Skin Changer

Harald, chef de Horde viking banni par son roi, se retrouve, par une anomalie temporelle, dans le Boulogne sur mer d'aujourd'hui où il est considéré comme un migrant. Il vit en barbare à notre époque, et ses crimes persuadent la police qu'un tueur en série sévit dans la ville. Une prostituée, l'amadoue et peu à peu le civilise et l'accompagne dans ses recherches pour tenter de rejoindre son époque, avant que la Police ne l'interpelle pour ses meurtres. Ensemble, ils prospecteront le monde viking, croiseront Germains, Saxons et même soldats du troisième Reich, solliciteront les dieux nordiques pour changer le destin d'un guerrier égaré. Deux prêtresses, l'une viking, l'autre amérindienne useront de magie pour permettre à ce couple improbable de survivre entre ces deux mondes. Mais voyager entre le passé et le présent ou inversement n'est-ce pas modifier l'Histoire ? Un homme ne peut s'octroyer ce droit, les Dieux veillent.....

Ephemeral -- A Modern Love Story revolves around a woman named Soleil navigating through the annals of life as it coincides with the concept of love that was taught to her by her Uncle: that love can be written on sticky notes, baked into the burned edges of brownies, or found in the triplet progressions in a jazz song. A story in which she will realize that love goes beyond the scattered pieces of a puzzle or the bruised skin of apples.

"Just by looking at her, your heart starts to beat faster. If you look into her eyes, you want to respect her. Her skin is soft like silk. Just by looking at her, you want to cage her and never let anyone see her. Mafia king and my best friend, the most precious thing to Chands is none other than their mafia Princess , Ashly Chand".

There's a little shop downstairs that sells organ soup. It's always packed with customers. People line up as if bewitched, eager for a bowl. I've often wondered what secret ingredient made their soup so irresistible. This afternoon, I finally found my answer. Floating in my bowl was a piece of human skin—inked with a tattoo I knew all too well. It was the one etched on my boyfriend's arm.

He straddled me, his hips swirling in slow, maddening circles. His body was right there, pressing into mine, and I couldn’t escape it; I didn’t want to. His hands found mine and guided them to his chest, and when my palms touched his warm skin, I was gone. My pulse was a blur of frantic beats pounding in my ears, drowning out the crowd's cheers and whistles. With his face inches from mine, Alec leaned in. His breath ghosted over my lips, his smile, cocky, knowing, playful, and somehow tender all at once. “You okay there?” he asked with an amused tone, and I opened my mouth, desperate to say something—anything—but nothing came out. My throat was dry, my skin was on fire and my mind was completely blank. All I could do was stare at him, completely mesmerized by how his body moved against mine and that wicked smirk on his lips. Before I knew it, heat pooled low in my belly, spreading downward, and I instinctively clenched my thighs together to stop the throbbing that ignited between my legs, but it was too late as I dampened the soft leather.

I marry Mason Longbright, my savior, at 24. For five years, Mason's erectile dysfunction and bipolar disorder keep us from ever sleeping together. He can't satisfy me when I want him, so he uses toys on me instead. But during his manic episodes, his touch turns into torment, leaving me bruised and broken. On my birthday night, I catch Mason in bed with another woman. Skin against skin, Mason drives into Amy Becker with a rough, ravenous urgency, his desire consuming her like a starving beast. Our friends and family are shocked, but no one is more devastated than I am. And when Mason keeps choosing Amy over me at home, I finally decide to let him go. I always thought his condition kept him from loving me, but it turns out he simply can't get it up with me at all. I book a plane ticket and instruct my lawyer to deliver the divorce papers. I am determined to leave him. To my surprise, Mason comes looking for me and falls to his knees, begging for forgiveness. But this time, I choose to treat myself better.

Karen Daly originally thought that she had married an ordinary man. She never expected this man would suddenly become her boss. He actually was the most mysterious heir of Rovio Corporation Inc, the richest man in Asia. In public, he was a cold-blooded, decisive controller among the massive business empire. In private, he was a wolf in sheep's skin, like a real devil. How could he let her go easily?...

Dans un monde déchiré entre magie et réalité, les frontières invisibles sont des cicatrices marquées par des malédictions anciennes et des enchantements oubliés. Peu osent s’aventurer au-delà, mais Elara, une jeune cartographe passionnée, décide de braver l’inconnu. Lorsqu’elle rencontre Kaelen, un prince déchu hanté par son passé, leur destin s’entrelace autour d’une prophétie mystérieuse et d’un artefact capable de changer le cours des mondes. Ensemble, ils traversent des terres maudites, affrontent des sorcières, des loups mystiques et des vampires, tout en découvrant que leur lien est bien plus profond qu’ils ne l’imaginaient. Mais l’amour entre un humain et une créature magique pourrait être la clé de la rédemption… ou la cause de la destruction totale. Entre sacrifices, trahisons et choix impossibles, Les Frontières Maudites est une épopée captivante où l’amour et le courage doivent triompher des ténèbres. Plongez dans une aventure où chaque décision peut bouleverser l’équilibre fragile des mondes.

Valerie is a werewolf with a bad past. Her skin is light brown, with wild chestnut coils, and hazel eyes. After going through multiple unwilling matings with the Sadistic Alpha of her current pack, Nighthowlers. She finally stands up to him and runs away in search of her mate just to find not only does she have two mates who are twins but they are Alphas of the enemy pack. ⚠️WARNING⚠️ This book is for Mature Audience. There are sensitive subjects in this book.

I opened my eyes to a sharp sting in my arm. Pushing up my sleeve, I froze. A dense line of jagged letters had been carved into the skin of my right forearm: [This house has monsters! Every time I'm killed, I'm thrown into a loop and lose all my memories. With each death, I mark my hand.] Beneath the warning, three crooked tally marks were etched deep into my arm.