Spooky Nook Tournament Schedule Novels & Stories

Nubia has her life planned out. She is working on her master's degree in post colonial studies. She has a quiet apartment and a schedule she sticks to. Every Wednesday night she finishes class at nine thirty, walks to the bus stop, and waits. The bus is always late. There is always a stranger sitting on the bench. He wears headphones and draws in a sketchbook. He never speaks. She calls him Pencil Boy in her phone and does not think much about it. Then one October night the bus is delayed by forty three minutes. Eli studies architecture but he draws people instead of buildings. He has been sketching Nubia for six weeks without ever saying a word. He is quiet and pays close attention to things. He has learned to keep people at a distance because it feels safer that way. But when the cold night gets to Nubia and he gives her his hoodie, the silence between them finally breaks. What begins as pie at a late night diner turns into a Wednesday night tradition. Then a friendship. Then something much deeper. As Nubia and Eli grow closer, they must face the things that make them different. Race. Class. The dreams they are chasing. The families they come from. And the strong pull of a connection neither of them can ignore. Set over one school year, 43 Minutes is a warm and sensual love story about two people learning to truly see each other. It is about letting yourself be seen. And it is about the moments that change your life in less than an hour but stay with you forever.

Seven years into our marriage, my husband Theo ordered me an Americano, the way he always did. Except I'd just told him, again, that caffeine made me sick. The moment I opened my mouth to say something, his phone rang. He stood up and walked out without a word of explanation. Half an hour later, Lydia posted to her socials. "Thanks to a certain someone for taking time out of his insane schedule to fix my plumbing. Also, the fresh hot cocoa was incredible." The comments filled up with people gushing over her. Steam curled off the mug in the photo. It made the drink in my hand feel even colder. Lydia and Theo had grown up together. Seven years ago, within months of each other, they'd both rushed into marriage. The difference was that Lydia had married a man who hit her. Night after night, Theo would peel himself away from me and run off to defend her. Sometimes he'd fought with her husband and end up at the police station. It happened more than once. I used to think it was just his sense of justice, so I always cleaned up after him and smoothed things over. Now I could see it for what it was. He'd given so much of his attention to someone else that all I got were the leftovers, neglect and a cold shoulder. Fine. This love had already gone cold. I didn't want it anymore.

Does no one want him? Is he so undesirable his mate rejected him and chose someone else? Is he so despicable even his second chance mate doesn’t want to be with him? What’s more, he realized that members of his pack don’t actually like him. They fear him. They don’t like his methods. They prefer his younger brother to become the next Alpha of Blood Moon Pack. His father made the decision to strip him of his position after he made a number of unconscionable acts. Jared smirked, scoffing to himself as he drove off the territory. Where is he supposed to go? Would anyone still welcome him? He thought of Polly and how he hurt her many times. He would consider it a miracle if she still accepts him even after being marked against her will. ******* Each book in the Snow Mountain Pack Series can be read as a stand-alone. If you'd rather not have any spoiler, the sequence is as follows: Book 1 - Begging His Luna (completed) Book 2 - Found by Her (completed) Book 3 - His Unknown Mate (completed) Book 4 - Marked Against Her Will (ongoing) Book 5 - Alpha King's Mysterious Mate (completed) Book 6 - The Last Lycan's Fate (2024) Book 7 - Rejecting Her Rejection (2024) Book 8 - The First Alpha Queen (2025) Book 9 - The Vampire's Lone Wolf (2025) Update Schedule: Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday

After my rebirth, the very first thing I did was ride from one blood donation van to another, giving blood until I nearly collapsed. Why? Because in my previous life, my fiancé's newly hired intern, Shirley Lynch, had bound herself to a blood-exchange system. Every milliliter she donated was siphoned directly from my own veins. In just a month, she transformed from an ordinary college girl into the nation's beloved Blood Angel, showered with fame and fortune, while I, suffering from severe anemia, was fired from the hospital for being unable to work. When I exposed her scheme to my fiancé, he looked at me with disgust and broke off our engagement. "You're selfish and cowardly," he sneered. "You refuse to donate your rare blood type, and now you slander Shirley? You call yourself a doctor, yet you believe in such ridiculous nonsense!" From then on, every time Shirley donated blood, I would suffer heart palpitations, dizziness, and sometimes collapse outright. I begged the doctors in my department for help, but my fiancé blocked every attempt, accusing me of jealousy and wasting medical resources. In the end, to steal my promotion ahead of schedule, Shirley donated a full 1000 milliliters of blood live on television. As her blood drained, so did mine. I went into shock and died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Shirley first claimed she carried my rare blood type.

