L Profile Picture Novels & Stories

A corset changed everything. Damian Steele didn’t expect that. Nicole was his assistant, the definition of off-limits. But one moment she’s fine, and then the next he’s cutting a wretched corset off her body. He’s ached for her for years, but he can’t ignore it any longer. He wants her. He needs her. And he won’t let anything stand in his way. Nicole Avery just can’t seem to completely untangle herself from her crappy ex-husband. The last thing she needed to do was fall for another toxic man. When her boss’s desire for her becomes unignorable, she leans into his touch. Maybe a harmless little fling will be good for her. She knows what he’s like, so it’s not like she’ll be like the other women and fall for his charm…right?

Ally, recently divorced from a 15 year marriage has 3 kids to think about. She never expected to find love with someone she already knew. Just when things start to align for their picture perfect life, his brother shows up and unravels the new security Ally found. Can Ally and Collier survive? Or is he part of her problem?

Scandal swirls around Salvatore Moretti,whispers of his dual identity as a CEO by day and mafia boss of a high profile organised crime syndicate, threatens to jeopardise his empire.Desperate to silence the rumours,he strikes a twisted bargain with Don Silver,leader of the Silver Dynasty,offering his daughter Anya Moretti in exchange for Don Silver’s ruthless tactics to silence the rumours. Anya Moretti despite knowing her fate as a mafia princess harbours a secret desire for true love rather than a calculated arrangement. Kian,her betrothed,the silver tongued CEO by day and a ruthless kingpin by night scarred by his past fueled his silvercode,vowing never to fall prey to the vulnerabilities of love and marriage. As their lives intertwine in this unholy alliance,Anya is determined to break at Kian’s hardened exterior and most importantly his SilverCode.

Lain Navier Edevane, an assassin haunted by his past, is on a dangerous mission to avenge the brutal murder of his family. Assigned by the dark tide, an organization that controls assassins worldwide, he has no choice but to carry out their evil commands. Galen, Lain's superior, hands him a picture of a girl, instructing him to eliminate target 0351. Lain, with a smug expression, asks when she should be killed. His superior warns him not to underestimate her, as she is no ordinary girl. Lain has one hour to complete the mission, knowing that failure is not an option, as it would cost him his life. Galen handed Lain a picture of a girl. Lain frowned, disliking dirting hands. His superior ordered him to eliminate target 0351, warning that she was not an ordinary girl. Lain asked when she should be killed, and was given an hour. Failure meant death. Lain recognized the supernatural nature of his target, but his tracking abilities made finding her easy. In the club, he spotted the only redhead. In the dim light, Lain drew his dagger and approached the drunk girl with precision. As he was about to stab her, their eyes met and something awakened within him. “MATE!”

Emma Blanton twists her ankle, and my fiance, Matthew Harrison, insists on becoming her personal chauffeur. When I voice my disapproval, he makes an even more outrageous decision. He moves Emma into my apartment at Bellemont District—the apartment I bought with my own money. He argues like he's the victim, "You're being selfish. She's injured, and living alone is too dangerous for her right now. I'm just being a decent human being. "And that place is sitting empty anyway. Having someone there helps with security." On the morning we were supposed to get our marriage certificate, he doesn't show up. I call, expecting apologies. Instead, I hear, "Emma had a fever this morning—101 Fahrenheit. I had to take her to urgent care. We can postpone getting the marriage certificate. Her health can't wait." To hell with postponing! I grab my phone and call David Rockefeller. "Do you want to marry me? Then get to City Hall. I'm serious—right now."

I woke up staring at divorce papers—from the guy I'd crushed on all through college. My name. His. Right there on the page. He said I cheated. Last thing I remembered? Getting ready to finally tell him how I felt at our graduation party. Now suddenly, we've got a four-year-old. And him? He looked at me like I was some rando off the street. No trace of the sweet, soft guy I used to know. Just ice. What did I miss? What the hell happened in the last five years?

Three years ago, Lucas’ mother paid me ten million dollars to play his fated mate with the help of a potion. Lucas believed I was hopelessly in love with him. What he didn’t know was that I was nothing more than a hired actress. By day, I stood at his side during training. By night, he paraded a she-wolf through the mansion. He once sneered, “Don’t delude yourself into thinking the mate bond can change me.” I only smiled, silently counting my money. “Funny, because I never planned on giving you my heart, either.” On the day the potion wore off, I walked away with the fortune, while he spiraled into madness. Three years later, I returned victorious as the youngest S-class strategy consultant. There he was, on his knees, murmuring, “I was wrong.” Little did Lucas know that his arrogance, handed out like charity, had carried a hefty price tag of ten million. Now, even if he lost everything, it still wouldn’t be enough to buy my forgiveness.

The morning was cold and I was currency. My father handed me to Dimitri Volkov, Bratva, like I was a contract clause. I said no at the altar. Loud enough for everyone to hear. The priest kept going. Dimitri didn’t even blink. That was fact one: I was married without consent, in Chicago, to a man who accepted silence as agreement. I left him later. Not in rage. In clarity, after I saw another girl get caught in his world with no choice, just like me. Then I went to war. Law school had taught me precision, so I used it. Civil suits. Asset forfeiture. Anonymous tips to the right agencies. I took apart everything legitimate he’d built, piece by piece, until he bled territories and pride. He showed up bruised once, signed over forty percent of his clean empire to my name, brought therapy receipts. That was fact two: I dismantled the man who caged me, on paper, without firing a shot. I still have the necklace. The one he left in my lap that first night. I wore it through the worst, through the year I rebuilt alone, through every hearing. Last month I was pregnant in a courtroom, arguing a case I won. He was in the gallery. The diamonds sat above my collar. No one asked. I never explained. That was fact three: I took something from that night and made it mine. It doesn’t belong to him anymore. It doesn’t belong to what he did. It belongs to me.

David Kennedy, an art student and part time tattoo artist, meets the shy and beautiful Tina Spencer at a party at the college he attends, after she asks him for a tattoo. He is immediately enthralled by her. Something doesn’t feel right though, especially when he sees the nasty bruises covering her arms. Then Tina goes missing. The years go by, and he still thinks about her. Then one day, fate intervenes, and he finds himself face to face with the beautiful woman he tattooed all those years ago. But she has some devastating secrets. Where has she been this whole time? Will David ever get the chance to heal her? Will they get the happily ever after she needs?

When my stepsister, Kate Lawrence, is poisoned at the full moon ceremony, my father, Jack Blackwood, condemns me at once, convinced that I am the one behind it. He clamps silver chains around me and drags me into the manor's dark underground cell. His eyes burn hatefully as he snarls, "You wretch! How could I have a daughter like you? Rot in here!" I drop to my knees on the cold floor and try to explain, but the sentence he throws over his shoulder as he turns away snuffs out the last of my hope. "Even if she dies in there, no one shall go in! Whoever lets her out will die with her!" The cell severs the mind-link completely, so no one hears me screaming. Seven days later, he finally remembers me, not knowing that I'd already died on the fourth day when the silver burned through to the bone.