre, Bianca was forced to flee from the pack with her mother, Chloe. In order to make life more bearable for her and her daughter, Chloe remarried Alpha Ethan, a rival pack of her ex mate. Finding a good and new family, Bianca was sent to an elite werewolf academy, Moon Lake Academy where she hid her identity in order to protect her mother. However, she crossed paths with quadruplets, Oak, Rowan, Ash and Maple, her stepbrothers. But she didn't expect them to either bully her along with other students or stay quiet when she was being bullied. Unexpectedly, on her 18th birthday, she found out that her stepbrothers who had always bullied her turned out to be her mates! Their attitudes changed drastically and they began to all vie for Bianca's attention. However, Bianca wouldn't agree to their demands and would even reject them, or would she?

Ten years ago, Mara's older brother disappeared just outside of their home town. With no clues, everyone believed that he'd just run off. But Mara knew better. She vowed to continue the search. Despite being called crazy, she believed the local legend about a portal to another world. The Old Oak Archway. Now, after all these years, Mara has found a way through.What she didn't expect was to find on the other side was her brother living happily with the Golden Draygons.Suddenly, Mara is claimed by the King and the portal is closed. She is stuck on a planet filled with dragons and thrust into a struggle for power everywhere she turns.But, Tohr is determined to win her hand and her heart to keep her with him. Mara quickly learns that when a Draygon makes up his mind, he will stop at nothing to make it happen..*Adults Only* *Explicit Scenes* *Extreme Violence* *Hot Dragon Shifters*The Book of Mara is created by Leann Lane, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.”

On the night of the Benedetto family's Harvest Festival, my Mafia husband, Salvatore, told me to bring our son, Giuseppe, to the family gathering. He said his madre had finally accepted us into the Benedetto bloodline. I was trembling with excitement in our little cottage as I dressed Giuseppe in his finest little suit. He had carved a single wooden rose by hand, a project he'd saved for over five years. He said he would present it to his grandmother at the celebration, a plea for her to accept our place in the family. But the moment we stepped into the stone manor, I saw Carmela. Salvatore had her pinned against an oak barrel in a deep, searing kiss. In the moonlight, her hand was undoing his tie. In front of everyone, Salvatore smiled and gently pushed her away. He walked toward the family members gathered in a semicircle and raised a crystal glass. "Tonight, in addition to celebrating the harvest, I have an important announcement." "I would like to introduce you all to the woman I have married in the eyes of God and the Church." "Miss Carmela Torrino." Before I could even process his words, Giuseppe tore his hand from mine and rushed forward. "Papa, what are you saying?" "Isn't my mother your wife?"

My father found me too rebellious, so he gave me to Marco, tasking him with making a lady out of me. To the outside world, Macro was the ruthless boss to a Mafia empire, but to me, he was just a man with a perpetually stern face. I tried everything to defy him. I smashed his car. Then I swapped his PPT for the lowbrow stand-up he hated most. And he opened it during a company meeting. Yet, every rebellion ended the same. He cornered me, his massive frame dominating mine on the silk sheets of his king-sized bed, the polished oak of his desk, or the leather confines of the car's backseat. His hot skin against mine, his fingers tracing fire along my curves. He moved with a primal hunger that left me breathless. My body arched in unwilling ecstasy, in a dance of punishing pleasure, until my fight dissolved into moans, my will shattered under his relentless claim. I fell for him hard, convinced this was love, and he was the beacon of my dark world. But the truth shattered me: it was all a calculated game to tame me, to stop my war with my sister Karen. My guiding light went out, or maybe it never existed at all. So I became a good girl. I stopped fighting back. He thought he had me tamed, chained to his will. But in the end, I slipped free, leaving him alone with his shattered heart.

The first time Rafael betrayed me, he threw the woman from his club at my feet. His eyes were bloodshot as he told me to take my pick. My love for him was a sickness, so I forgave the transgression. For the second betrayal, I had the dancer sent out of New York, warning her never to set foot on the East Coast again. On the night of our engagement party, sealing the union of our two families, Rafael pinned me against the walnut desk in the study. His eyes burned with rage as he demanded: "Where is Nina? She's carrying a Mancini heir." "It was a mistake. You can take your anger out on me. Nina is naive; she doesn't deserve this. I'm begging you, just let the child be born safely. I swear I'll never see her again." "You're afraid of childbirth. This gives you an heir without the risk." "Listen, Alessia. You are the future Donna of the Mancini family. When that child is born, it will know only you as its mother. I swear on my life." He forced me backward until shards from the vase I'd knocked over cut into my skin, staining my silk dress with blood. I looked at him and smiled, then gave him the address of a safe house in Brooklyn. He slammed the heavy oak door behind him. Shaking, I pulled out my encrypted phone. "You were right about him. Is your offer still on the table?"