BLURB: In a shadowed world ruled by ancient wolf packs, power is carried in blood and sealed by bonds. Nalani has always fought to belong. Fierce, stubborn, and unbreakable, she carves her path as a warrior, refusing to bow to anyone’s expectations. But beneath her fire burns a truth she never imagined: her blood is silver. Her lineage is Lynix… a near-extinct breed immune to silver and bound to a prophecy that could shatter or save every kingdom. Heartbroken and rejected by her childhood crush, she buries her pain in relentless training, determined to rise above everyone. Then the mate bond awakens. Not once. Twice. Caspian and Kieran are twin alphas… brothers by birth, enemies by choice. One is brooding and unyielding, a wall of quiet control. The other is charming and reckless, a storm hiding behind a smirk. Both are hers… fated, possessive, and caught between the hatred that divides them and the pull that binds them to her. The bond is electric, consuming, impossible to ignore. They cannot share without tearing each other apart. Yet neither can let her go. As the tournament nears and danger circles closer… anonymous threats, shadowy figures, Nalani must face the family she thought she knew, the mates who both claim her soul, and the power she never wanted. She can run. She can fight. She can deny the bond that burns through her veins. But the moon does not bargain. In a world where love can heal or destroy, where twin alphas must share what they once fought to possess, and where a single drop of silver blood could bring ruin or redemption, Nalani will have to choose: embrace the Lynix within her and risk everything, or reject it and lose the only thing that has ever felt like home.

I was born with a one-track mind—I take everything seriously and do exactly as I'm told. When my adoptive father cursed a rival company, calling them bloodsucking vampires, I immediately went out, bought ten pounds of garlic and a crucifix, and stormed into their CEO's office to perform an exorcism. When my adoptive mother said she was willing to sell a kidney for the sake of the company, I contacted an underground black-market clinic on the spot and asked when they could schedule her surgery. Over time, no one dared joke casually around me anymore. Everyone in the family chose their words with extreme care, terrified I might take them at face value. That is, until the day of the family reunion banquet—when the fake heiress, who refused to leave no matter what, showed up as well. She hooked her arm through my brother's and flashed me a provocative smile. "Arista, Benji dotes on me the most," she said sweetly. "He said if anyone dares to make me unhappy, he'll chop them into pieces and dump them in the river to feed the fish." The banquet hall erupted in laughter. I was the only one whose face went deathly pale. The next second, I kicked my brother, Benji Collins, straight onto the dining table. I grabbed the silver steak knife and pressed it against his throat. "Everyone, stay calm," I announced loudly. "I've already called the police! For publicly advocating premeditated murder, desecration of a corpse, and antisocial personality tendencies… The minimum sentence is the death penalty!"

He's sugar. She's spice. Together, they will never work. She has done the impossible. Working for the country's most difficult boss for seven years. Rosaline Carter's work life is fueled by her love for spicy food, a fat paycheck, and dreams of sending her brother to Harvard. She's sworn off love completely. Until that fateful monday morning. "I need a fiancée, Miss Carter. And I need one who at least knows my favourite brand of coffee." A contract marriage to her boss, the impossible and difficult Alaric Sylvester? Rosaline never even saw him as a man to begin with. But for five billion dollars? She would propose to Mr Ice king and plan the wedding alone. Alaric Sylvester hates his assistant. With her sensible shoes, horn rimmed glasses, and perfectly polite way of speaking, she never fails to get on his nerves. She's the last person he wants for a wife, or even a romantic figure. Yet she's the best option. No one knows his schedule by heart, or his love for sweets. It's just three years. And he'll never see her again. With his inheritance on the line, the board of directors hounding him for being too antisocial, and rumours starting to stir...he will do anything to save his reputation. Including marrying his cold hearted assistant. And with her hatred for sweets, he's sure he'll never like her. It's only a marriage agreement. The terms were simple. But simple doesn't always equal easy. And the human heart is a traitorous beast.

