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Please check out my other werewolf romance book, ‘Fated To Her Ruthless Alpha,’ and I promise you won’t be disappointed. Love, Rae-Rae.

“Even though you have short legs and small hands.” “Thank you.” I said blushing, while he picked me up and took me to the nearest mirror. Now it is more natural for me to look at myself in a mirror, and even more so when the person behind me is Dr. Mark. “You look so beautiful.” He repeats once again in my ears. Now he licks this one a little, while I hold my hands on his hips, while I turn around, leaving my reflection behind. This time I kiss him, placing my hands on his chin while he lets me touch him. So my tongue and his come together as one. I don't believe in fairy tales, but I feel like a princess and he is a prince who loves me, and he tells me how beautiful I am. I feel like we are

He rubbed his nose without saying anything. In truth, Maisie and Ethan's love story was a little like something out of a romance drama. During their school days, she'd been a good girl, and he'd been a bad boy. After graduation, they'd been a perfect couple who had supported each other through the difficulties of starting a business. When Ethan had just graduated from college, he'd developed a game with a few of his coursemates. How many fresh graduates had money in their pockets? Ethan and Maisie had no choice but to rent the basement of a place in the suburbs of Shelkin City.

It hit the internet like wildfire. By dawn, the entire city was buzzing about the headline: "Billionaire Damien Cole in FAKE Romance? Leaked Contract Exposes Staged Relationship." Serena sat frozen in front of her laptop as the article was splashed across every major gossip site. The article came with a photocopy of the original contract, complete with her signature and Damien's. Bullet points were highlighted in red. "Duration: Three months minimum." "Public appearances required." "Emotional intimacy not guaranteed."

It was a kiss unlike any other in the ten years I had known him, fueled by both lust and a need to punish. When he finally released me, we were both panting. "You love me," Francis said, locking eyes with me, each word deliberate as if willing it to be true. "You'll keep loving me. The drugs are irrelevant." I could not help but laugh. "Francis, who are you kidding?" Francis acted like he did not hear me. He just stood up and smoothed out his suit. "You're getting out tomorrow. Come stay at my place." "That's not my home," I said.

**** Later that evening, I sat on my bed in my dorm room, my laptop balanced on my knees. The logical thing would’ve been to finish the reading for my marketing class that I’d been putting off for three days. Instead, I was interested in something else. Something far more important. I typed two words into the search bar. Adrian Frost. Several results appeared immediately. The first result I clicked on was his university faculty profile. Adrian Frost, Assistant Professor of Psychology, Westview University. I stared at the professional headshot that filled the screen. Blank gray eyes. Dark hair. The exact same serious expression he wore this morning.

She said. "Come on this is not a marriage proposal, do you think my marriage proposal will be as lame as this? I can be very romantic when I want to be you know." I said and she laughed. "You? Romantic? Okay tell me, how will your marriage proposal be?" She asked. "You'll only get to find out if you accept to date me now so do you?" I asked. "I told you so." She said. "What?" "I told you back then remember? You said you weren't ever going to fall in love, I told you that you will and I'll be here to say I told you so when that happens." She said and I laughed.

The man was a billionaire and could pay for anything he wanted as long as he could get it. I moved close to the books and tried reading some of their titles. They were mostly novels, and a little gasp fled my lips when I saw my favorite dark romance series, sitting on the shelf. The Ryan Rule by Sadie Kincaid. I loved the four books of that series so much, and although I’ve read them all, I wouldn’t mind re-reading them again. I didn’t have the money to purchase the books so I borrowed from a schoolmate. But now they were here.

She was fully expecting him to give it one glance, and put it down with a caustic remark about trash, at which she would mutter something equally caustic about literary snobs. Instead he scanned it for perhaps twenty seconds. It was ridiculous to feel embarrassed, but she did. Not because he was reading about the imaginative contortions of Dominic and Natalya, but because he was probably imagining her reading them and getting all hot and erogenous in the process. In fact, she had not. As scenes of rampant nookie went, it had been disappointingly unerotic - more like a DIY plumbing manual than anything else. ‘Jesus,* he muttered at last. ‘This is anatomically impossible.*