010 N R

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜱᴘᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

001 DEVON MILLER

⋆⭒˚.⋆ sᴛʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

SIMON GHOST RILEY

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴜꜱᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴡᴏʀʀɪᴇꜱ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

005 J L

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

003 A V

⋆⭒˚.⋆ sɪʟᴇɴᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

006 D M

⋆⭒˚.⋆ sɴᴇᴀᴋʏ ɢʟᴀɴᴄᴇs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

006 T C

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʀɪɴɢ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

005 G G

⋆⭒˚.⋆ sɪʟʟʏ ɢɪʀʟ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

011 E W

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ɴᴇᴡᴄᴏᴍᴇʀꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

009 C K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ T.W

RAFAEL REYES

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴅɪsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

001

FICTIONAL BOYFRIENDS SERIES

010 R M

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

SIMON GHOST RILEY

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀʀʏ ʟɪꜰᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

010 C A

⋆⭒˚.⋆ sᴄʀᴇᴡᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

007 D T

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

KILLIAN CARSON

⋆⭒˚.⋆ sᴀᴄʀɪꜰɪᴇᴅ ᴘᴀᴄᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

010 R M

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʜᴏꜱᴛᴀɢᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

006 T C

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴄʟᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

KILLIAN CARSON

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

010 N R

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ ᴅᴀʏ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛꜱ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

006 D M

⋆⭒˚.⋆ sᴍᴀʟʟ sᴛᴇᴘs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

008

STAND ALONES

004 D R

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴛʜᴏᴜsᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀ ᴛᴀɴᴛʀᴜᴍ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

WALTER MARSHALL

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʀᴏᴜᴛɪɴᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

003 A V

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜰɪʟᴛʜʏ ʀɪᴄʜ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

007 D T

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʙᴀʟʟꜱʏ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀꜱ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

004 D R

⋆⭒˚.⋆ sᴀꜰᴇ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

010 N R

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

010 R M

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

010 N R

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʟᴏᴜᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

004 D R

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴄʟᴜᴍꜱʏ ʟᴜᴄᴋ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

001 JACE HERMAN

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ɴᴇʀᴅ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

003 C H

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

LLOYD HANSEN

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʀᴜɪɴᴇᴅ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

008 D K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʟᴇɢᴀᴄʏ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

DEREK HALE

⋆⭒˚.⋆ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

007 D T

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ’s ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

TOBIAS EATON

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜰɪʀsᴛ ɢʟᴀɴᴄᴇs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

011

THE LAST OF US

001 BRANDON WALKER

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛʀʏ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

008 P L

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ꜱᴜɴꜱʜɪɴᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

001 SANTIAGO TORRES

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴏɴ-ᴀɴᴅ-ᴏꜰꜰ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

004 V M

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʀᴇᴛʀɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀꜱ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

008 J K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋᴇɴ ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

008 K M

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

MITCH RAPP

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴄʜᴀsɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

010 R M

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ-ᴛᴡᴏ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

008 P L

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴɪɴɢꜱ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

005 J K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜰɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

001 VLADIMIR WRAITH

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʙᴏxᴇʀ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

007 W G

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴅᴀᴍᴏɴ’s ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sɪsᴛᴇʀ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

STILES STILINSKI

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ᴅᴀᴛᴇs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

008 P L

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ɢɪʀʟ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

009 C K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʙᴇsᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs ⋆⭒˚.⋆ T.W

008 J K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜰᴏʀʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

SIMON GHOST RILEY

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅʏ ʙᴀsᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

004 D R

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴅᴀʏ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

003 A V

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇss ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

008 A W

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʙᴏss’ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

JOE GOLDBERG

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ɴᴇᴡᴇsᴛ ᴏʙsᴇssɪᴏɴ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

007

THE DEVIL’S NIGHT SERIES

006

THE DARK VERSE SERIES

009 C K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴀɴɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴀʀʏ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ D.C

008 A W

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ɪɴᴛᴇɴꜱᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

