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Hell yes, we are. This book is your permission slip to stop overthinking. Forget logic. Forget consequences. Forget whether the logistics of that position actually make sense on a moving motorcycle. (Spoiler: they don’t. But we’re doing it anyway.) Let go. These novellas are built for pleasure. Yours. Whether you’re here for the slow burn or the instant heat, the enemies-to-lovers bickering or the sweet surrender, there’s something inside these pages to curl your toes and leave your pulse a little faster than it was before.

“You’re being paranoid. Or maybe you’re just not attracted to me anymore. Which is it?” I opened my mouth, but how could I explain it? The sensation wasn’t fear exactly. It was warmer. Deeper. Like invisible fingers trailing down my spine, teasing the sensitive spot just above my ass. My clit gave a faint, traitorous throb. I pressed my thighs together, mortified. “Stan, please. I’m not crazy. It’s this new book I got today. Something about it—”

I whispered as my p***y sent pulse after pulse to my brain. ‎Every flick of his tongue seemed to spark the electric feeling. All my nerves were centered at the one spot. I felt him enter me with one finger, drawing it out then pushing back in. In and out, in and out, until I was a groaning, writhing mess. Then it was two fingers f*****g my p***y as his mouth continued to treat my clit. ‎

I giggled. "I think I'll read it too then." "You should. What's the next book?" "ENTER THE DRAGON by CLIVE CUSSLER." All the books were marked with a white X by the side so they were easier to find and place side by side. "Finally. YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN by JEAN HAFF KORELITZ." "That one's deep." All the books had one thing in common: they all had sprinkles and bits of thrillers in them.

I said and he smiled at me appreciatively. “You have a good eye. I am sure that you have a good taste in books as well. Yes, I shall love to see a few new spy thrillers,” he said. I smiled back at him as I came out from behind the counter and then asked him to follow me to the section where the thrillers were stacked. “So you would like new authors’ books or old author’s books?” I enquired and he quizzically looked at me. Then he said,” Do you have any favourites?”

he said, voice low, “until I say you’ve earned the right to come.” Then he leaned back and opened a book—reading, stroking her thighs absentmindedly, while she sat impaled, throbbing, dripping, trembling on his cock. It was torture. Delicious. Cruel. Absolute. ⸻ An hour passed. She was shaking. Desperate. Begging with her eyes. He closed the book. “You may move now.” She rode him like her life depended on it. And when she came, he pulled her against his chest and thrust up into her, hard and brutal, until he exploded inside her with a groan.

Long enough for me to remember who I was before I met him. Turns out, I actually like romance novels. Not the tasteful literary romances Kenneth approved of. I’m talking absolutely shameless books with shirtless men on the covers, morally questionable billionaires, ridiculous amounts of tension, and enough spice to qualify as attempted arson. The kind Kenneth used to wrinkle his nose at. “Those books rot your brain, Jo.” Funny. I don’t think the books were the problem. I’ve also rediscovered cheesy rom-coms and psychological thrillers, all the goodies that Kenneth never agreed to watch with me because they were “too stupid” (the romcoms) and “too complicated” (the psych thrillers).

she adds with an hair flip. Jayden chuckled. “So, what are you doing here?” “Came to pick out some books,” Malvika said with a shrug. “So, Robert Ludlum, uhn?” she said, peering at the cover of the book in his hands. Jayden glanced down at the book. “Oh yeah,” he said. “This is actually his first book that I’m going to read. It’s a thriller, so I guess I should enjoy it.” “You read thriller. Wow! You are better than I thought!” Malvika said and he laughed. “Oh no!” she gasped.

And suddenly, they see a shortcut, a shorter route which would release them from the suffering they were subject to, and they go for it. ‘While executing the shortcut, some of them fumble,’ continued the inspector. ‘Why? Simple ... they fumble because they are amateurs! Some are so overwhelmed by their success, they end up doing crazy things. Husband murders wife but wants to kiss her one last time allowing the servant to spot him. Son murders father, and instead of running away, he starts looking for his father’s pen. Why? He wants to have a souvenir of the bad times. His sister walks in, and then he has no place to hide. These actions cannot be explained, Navpreet,’ said the inspector gloo

Hi everyone, This is my love letter to you, *Giggles* Thank you so much for reading this book. I went through a wild emotional ride writing it. I love you all so much and I appreciate your support. If you enjoy my writing and are wondering what to read next, I got you. Mafia books on this platform: Take me I'm yours ( stalker romance) His secret wife (Marriage of convience) Werewolf books on this platform: The royally screwed Luna