No Parappa Holding It In Doesn't Do Anything

The night before our Mating Ceremony, my fated mate, Alpha Ryker of the Howling Moon Pack, ordered me to give him the Moon Soul Crystal—the very thing that protected my pack, the Willow Creek Pack. He said he needed it to power up the Howling Moon Pack's Blood Moon Altar. He also promised he'd keep me and my people safe. But he didn't know that we, the healers of the Willow Creek Pack, can only create one Moon Soul Crystal in our entire lives. Making one takes a crazy amount of moon energy. It's the treasure that keeps our pack alive. My mother, worried about me using up my moon energy while I was pregnant, gave up her own Moon Soul Crystal instead. But just three months after Ryker and I were mated, she got sick, fast. She was dying. I knelt in front of Ryker, crying, begging him for the Silverleaf Herb from the Howling Moon's forbidden grounds. It was the only thing that could save my mom. But he just looked at me, his eyes full of disappointment, and kicked me away. "I asked for the Moon Soul Crystal to test you," he snarled. "And just as I thought, you married me for our pack's treasures! Your mother's not sick. You're making it all up!" "You don't deserve to be the Luna of the Howling Moon Pack!" It wasn't until after my mother died, when he was arguing with me, trying to kick me out of the pack, that my mother's things fell and scattered everywhere. Her Soul Stone, the symbol of a wolf's spirit, shattered. That's when he finally realized he was wrong. He fell to his knees, begging me not to leave, crying for me to forgive him.

My wife was gone for 6 months on a business trip. The day she returned, however, she was not alone. Hand in hand, my wife showed up with her lover—my client. This was not even the worst part—she was also 3 months' pregnant. My client, in all his beer-bellied arrogance, hurled the contract at my feet, smirking. "Mr. Carter, your wife has gone to so much trouble for this partnership. Truth be told, I would never, not even in a million years, have agreed to partner with you if it wasn't for her!" My wife caressed her pregnant belly and said smugly, "I was the one who successfully got Mr. Lewis' business! I'll let you have it, though, as long as you agree to get a divorce!" I tore the contract into shreds and roared, "You want a divorce? Fine! I'll give it to you, but I'll never sign this!"

"Your pregnant Harriet." When Harriet Smith hears those very words she had been dreading, she knew her world would change forever. She was forced into a loveless marriage. Mr Smith was a powerful, rich man. He had never wanted to marry Harriet, but to keep his family happy, he entered into a contract marriage. Harriet always played the dutiful wife, but she did the one thing you should never do into a contract marriage, and that is to fall head over heels in love with your husband. Not knowing what to do, she seeks help from one of Mr Smith's closest friends. When Mr Smith claims to really be in love with her, does she believe him? After everything he has done to her? Does he only want her because she is in love with someone else?

RACHEL:I was supposed to be a bride. Instead, I became a tragedy in a white dress. When your mother dies the same night your groom disappears, you stop believing in happy endings. Then came him. A man with no warmth, no promises and eyes that watched me like I was a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. He saved me once. Now I live under his roof, cooking meals for a stranger whose silence speaks louder than comfort. Then there is Chris, the charming CEO who drowns me in the kind of affection I always dreamt of. And there is Liam, my ex fiance who came crawling back, begging for another chance. But the heart is a stupid thing. Even when it’s broken, it still learns to give second chances. Even for the wrong man. DAMIAN: She was a disaster I didn’t ask for. One I couldn’t ignore. I don’t do emotions, and I sure as hell don’t do strays. But I let her in, just for a while. Rachel Hart is not my responsibility. But she keeps showing up in places I can’t ignore, my company, my home, my thoughts. Now her presence lingers. Her scent. Her voice. Her past. She doesn’t belong in my world. But I find myself rearranging it anyway. And when someone else tries to claim her, They’ll learn the hard way I don’t let go of what’s mine.

What happens after a young prominent business tycoon Mr. John Emerald was forced to bring down his ego after signing an unaware contract. This novel contains highly sexual content.