On the fifth year of my marriage with Stefano Calderone, his older brother, Don Giovanni Calderone, sacrificed himself to protect him during an ambush. When Stefano inherited Giovanni's position as the next Don, he also inherited Giovanni's widowed wife, Camilla Bianchi. Every night, after leaving Camilla's room, he'd embrace me and say, "Alessandro, you're my actual lover. Once Camilla gets pregnant, I'll register our marriage once again and ensure that you and our son will have proper positions in the Calderone family." For the next six months, he slept with Camilla 200 times in a row. At first, he'd only spend one night with her per week. But gradually, it shifted into a regular schedule of nightly visits in her room. After their 201st coupling, the news of Camilla being pregnant gets spread throughout the villa. Soon after, news of Stefano and Camilla getting married breaks out. My son, Niccolo Calderone, grips the hem of my clothes while asking me innocently, "Mommy, didn't Daddy tell us that he'd give us a home? Why is he marrying another woman, then?" I just ruffle his hair in return. "Daddy no longer belongs to us. But it's okay, Niccolo. Mommy will take you back to our real home." Stefano will never find out that I'm not as alone as he thinks in this world. The truth is, I'm the principessa of another powerful mafia family in Sirelia. I never wanted the position of the Calderones' Donna, to begin with.

Six years ago, my sister and I fell for the same man, Edmund. But he only had eyes for Rosalie, the sweet, innocent type. With them, I was always the third wheel. They got married, of course. And on their wedding day, I overheard my parents whispering. "The company's strapped for cash," my father said. "What if we marry Corinne off to our business partner? That'd solve our problem..." This "partner" was over fifty and twice divorced. So I ran. I fled to Sicily with the only five thousand dollars to my name. I ran on pure bitterness. In four years, I brought dozens of small-time Sicilian crews to heel and forged my own family: Vexille. In another two, I came back to New York and quietly became the most powerful woman in the North American underworld. By then, Edmund's power was crumbling, hit hard by a rival family. That's when my mother called, her voice full of that same old entitlement. "Your brother-in-law's in some trouble. Figure out a way to help him." Then a text from my sister, Rosalie, dripping with contempt: "Sister, I remember you have a little casino in Sicily, right? So you must know something about that Vexille family." "Edmund needs their help. See what you can dig up." They still don't know. I'm the Don of the Vexille family. I glanced at the schedule my advisor had prepared. Tomorrow, 9:00 AM. A sit-down with some minor family looking for a handout. The name on the file: Edmund.

On our wedding anniversary, I canceled all my meetings and made a reservation at a restaurant. That evening, my wife, the renowned investigative journalist Amaya Shaw, called me. “Efim, I’m sorry! I just received a tip from a source. It’s urgent. “It involves inside information about a well-known company. I have to go verify it immediately!” But the next day, I saw that Javor Furey, the junior she had brought along, had posted a collage on his social media. The central photo showed Amaya wearing a childish birthday hat. Her head was pressed against Javor’s, as they made a wish together in front of a cake covered in candles. This was the caption. [Thanks, my dear Ms. Shaw! Even in the midst of her busy schedule chasing big stories, she remembered to give me this surprise birthday!] [Chasing big stories.] I stared at those three words. Then, I glanced at the limited-edition bag on our dining table. It was the one she had been raving about for half a year. It was the anniversary gift I had prepared for her. I felt absurd. I commented just two words under that post. [How touching.] Her call came in almost the second I hit send. She sounded furious. “Efim, do you have to be so sarcastic? “It’s just an anniversary. How old are you? Why are you still celebrating such childish anniversaries?” From our first year of marriage to the present, her “tip-offs from informants” and “special circumstances” always took precedence over our promises. This time, she could not even be bothered to come up with a plausible excuse. I did not say anything. I hung up and blocked her number. This marriage was over.