Stack Experience Through Writing Books

The Hate to Love Series consists of three books: 1. You're Trouble 2. His Biggest Fan 3. He's My Heartbeat What are you waiting for? Read the book now! Status: COMPLETED

Later, a man and woman walk to the field. My heart was beating fast.  “Ah, here they are. Our marking ceremony will start soon. Cameron, Lisa, please stand here!” Alpha Horace said.  Before I could stop myself, I stood and walked to approach them. “Stop it! The marking ceremony should be stopped!” *** The book is a spin-off of The Alpha King and I, but both books can be read as stand-alone. It is the second book of The Moon City Series. When the past life was tragic, what if the next life offers a new possibility? As an Omega, Anna Warren is reborn from the dead, fully remembering her past life as Victoria Lewis, a vampire. However, her spouse—Cameron Black who lived as Constantine Night, a royal werewolf, now lives as an Alpha of their pack—doesn't remember his past life. Love is as strong as death since even through all, Anna will strive to win Cameron back. Can Anna make Cameron remember his past life and have the happy second chance of life?

From a stall in the office restroom, I overhear someone badmouthing me. Henry Fielder, the intern I've been mentoring for three months, grumbles, "The guy's got zero people skills. He's a total fossil, like a robot stuck in one mode." I'm about to push the door open and jump in when someone laughs and piles on. "The paperwork is incomplete. The receipts aren't compliant. I can't reimburse it without a manager's signature. We could recite his canned empathy lines in our sleep!" Once they're gone, I quietly head back to my office. Later, Henry drops a thick stack of expense reports onto my desk. "Quit waving the rulebook and rejecting everyone's reimbursements." I skim the fake receipts, and for once, I don't call him out. Instead, I give a thin smile and say, "I have a headache. I can't make out the words."

A pack full of hatred… A pack of mercilessness… A pack where treasures are hidden…yet, stones are being gathered. A pack full of secrets.. The Lycan's hidden treasure! A pack where DOOM looms, and solutions are being sorted for, hoping and trusting for a lasting one, aged long secrets are discovered; secrets meant to be kept hidden till eternity, yet, there was no discovery till the time was right. ~~~~~~~ While the clock ticked, there was one thing I could do. To pour out my pain. So I fell into writing, communicating my feelings through my very own pen. I write this with thick pain spreading across the walls of my heart as I count every second I would be called to get slaughtered like an actual animal, just to increase the fertility of the land, and make the general Alpha, prosper more abundantly… This is my journey. From me, Chosan, the Alpha's Destined Slave, to you whom I cry to for prayers until I'm ripe to be plucked. And chopped. All Rights Reserved Copyright 2022 CHOSAN: ALPHA'S DESTINED SLAVE

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

Three months since my husband, Julian Moretti, disappeared. I walked into his favorite den, the grief so deep it stole the air from my lungs. I just wanted to breathe him in, to find any trace of him that was left. Then I heard it. A familiar laugh. And the soft moan of a woman. Through a crack in the door, I saw him. My husband, the man "missing" for three months, had his hand tangled in another woman's hair. "Baby, just a little longer," he said. "Soon as I siphon enough cash from the family's books, we're gone. You and me." In his arms was Bianca, from the Rosso family. "What about your wife?" she purred. "Let her play the grieving widow. She's nothing without me anyway." My fists clenched. The world went quiet, my blood turning to ice. The next day, I put the word out to the entire Family. "I'm holding a memorial mass for my husband." At the service, he stormed in, a ghost returned from the grave, roaring that he was alive and there to take back what was his. But I was standing next to his uncle, Dante Moretti, and all I did was stare him down. "Then explain," I said, my voice cutting through the silence. "Explain the woman. Explain the money. Explain your betrayal... to the Family. And to me."

I was in the office bathroom stall when I heard them trash-talking me. The intern I'd trained for three months whined, "She's a heartless witch—like a robot with zero brain cells." I was about to swing the door open when another voice jumped in, laughing. "Documents incomplete." "Receipts don't match." "No signature? Denied." "Seriously, we've all memorized the freaking rulebot's script!" Once they were gone, I headed back to my desk. The intern stormed in and slammed a fat stack of reimbursement forms in front of me. "Don't go on another power trip and block everyone's claims." I skimmed the obviously fake receipts. Normally, I'd tear into her. But this time, I just smiled. "My head's killing me. Can't read the fine print."

“You’ll serve me as a mistress. My personal sex slave.” He said, in his ever calm sultry and silky voice and if it were not for the words that he had spoken, I would have been carried away by that voice. “What? You can’t be serious! That is not happening at all.” Maybe I should have thought through my words before speaking because the moment the words were out of my mouth the Alpha’s dark eyes turned even darker. *** On the night of the feast of Alphas, Catherine spills some onto the jacket of one of the Alphas present and she thought her life would be ruined for good, especially when the Alpha King decided to step in to clear off the debt and also acquire her as a mistress, little did she know that this singular experience was about to change her life forever.

“Hypersexuality is not a good thing. It was a need that I had to fill.” - Gabe Howard/Dhalia Uson experienced various abuses against men since she was a child. Sadly, she still carried that bitter experience until she grew up into a young woman. She used her beautiful face and strange charm that deliberately drove the men associated with her crazy. Until a man came into her life who accepted her wholeheartedly and without hesitation. She finally found how to be truly respected and loved through that man. The thing that she’s been longing for. But . . . It seems that destiny was playing on her because Dhalia's world has become more chaotic since then. Gradually, all her dreams in life crumbled. Even her identity that she tried so hard to save was lost forever . . .

I was reborn. Right back to the day I adopted Peter. The wind cut sharp, baby cries slicing through the cold. That's when it hit me—this was the day Stuart Pete, my oh-so-loving husband, dumped his illegitimate child right in my path after work. He knew me too well. The second I picked the kid up, he'd spin it into an adoption, making the boy ours. Last time, I fell for it. This time? I walked away without a second thought. Later, I heard the kid got pneumonia from being left out in the freezing cold—fever so bad, it wrecked him for life. I laughed until my stomach hurt. What I didn't see coming? Peter was reborn too—about to experience the life he was meant to have.