Short Story Books Novels & Stories

‎It had not rained for weeks!! Last night had felt like I was baking in a sauna and not in a good way. My cooling system had worked so hard, so f*****g hard, that it packed up the day before. My house slowly but surely became outrageously hot, so hot that when I looked down, I could see my n*****s peeking through the thin fabric of my sleeping T-shirt, already damp with sweat, and it wasn't even 9am yet.

, it can be found on any book platform and unlike this book, Burning passion is a novella, so just sit back and enjoy a long blissful erotic stories THANK YOU AGAIN❤️!!

The plot's overused and it gets rather boring as the year's progress. Zale on the other hand, found them to be rather cute. He wanted to be like them. The Princes'. Imagine having to save a Princess from a fire-breathing dragon. Or from the clutches of an evil stepmother. The action that would take place in those storylines never fails to thrill him every single time. He'd also find himself fantasizing about slaying the dragon and saving you from a tower. No matter how many times he's imagined it, he can't help but giggle at himself at the thought of you sending him a kiss for his glorious act of bravery.

Due to this, there was a novel that was a hit on w******l, titled 'SEX ADDICTED BOYFRIEND' It was a romance novel, where the male lead was only about having sex with his girlfriend, which the girl didn't mind of course. Seeing how their relationship was moving, without him making any attempt to ask her to marry him, the female lead started getting worried. He was very handsome and a lot of girls want to snatch him from her, but luckily, he was really in love with her. The issue was, sex. He just couldn't do without it for a week. A part of her was scared for getting dump after they've had so much sex, so she was trying to hint him into proposing to her.

I consoled him and gave him some water. “She locked me up in the store room” “WHAT? IN THE STOOR ROOM? HOW DID YOU COME HERE! Tell me everything.” I questioned. “I was locked inside since morning and when she opened me up, I ran and hid here. She warned me that she’ll lock me again if I told this to anyone.” I stood up and as I went forward Zac held my leg and started to cry. “Please don’t go. I don’t want to get locked please.”

I shaved every single golden-blonde hair from my lips to my thighs until I was as smooth as a marble statue. Then I reached into the box. The dress was a masterpiece of malice, a sheer black mesh gown that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Underneath it was a smaller item I'd missed. It had a note that read: ~If you liked what we did today and want to do it again, wear these. I'll be waiting. — Preston.~

We went inside the massive room, and she showed me all of her collections before she speaks. "The world is like a huge library that is filled with books. It’s a book that contains everyone's story. Everyone has their story written somewhere in the library. It can be a book of love between two lovers from a distance, an inspirational story of a family, a story of an unbreakable friendship, or the story of a war against long-time enemies. Our stories don't always have a happy endings. Some ends in tragedy and others end with a twist and unexpected turn of events. No matter what is written in our final chapter, it always ends up with a lesson.

“You were reading a finance book in the lobby café. And your presentation landed us the biggest deal with M.Co too,” I frowned. “That was like… three months ago.” “Yes.” “You noticed that?” His voice lowered again. “You were biting your lip while you read.” Heat shot straight to my face. “You’re unbelievable.” “So is your habit of pretending you’re invisible.” I folded my arms defensively. “Maybe I like being invisible.” He leaned closer again. Close enough that his voice brushed my ear. “No,” he murmured. “You don’t.” A shiver ran through me. Before I could respond, he stepped back. The sudden space felt strange, Like something had been taken away.

She wasn’t the kind to dart ahead like other kids. No, Myra moved slowly, her eyes tracing each shelf as though the books might lean down and whisper secrets meant just for her. I could already picture it—the way her lips would part when she found a story she liked, her quiet murmur as she read, as if every word was a drop of honey she had to savor before setting it free. We’d chosen three books, two nature guides and a brightly illustrated story about forest foxes. Suddenly her steps slowed. Her fingers loosened in mine.