001 NICOLAS BRADLEY

Nicolas’s phone buzzed against the metal table, rattling softly. He glanced at it out of habit more than urgency, thumb brushing the clear case before he even registered the notification. Her face looked back at him from the lock screen. Not recent—one of his favorites. The photobooth strip where she was laughing too hard, head tipped back, while he looked at her instead of the camera. He’d cropped it just enough to keep her smile centered. His father liked that one so much he’d framed the original and stuck it in his office, right between certifications and invoices, like it belonged there. “You’re smiling again,” his father noted from across the shop. Nicolas didn’t deny it. “She gets out early today.” His father hummed. “Figured.” He wiped his hands and nodded toward Nicolas’s phone. “You still keeping that baby photo in there?” Nicolas instinctively touched the back of the case. Inside, tucked flat and worn at the edges, was the picture. Her as a toddler—round cheeks, big eyes, sitting on the floor with a book almost bigger than her. Her parents had shown it to him once, laughing. Nicolas had gone quiet, then asked for a copy like it mattered more than anything. “Yeah,” he said simply. “That’s her.” His father shook his head, amused. “You’re gone.” “Completely,” Nicolas replied, without shame. When she arrived, the shop shifted. It always did. She came in slower today, tired, backpack heavy with textbooks. Nicolas noticed everything: the way she pushed hair behind her ear, the faint crease between her brows. “Long day?” he asked. She nodded. “Got my grades back.” “And?” he pressed. She hesitated, then smiled small. “All As.” Nicolas let out a breath like he’d been holding it for her. “Jesus. Come here.” He kissed her—quick, proud, grounding. “I don’t know how you do it.” She shrugged. “I just study.” “You just do everything,” he corrected. She drifted toward the car he was working on, curiosity already lighting her face. “What’s wrong with this one?” Nicolas launched into the explanation, detailed, thorough. He liked showing her things. She listened like it mattered, asked sharp questions, caught on fast. When oil smeared her fingers, she frowned for half a second, then kept going. He stared at her like she’d hung the moon. “You realize,” he said, pulling out his phone, “I have more pictures of you than of anything else in my life.” She laughed. “That’s unhealthy.” “Probably,” he agreed, snapping a photo of her bent over the engine. “But I don’t care.” He showed her the screen briefly—his wallpaper, another picture of them, foreheads touching, both smiling soft. “You’re literally everywhere I look.” She flushed, ducked her head. “You’re ridiculous.” “I’m serious,” Nicolas said. “I’ve got you in my phone, in my wallet, in my dad’s office—” “My dad’s office?” she interrupted. He grinned. “Photobooth strip. He put it there himself.” Her eyes widened. “You’re joking.” “I don’t joke about you.” His father passed by then, glanced at her hands, her focus, and nodded once. “She’s doing good work.” Nicolas’s chest swelled. “Told you.” When they finished, she leaned back, tired but proud. “I helped, didn’t I?” “You always do,” Nicolas said. He kissed her again, slower this time. “You’re my favorite part of everything.” Standing there, grease-stained and quiet, Nicolas didn’t think his obsession was a flaw. It was devotion. And he carried her with him everywhere—because he already knew she was his future.

008 J K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

002 ATLAS JONES

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

004 V M

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴅʀɪɴᴋ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

RAFE CAMERON

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

005 J K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜰᴀɴ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

009 C K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ɢɪʀʟ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ D.C

004 D D

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ʟᴜɴᴄʜ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

005

THE BOYS OF TOMMEN SERIES

002 VAELOR DRAVEN

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴋɪɴɢ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

009 C K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʀᴇᴅ ᴋʀʏᴘᴛᴏɴɪᴛᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ T.W

SIMON GHOST RILEY

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜰᴏʀʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

003 R L

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋᴇɴ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

011 E W

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ ᴄʀɪꜱɪꜱ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

WILLIAM BECKHAM

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ʙʟᴜᴇs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

009 C K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ D.C

010 C A

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴍʀs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