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

In the Valenti Family, you're born with a chip. It's fused into the bio-watch on your wrist, its digital face counting down every second you have left to live. Everyone could see the numbers ticking down on my twin sister's watch. And on mine. They all knew she would die on our 18th birthday. So Vivian became the untouchable princess of our brutal world. Every diamond-stitched gown was hers. The rarest jewels were hers. Even our father's last shred of humanity was hers. That single sliver of warmth he showed only after his gun was holstered. I used to pity her. Her time was running out. But God, I envied her. She had everything I never did: our parents' love. Then, the night of her 18th birthday party. My parents worried I'd make a scene. That I'd piss off the Don of an allied Family. So they locked me in the cellar. Damp. Cold. While a deadly fever burned through me. I pounded on the heavy oak door, my voice cracking. "Mamma, please! Let me out! I'm burning up. My head is splitting open…" Outside, my mother's voice was a steel trap. "Enough, Sienna! Today is your sister’s 18th birthday. Her last day alive! Stop the theatrics! Can't you suffer in silence for the Family's honor?" "But I'm really sick..." Her footsteps clicked away, fading into nothing. Then the darkness swallowed me whole. And on my wrist, the bio-watch was flashing a critical alert. CRITICAL ALERT: Vital signs mismatch. Paired chip data incompatible. Please verify user.

Ember accepted her lot in life. On the run, she only wishes to find out the truth behind her dreams and solve the memory of her past. Keegan has only cared about protecting his pack, but when he sees the beauty dancing on stage and the flicker of flames in her eyes his body screams, Mate! Can Keegan tame the flames of Ember and together solve the mystery of her missing past? Or will they all burn together? Excerpt: “This is the reason I’m always tired,” I think to myself. Twenty-four years of coming here and still not a single clue, but every time I close my eyes, I return to this place. I know my surroundings perfectly. Oddly the place is beautiful to the eyes. The old house sat among flowers growing around all sides. The aroma of honeysuckle and jasmine fill my lungs filling me with a moment's peace. I’m sitting in my usual spot. Gripping the ropes of a swing in the front yard held by a large oak tree. Waiting I begin pushing my legs back and forth sending me in motion. I know something is about to happen. It happens every night. The house moves in front of my eyes. I see the shadows coming, but I don’t stop swinging. They are black as night but I can see smiles within the shadow grinning bright. “What is this place!” I cry, fed up with this nightly repetition, but no sound emerges. A noise can be heard from the back of the house. One of the shadows turns toward it. I jump down to follow only to have the other shadow hold me back. “Don’t go. Not yet. Listen to me!”

Legends of old had been passed throughout the Kingdom of Shaldan. That the great kings of the past, the Alpha of the East had lost his mind and ruined the Kingdom. The Queen, the Luna named Galatea had been murdered by her own mate. Songs about the legend had been made. "Don't go to the forest. Don't go to the east. Don't go near the forest, or you'll face the beast." The villagers knew the song by heart and they knew the reason, though the monsters were only talked about in whispers. In a lullaby. The Eastern Forest was dangerous for it had been neglected, forgotten. The forest was dark. Even the lights from the moon, the stars and thousands of fireflies were not enough to illuminate the sky. Everyone knew that. For how could they forget. A stone had been carved for the purpose of everyone's protection. Sometimes the village young boys and girls dared each other to step to the edge of the meadow, just to see, but none of them actually went beyond the protective bushes at the edge. "Phil, wait for me!" Accashia screamed. Accashia had always felt that her family neglected her. Shunned her. Sometimes her older siblings would even chase her through the meadow for fun. It was easier to catch her, which meant it was easier to beat her up and tie her to the big oak tree. The only difference is when they left her that night and came back during daybreak, Accashia was gone. "Find her! Mom's going to kill us if she finds out!” Little did they know that she was picked up by someone who's silver hair glows under the moonlight. A Survivor from the East. A young man named Calleb. WARNING! CONTAINS BEASTIALITY

We had agreed to spend the New Year with our own families, but at the last minute, my husband, Drake Murrell, changed his mind and insisted I go back with him this year. I agreed, planning to take this opportunity to finally tell him the truth about who I really was. When we first got married, my parents told me to keep a low profile so that Drake, who came from a single-parent household, wouldn’t feel pressured. So I hid the fact that I was the daughter of the richest family in the capital, the Thorntons. When we returned to his hometown, I specifically bought my mother-in-law, Diana Murrell, a pair of gold bangles. She accepted them with a beaming smile, praising me again and again for being such a thoughtful daughter-in-law. However, the next day, as I passed by the old oak tree at the edge of Willow Creek, I overheard her talking about me with a group of people. "Oh, you have no idea. My daughter-in-law is absolutely ridiculous!" My hand froze midair, still holding my phone, as I instinctively ducked behind a haystack. I heard her continue loudly, "She bought me a pair of gold bangles this year. The moment I touched them, I knew they were fake! I’m telling you, they’re probably those cheap online knockoffs, like the kind that cost next to nothing and start fading the moment you wear them!" I was stunned with anger. She called pure gold fake? Looks like the million-dollar New Year gift I had prepared for her wasn’t necessary anymore.