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He comes to me through a lattice in a confessional booth in my church.

Heโ€™s brash, vulgar, and confessing to things that would send him to hell, and yet, I find myself intrigued by the mysterious man.

His sinful words thrill me. His way of life, so different from my own, has me coveting excitement thatโ€™s long been missing. The more Iโ€™m around him, the more I realize how long Iโ€™ve been deprived of so much, and the more my own deviance begins to emerge.

On paper, nothing about the two of us makes sense, and there are many reasons why I should keep my distance. I try to be pious, but if anyone were to find the skeletons in my closet, Iโ€™d be excommunicated from the church.

When something from my past reveals itself, I find myself being pulled into a way of life I didnโ€™t think would be in my future, and now I straddle the line between right and wrong. Morality vs necessity.

Iโ€™m a priest. Heโ€™s a murderer. But weโ€™re both sinners.

Thereโ€™s only one thing better than being popular, well liked, and the most attractive person on campusโ€”itโ€™s being the object of his desire. 

I was overlooked most of my life. Quiet, nerdy, and someone people didnโ€™t notice. But he saw me. Adrian Kennedy was kind where others were indifferent. He laughed, not at me, but because of me. Because he believed I was the funniest person he knew. I was myself with himโ€”stripped bare, exposed. Raw and open in a way Iโ€™ve never known since. I was his, and he was mine. 

But I was a secret. Perhaps an experiment. Pushed aside when things got too scary. Too real. His kindness turned into cruelty, not because of words he said, but because he was unaware of what his rejection felt like.

Years later, heโ€™s made his way into my life once more. Heโ€™s married now. To a woman who will never know him the way I did. The way I still do. Heโ€™s lying to her and himself, and becoming my neighbor is sure to expose everything, because he is mine, and I am hisโ€”the keeper of his secret.

๐—Ÿ๐—ถ๐—ด๐—ต๐˜๐˜€, ๐—–๐—ฎ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐—ฎ, ๐—ฃ๐—ฎ๐˜€๐˜€๐—ถ๐—ผ๐—ป ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ด-๐˜ต๐˜ฐ-๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ด ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜บ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ด๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ๐˜ญ๐˜บ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏโ€™๐˜ต ๐˜จ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜บ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ด ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ข ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฌ-๐˜ต๐˜ฐ-๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ. ๐˜Œ๐˜น๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ต ๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ, ๐˜ฃ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ, ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ, ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜บ, ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ข ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ง๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ต.


๐š‚๐šŠ๐š—๐š๐šข ๐š‹๐šŽ๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐šœ, ๐š๐š›๐šž๐š’๐š๐šข ๐š๐š›๐š’๐š—๐š”๐šœ, ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š๐šž๐š›๐šš๐šž๐š˜๐š’๐šœ๐šŽ ๐š ๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ๐š›๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ ๐šŠ๐š•๐š• ๐™ธ ๐šŽ๐šก๐š™๐šŽ๐šŒ๐š๐šŽ๐š ๐š๐š›๐š˜๐š– ๐š๐š‘๐š’๐šœ ๐š๐š›๐š’๐š™. ๐™ธ ๐š๐šŽ๐š๐š’๐š—๐š’๐š๐šŽ๐š•๐šข ๐š๐š’๐š๐š—โ€™๐š ๐šŠ๐š—๐š๐š’๐šŒ๐š’๐š™๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ ๐š›๐šž๐š—๐š—๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š’๐š—๐š๐š˜ ๐š–๐šข ๐š‘๐š’๐š๐š‘ ๐šœ๐šŒ๐š‘๐š˜๐š˜๐š• ๐šŒ๐š›๐šž๐šœ๐š‘โ€”๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š“๐š˜๐šŒ๐š” ๐š๐š‘๐šŠ๐š ๐š—๐šŽ๐šŸ๐šŽ๐š› ๐š˜๐š—๐šŒ๐šŽ ๐š•๐š˜๐š˜๐š”๐šŽ๐š ๐šŠ๐š ๐š–๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š ๐šŠ๐šข ๐™ธ ๐š ๐šŠ๐š—๐š๐šŽ๐š ๐š‘๐š’๐š– ๐š๐š˜.

๐Ÿฅ… ๐˜Ž๐˜ฐ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ

๐ŸŽฅ ๐˜—*๐˜ณ๐˜ฏ ๐˜š๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ณ

๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿปโ€โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿ’‹โ€๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿผ ๐˜‰๐˜ช-๐˜ˆ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ

๐Ÿ๏ธ ๐˜›๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜๐˜ด๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ท๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜บ

๐Ÿฅต ๐˜š๐˜ฑ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ฆ

๐Ÿ˜ข ๐˜ˆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ด


Kaspian doesn’t ask for much, only the undivided attention of the man he’s obsessed with. But lately Quin seems preoccupied, and when Kaspian spots him talking to a guy at work, he sees red.

Clingy, obsessive, impulsive, and sociopathic, the thought of anyone else getting Quin’s attention has Kaspian’s blood boiling.

What follows is a twisted journey filled with lies, surprises, sex, and ultimately…a bloodbath.

Twisted Valentine is a short story that follows the characters from Dysfunctional. This is a dark romance that features content not suited for everyone.


When I met him, he was my saviorโ€”a hero swooping in to lend a helping hand. I didnโ€™t know he was actually the villain.

Liar
Manipulator
Murderer

Vicente Moreno embodies it all, but he casts a spell I canโ€™t escape. There are times Iโ€™m not sure I even want to, because with him, I feel alive, even as I teeter so close to death anytime weโ€™re together.

I made a deal with the devil for my own safety, but now Iโ€™m in his lair, and heโ€™s scarier than any threat on the street. Itโ€™s wrong to want him the way I do, but Iโ€™ll happily be consumed by the flames of hell if it means an eternity with the Prince of Darkness himself.

Because when his gravelly voice asks, โ€œWho do you belong to?โ€
Thereโ€™s no hesitation when I reply, โ€œYou.โ€


The Prince of Darkness is a dark, diverse mafia romance that features an age gap, degradation, praise, violence, and a variety of kinks found in the BDSM lifestyle.


This series is an interconnected stand-alone series, taking place in a fictional town in Michigan. Theyโ€™re all gonna be hot, quick reads that feature some of your favorite tropes.

โ€ขSisterโ€™s boyfriend (M/M)

โ€ขBrotherโ€™s best friend (M/F)

โ€ขSports romance/enemies-to-lovers (M/M)

โ€ขAge Gap/Grumpy Sunshine/Dadโ€™s friend (M/M)