Ève Curie

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

My name is Christian Thompson, and once upon a time, I was the best striker in European football. That was until he came along—Ashford Ryder, young and carefree, 10 years my junior and the new shining star. I hate him. At least that's what I tell myself. Not just because he's taken my spot, but because he's everything I've struggled all my life to be, and not to be. He's vibrant, he's happy, and the worst of all, he's openly gay. I'm not homophobic, quite the opposite—I've lived in the closet all my life. All my life, I've had to hide who I am to please the people around me. European football hasn't always been this accepting of gay men, and I'd squeezed myself into a box to fit in with what they wanted of me. It isn’t that hard when you think about my family who'd rather disown me than have an openly gay son. So imagine how I feel when the world decides to be more accommodating to people like Ashford Ryder when they shoved me in a box. It's not so easy to hate the happy-go-lucky striker, when he does everything to get close to me, despite my insistent hatred for him. He's like a thorn in my side—a hot, sexy, blonde, 5ft9 thorn I can't stop thinking about. But when one day I lose my cool around the popular striker and land myself in bad press, I end up needing his help. It's supposed to be easy. Spend some time with Ashford Ryder, and show our fans that we can work together—it's what I need to do to save my career. But no one tells you how hard it is to hate someone you spend every waking hour dreaming about.

“Daddy, I’ve made my hole tighter for you. I want you fully immersed inside me.” His voice came out soft, reverberating through my ears as he released his tiny legs around my waist, opening them wider. “Since you’ve saved me, it couldn’t stop twitching for you. And I don’t know how long it will keep pulsing for you to be buried inside.” He whispered into my right ear, his breath sending a jolt of hotness down my spine. “Fuck,” I growled, rolling my eyes. His fingers grazed my chin. I moaned. He pulled my head lower, and my gaze landed on the prettiest, reddish, tight hole I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life. My Wolf groaned, stirring as heat consumed me. I slid lower, my face almost in between his legs. “Yes, Daddy Alpha. I want you.” He winced, his nails digging into my biceps. I dragged my tongue across my lower lip. I inhaled deeply, his scent filling my nostrils, and I tightened my tights, feeling a hard bulge between them. “Daddy, devour me already.” His hand grabbed my head, lowered it, pressing my tongue against his clenching hole. ~~~~~ Behind closed doors, rules shatter and hearts unravel. SINFUL AFFAIRS invites you into a world where desire whispers in the dark and every sin feels like salvation. Here, men ache for what they shouldn’t touch. They love too hard, crave too deeply, and sin too beautifully. Every story is a confession of hunger, heartbreak, and need. And once you step inside… you’ll never want to leave. So, you’re welcome to join the kind of sin you’ll beg to repeat. Now, if you dare, enter their world and let’s see if you can handle the heat.

Ve baru menyadari jika takdirnya mungkin adalah orang yang salah. Gadis itu tak bisa memungkiri penglihatannya akan masa depan, tapi juga tak berani untuk melangkah lebih jauh, lantaran Daniel Lee pria dimasa depannya sudah bertunangan dan akan menikah sebentar lagi. Bagaimanakah kisah mereka, akankah Lavender bisa mendapatkan takdir masa depan yang dilihatnya?

In a cycle of broken plans, Elena asks Marcus, "Why another delay for her?" He insists, "Sophia's just a friend in trouble—you're my priority." Whispers of the past test their bond, while a quiet ally says, "I've cared for you longer than you know." As accusations fly—"You're imagining things!"—Elena questions her path. A final decision sparks chaos, rewriting fates.

"His lips whisper secrets of forbidden love and I was drowning in his touch, can I escape from his playful haptic?" - Ella Victoria Everette Alejos A love story that encloses a forbidden affair between a beautiful married woman in her mid-30s and a handsome senior high student who found themselves drowning in each other's playful haptic and making the sweet reckless decision they've ever made.

A simple country girl, standing in for her sister to bring good luck, marries the richest man who is in a vegetative state. Without love, having money is enough; being a carefree and happy little rich woman isn't so bad. Unexpectedly, her vegetative husband suddenly stands up. "I heard that you've been telling everyone I'm all looks and no substance? And you want a divorce?"

One witnessed murder. One ruthless mafia king. One ballerina who became his beautiful obsession. They say you can’t fall for your captor. They’ve never met Enzo Santini. He locks me up and tells me I mean nothing. Then touches me like I’m everything. His brother wants to save me. But I’m starting to wonder if I want to be saved.

Blaire Presley goes to the Carter residence, battered and bruised after being tormented by the three Carter brothers for three days. "Mr. and Mrs. Carter Senior, I've decided to marry Matthew Carter." Olivia Barrymore is surprised. "Are you sure you have the right guy, Blaire? Matt is those three brats' uncle!" Blaire isn't sure, but she has no other choice.

They were both engaged to marry their lovers. They were both betrayed and vowed never to love again. But fate had other plans for them. You'd think they'd meet but what do the rich and the poor have in common? And what happens when their past never really leaves them alone? You wouldn't know until you've read The Billionaire She Hates.