"Fuck," I snap, unzipping her jeans skirt and tearing the thing down her legs, throwing it over my shoulder. "You've driven me to the edge, little girl. It was hard enough having you wiggle that tight ass around in my lap without coming. Then I see other males looking at you?" I yank down her panties and discard them in the foot well. "For that, I'm going to pump so deep, you'll see stars." "Yes," she gasps, spreading her legs wider as I go down and take a long, sweet whiff of her pink pussy. "I'd like that very much, Daddy. Please me. Please, Daddy...fuck..." I take the first lick, my fingers digging into her laps as she moans out in pleasure. "Oh, fuck! Oh. Oh my God." One more lick and her pussy starts to quiver, her legs stiffening where I've rested them on my shoulders. "Damien." I close my lips lightly around her clit and apply careful suction, increasing the pressure until she's crying out. "What do you really want from me, little girl?" "Go faster, Daddy. Please me harder. Please me..." ------------- Warning: This book is intended for 18+ audiences. It is an erotic boxset, containing seventeen original erotic short stories. Steamy, fun, and fulfilling, just how ya'll like it.

Despite a decade of marriage, Simon never once shared my bed, claiming that he had pledged himself to ascetic practices and that it was beneath him. I thought that he suffered from some shameful ailment and guarded his secret like a devoted fool, until my birthday, when I came home to find him entangled with a brothel worker before the floor-length mirror. When I lunged forward in rage, he drove a shard of that broken mirror straight through my heart. When I awoke, I was gripping my phone, its screen illuminating a message Simon had just sent: [I’ll still give you a lavish wedding, but the marriage certificate? That belongs to her.]

Fedora Smith was done with love. Finished. Buried. Betrayal had ripped out her heart and torched it—her boyfriend of four years and her best friend of twenty-five caught pants down on the very anniversary sheets she gifted him. And their excuses? “You’re not attractive anymore.” “You took too long to marry him.” Fine. If love was a game, she was rewriting the rules. Now, she runs The Bridal Fix, an elite agency providing fake marriages for a steep price—rent-a-bride services for men needing to fool their families, secure an inheritance, or stage the perfect breakup. Fifteen weddings, fifteen divorces—no strings, no mess. Just business. Until Judah Carlstone. He hires her like the rest—one contract, one wedding, one payday. But Judah asks too many questions. Looks at her too long. And when he smirks and says— "Tell me, Fedora… how does it feel to say ‘I do’ and not mean it?" For the first time in years, she has no answer. Because this was never supposed to feel real.

Arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, Mafia/cartel romance As the only daughter of the Kansas City capo, at eighteen years of age, I was given to the son of my father’s consigliere, a man who was expected to accomplish great things for the famiglia. Things didn’t go the way we planned. There wasn’t love. My husband was a traitor, taking part in a coup against the famiglia. He’s now dead. I’m free. Until the fateful night my brother, our new capo, informs me that I’ve once again been promised in marriage. He explains that as a childless widow and the daughter of the late capo dei capi, I am desired. Requested. Aléjandro Roríguez is the son of the leader of the Roríguez cartel. My brother married a woman from the cartel, securing the Mafia/cartel alliance. He says that it’s now my turn. I’ve only met my future husband a few times, but I know without a doubt that I don’t like him. Loving him is impossible. I’ve lived in a marriage without love. I won’t do it again. Aléjandro lives a dangerous existence. Death saved me once before. Maybe it will again. Have you been Aleatha’d?

Two years after we marry, my husband moves his sister and her family into our marital home. The four of them settle down and refuse to leave. So, I quit both my jobs. I laze around at home all day and splurge on various things. I have so many parcels delivered that they pile up by the door. Occasionally, I ask my husband and his sister for allowance. When the management office sends someone to chase for our maintenance fee, my husband breaks down so loudly that everyone in the building can hear him. He asks me whether I've lost my mind—who will support the family if I don't work? How will we survive without money? Am I going to allow our family to starve? So, it turns out he does know that we'll starve without anyone generating income. Why does he and his sister stay at home and plot to take away all my money, then?