Pull Up In The Monster

Eager to get rid of her crush on her psychopathic professor, nineteen-year-old Azira Sidorov tries to reel him in by getting into trouble to get his attention. But what she never expected was Professor Blaine's dark, depraved ways to consume her whole. — Professor Blaine is psychotic. It's there in the ruthless ways he punishes students. It's there in his eyes. In his movements. And years spent observing him has made Azira Sidorov develop a soft spot for the hot, intimidating professor. Tired of holding back, she tries to reel him in by causing trouble so she could be close to him. But Professor Blaine is anything but human. He's a cold-hearted beast. When Azira wakes up the beast, he won't leave her alone. And maybe, just maybe, she likes the thrill of his whips. The harshness of his palm on her skin. The burn of his chains on her wrists. She should quit him before she ends up broken beyond repair. But Professor Blaine is an addiction. And he will consume her whole. Warning: This is a purely sadistic book. If you can't handle deep depravity, please don't read.

Book Two of Chasing The Monster Series Michael Scott is a werewolf special agent, working for the CIA. He is sent to the other side of the world to investigate one of the richest and most famous men in the world- Richard. Mike had to follow one single rule- Do. Not. Touch Richard's lover- Killian. Ever. Too bad Michael is very bad at following rules. And by the way- Killian is Michael's mate.

Four days after my death, my four-year-old daughter finally sensed that something was terribly wrong. The fridge door slammed into her forehead when she tried to get a snack. Normally, I would've been there in a heartbeat—arms open, kisses ready, whispering, "You're okay, sweetheart, Mommy's here." But this time, I just lay on the bed, cold and still.​ She didn't understand. She thought the sweet treat would make me respond. So she held the final piece of chocolate up to my mouth. "Here, Mommy. Have some chocolate..." But I didn't even blink. She climbed into my arms, clutching my clothes tightly. "Mommy... Mommy, wake up..." She waited for me to stroke her hair, to tell her that everything was going to be fine. There was only silence.​ Completely lost and scared, she found my phone. "Daddy, why is Mommy still sleeping?" she asked, her voice filled with desperation.​ In response, Oliver sent a photo of himself having Christmas Eve dinner with his childhood sweetheart. His voice was icy cold when he replied, "She's just sleeping, not dead. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm busy. Tell her to stop playing games and come apologize when she's done sulking." Then he hung up.​ But when the truth finally hit Oliver—when the coroner's report came, when the police knocked on his door right in the middle of his laughter, when he realized I'd been lying dead for four days while he toasted—he broke.

Chris Angeles. A man whose dream is to protect and serve. But evil is always lurking in the dark. Waiting, biding its time. Finding the perfect opportunity to attack. Can Chris fulfill his dreams of protecting the people of his town? What if his dreams cost something greater? Can the life of a detective have semblance of a normal, happy life? Or will it always include chaos, murder ,and bloodshed?

They say dreams are the most wonderful escape from reality. That it only gives peace and gaiety. A place where you can be yourself and do whatever you want. But, what if the dream, which is supposed to hide you away from misery, becomes a nightmare that will haunt you in reality?

With mixed feelings, Jillian Moore goes to the casting of the new season of "The Super Model" to investigate the case of a missing girl behind the scenes. Before she knows it, she stumbles into a turbulent whirlpool of glamour, ambition and shady dealings. When, to make matters worse, she falls in love and has to shimmy from one lie to the next, her life seems to come completely apart at the seams ...

A car accident leaves me unconscious for a full three years. When I wake up, my family bursts into tears of joy. They care for me with the utmost attention. But from their behavior, I sense something is wrong. There are women's clothes in the house that don't fit me. My mother's shopping cart is filled with mysterious baby items. My father's friends send congratulatory messages about a new child, and my husband is always working overtime. When my husband once again leaves me alone under the pretext that there is something urgent at the company, I secretly follow him. Inside a warmly decorated house, my parents and husband sit around a table. A woman who looks almost exactly like me is holding a baby just a few months old, gently coaxing the child to call my husband "Daddy".

Joel Gleason, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, promised he'd marry no one but me. But then, to help Jenny Swisher, my adoptive sister, get through her depression, he secretly married her. I didn't hesitate for a second before agreeing to marry Conrad Lennon, Jasselton's most untouchable heir, who'd been in love with me for years. After seven years of marriage, he still spoiled me rotten. He clung to me every night like he couldn't get enough. And there was nothing he wouldn't do for me. I really thought I'd found happiness at last. But one day, after we'd slept together, I heard him talking to his best friend. "Jenny's an international best actress now. When are you dumping Jean?" "It doesn't matter. I wouldn't end up with the person I love either way. Besides, I have to keep an eye on Jean. I can't let her ruin all the happiness Jenny worked so hard for." I booted up the computer in Conrad's study and stumbled upon a hidden folder. Inside were over 100,000 photos of Jenny, plus 100 unsent love letters. I'd been fooling myself long enough. It was time to wake up. I got myself a fake body and got ready to start a fire. That was it. Conrad and I were done for good.

Even after being married for three years, my husband treats me like a stranger. When I throw up blood from pregnancy complications, he's in the prayer room chanting for his foster sister, Yvie Springton. He accuses me of being dramatic. If Yvie so much as gets a headache, he drops everything and flies overseas to be by her side. When his parents are in critical condition after a car crash, I beg him to go see them one last time. But what does he do? He claims I'm cursing Yvie. When I go into early labor and cling to life after giving birth to our son, he posts a photo of his international boarding pass on social media. At his parents' funeral, he returns to the country with Yvie and demands I leave the marriage with nothing. The day our divorce finalizes, he holds a wedding ceremony with her. I bury his parents alone. Then, at an exclusive auction, dead set on winning the famous painting for Yvie, he offered a staggering price. Even his accounts are frozen. That's when he finally realizes he's been disowned by the Springton family. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's furious as he demands answers. I simply gesture for my lawyer to step forward. He says, "Mr. Springton, take a look at this will."

I was never a novel person. Honestly? I couldn’t care less about them. That is, until “Three Hearts, One Love”... the reverse harem novel that took over the world… shoved itself into my life. Everywhere I turned: malls, newsfeeds, radios, TVs… Even the old lady at the bus stop was raving about it. Out of pure annoyance… and a little curiosity… I bought a copy, planning to skim it just enough to say it was overrated. Big mistake. Huge. One minute I was rolling my eyes at the melodrama, the next I woke up inside the story — not as the beloved heroine, of course. No, fate made me Luna Graves: the pathetic and miserable, jealous best friend doomed to crash and burn spectacularly by the end of the novel. With no way out, I figured I'd play my part, die dramatically, and call it a day. But then something weird happened. Scenes shifted. Strangers walked onto the page. And the swoon-worthy male leads? They stopped chasing the heroine... and started chasing me. Me. The villain. This wasn’t in the script... and I was definitely not ready.