010 C A

⋆⭒˚.⋆ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

002 AXEL REID

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ʙᴏxɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴀᴄʜ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

003 R L

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴏᴜᴅ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

002

AGE GAP BOYFRIENDS SERIES

010 C A

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋᴇɴ ᴘʀɪsᴏɴᴇʀ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

005 J K

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ɴᴏɴsᴇɴsᴇ ʀᴜᴍᴏʀs ⋆⭒˚.⋆

009

SUPERMAN CHARACTERS

005 J L

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ɢɪʀʟꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴘʀɪᴠɪʟᴇɢᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

011 J M

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

008 E M

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴄᴀʟᴍ ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

007 D T

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

JAKE RILEY

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

004

THE KINGS OF SINS SERIES

010

THE MADE SERIES

KADE RIVER

Kade had always been consistent. His routines, his tone, his expectations—they didn’t shift based on mood or circumstance. People learned quickly that what he gave was deliberate, not accidental. That included her. In the mornings, she would find him before he even fully woke up. Sometimes he would still be fastening his shirt cuffs when she appeared behind him, arms sliding around his waist with practiced ease. She never asked permission. She never needed it. Her cheek would press between his shoulder blades and she’d just stay there, like that was where she belonged. He never corrected her. Instead, he’d pause what he was doing, tilt his head slightly, and let out that quiet breath that meant he was tolerating it—but also not stopping it. She took that as permission every single time. At night, it was worse in the best possible way. She would attach herself to him like a second skin, legs tangled, arms locked around him, refusing any space between them. Even when he turned pages of documents or checked his phone, she would shift closer like distance offended her personally. And the kisses were never optional. “Five,” she’d say against his collarbone if he forgot one. He would glance at her, expression flat. “That’s not how numbers work.” “Ten, then,” she’d answer immediately, smiling like she had already won. And he would give them. He had once found her clinginess mildly amusing. Then familiar. Then, without him noticing, it became something he relied on more than he should have admitted. He had been exhausted that night. Hours of work, neck stiff, mind still halfway inside financial projections. She leaned in for her usual kiss, and he shifted slightly, rolling his shoulder to relieve tension. It broke contact for less than a second. He didn’t think about it again. She did. And after that, she changed. At first, it was subtle. She stopped attaching herself to him in the mornings. Instead of wrapping around him, she just stood nearby, hands clasped together like she was trying to resist something she used to do without effort. Then she stopped following him from room to room. Then she stopped asking for kisses entirely. Kade noticed all of it. He just didn’t understand yet. The misunderstanding came slowly, like something slipping through cracks he hadn’t known existed. He started working later than usual—not because he was distracted, but because he was clearing his schedule. Her birthday was approaching. He didn’t believe in half measures. If he was going to be present, he would be fully present. A week without interruptions, without calls, without anything pulling him away from her. So he worked longer nights. Closed deals faster. Removed obstacles from his calendar. But she didn’t know that. She only saw the late returns. The quieter greetings. The increasing space between them. And she filled that silence with her own conclusion. Someone else. That was the thought she never said out loud, but Kade saw it in the way she stopped reaching for him. In the way she no longer smiled the same when he walked into a room. In the way she began sleeping slightly farther away from him, like proximity now required permission. It irritated him more than he expected. Not because of the idea itself. But because she believed it. One night, he came home earlier than usual and found her already in bed, facing away from him. She didn’t turn when he entered. That alone made his jaw tighten slightly. Silence. Then she turned slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. “You’ve been distant.” “I’ve been working,” he corrected. “Late,” she added softly. A pause. Then she said what she had been thinking for days. “I thought maybe you didn’t want me like before.” That landed differently than anything else. Kade exhaled slowly through his nose, controlled but sharper now. “Stand up,” he said. “You’ve spent a week ignoring me,” he said. “You stopped clinging,” he said. “That’s not allowed.” A faint flicker of emotion crossed her face—uncertain, relieved, embarrassed all at once. “Now you owe me ten kisses.” He smiled.

003

THE TWISTED SERIES