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Books saved my life after losing my parents as a teenager. Now as a librarian, sharing books with teens to get them through hard times is a privilege and joy. So imagine my surprise when I meet Prescott, a man who values the same things as me. He runs the teen outreach center and is giving his life to make the world a better a place. It’s like we’re a match made in heaven. After a whirlwind night where love is at the tip of both our tongues, I learn that maybe we aren’t the same after all… I wanted him to check me out on a long-term loan, but maybe it’s too good to be true. Maybe we better shelve this romance before both our hearts get broken. His Curvy Librarian is a new filthy-sweet series brought to you by Frankie Love and Kaylin Evans. It’s full of heat, heart, and literary innuendo. What’s sexier than a man who loves to read? How about a naked man who loves to read?

" You are no one to me, you are nothing, and don't ever expect anything from me. You were bought here to play the part of a Luna and gratify my sexual desire," My Mate and new alpha said, with no remorse or any kind of affection in his gaze, tears well in my eyes but I refused to cry for the man who beds other women in my presence. I look him in the eyes and answer; " Yes," " No," He growls " Yes, Alpha," I repeat and he walks past me, once he's out of my sight, my legs give up just as tears roll down my cheeks. ... " You're pregnant, Luna, congratulations," My world stopped as I looked at the doctor, she was happy that the pack would have an heir, but I wasn't, you can't be when you've suffered so much at the hands of your fated mate. I ran, I ran and ran but it wasn't far enough for the mighty alpha.

A box-set full of heat, heart, and literary innuendo. TALK WORDY TO ME Chuck McArthur is a tall, dark, and handsome man who happens to love books as much as I do. He calls me Cookie, just like his gramps, and I’m more than eager for him to have a taste. Luckily for me, he likes a woman with some curves, and lucky for him, his dirty talk is quickly becoming my favorite sound. CHECK HER OUT Preston and I are a match made in heaven. After a whirlwind night where love is at the tip of both our tongues, I learn that maybe we aren’t the same after all…I wanted him to check me out on a long-term loan, but maybe it’s too good to be true. Maybe we better shelve this romance before both our hearts get broken. CAN’T HELP MY SHELF Army officer Nash Nichols walks into the children’s section of the library where I work, and changes my trajectory forever. Falling in love sounds sweet and all, but my eyes have always been on another prize: being a mother. Maybe I will get my own version of a happily ever after … or maybe my heart will be broken in ways I didn’t see coming. His Curvy Librarian is a filthy-sweet series brought to you by Frankie Love and Kaylin Evans. It’s full of heat, heart, and literary innuendo. What’s sexier than a man who loves to read? How about a naked man who loves to read?

Welcome to my story. This book is a mere collection of nightmares, without any pretensions but to let you enter the intricate folds of my mind. I think everyone has experienced nightmares in their life, whether asleep or awake; I can well say I am an impressive expert on sleeping terrors. Close-eyed nightmares are my personal curse: I have been having them since I was a child, and I could never explain the reason why. My childhood was always related to the fear that something catastrophic was about to happen, either to me or to the people I loved. I usually felt something akin to a cold breath on my neck that made my hair stand on end; that icy, slimy hand touching your back which makes you startle, aghast. Oftentimes my vision went completely dark, so that I had to go and lie down on my bed in order to feel more at ease; yet, even entering my bedroom I dreaded what would happen when I finally closed my eyes. Things did not improve at all in my teen years: every time, soon after a dream I woke up in a sweat, shivering. After such nights I obviously had to face life again like everyone else, though still doubtful about my future; but it was whenever I had personal choices to make, that the nightmares worsened. At those times my life easily became hell; I closed myself off entirely and always wondered what I had achieved so far and what I wanted next from my life. Over time I have come to write my dreams down in order to understand them, alongside my wishes, to see if they come true. This has helped me shed some light more than once. But back to nightmares. I then thought to myself that I would tell you all about my terrors, embellishing each one and including them in a collection of every spine-chilling thrill I have ever experienced. I apologise for this chilly gift on my part, but my mind likewise is as cold and messy a place. It is the mind of a woman, of a fighter who openly faced evil, and chose to talk about it. Though my words could sometimes wound the more susceptible souls, I do not mean to claim the moral high ground over any of you. Everyone has their own worldview; we feel and shape everything around us accordingly. And after all the ordeals I have endured through life, I now strive to use my inner eye in order to create a more fruitful vision of the future. I would like to see a future full of dreams, studies, travels: dreams are basically wishes our hearts make. As to nightmares, though... Close-eyed nightmares have always been my speciality, and there are several reasons behind this phenomenon, but the main one is probably that I am a tolerant person, yet emotional and sensitive; over the course of my life I have in fact experienced both thorns in my side and many a rainy day. But I have always sought light to illustrate this part of me, so I will tell you of my favourite poem: Mother to Son, by Langston Hughes.

On my 18th Birthday, My twin sister married my mate, Alpha Jacob, in my name. I was Alisa Clark, the she-wolf with the purest blood. The Alphas must feed on my blood. They were blessed with great power while they were cursed. The greater their abilities, the shorter their lives. My blood protected them from their curse Yet, my twin Jennifer took away my glory and had me tortured for 6 years! Worse still, My mate allowed it ** "You've been like a pig for us. He can smell you down here. He's known this whole time." She took out a mirror and held it up to my face. " You think he would ever accept such an ugly mate like this pig." I hadn't seen myself since I was twelve, vibrant and healthy. I was a child then, and now I looked like a ghost. My face was hollow and pale like a sick person. I saw the scar on my face, it burned and had inflamed my cheek so that it was swollen. My eyes were red from the tears. My hair was dull and limp over my skull. My purple eyes were the only piece of me that still held some semblance of life. I could see scars even on my neck, and I knew that my body was even more scarred, and even more pathetic... "How dare you be so stupid." Jennifer said. "How dare you think the Alpha wants you for more than your blood. Imagine him mating with you, when he could have me."

The night I meet Stella, everything changes. Somehow in the course of an evening, this sexy city girl not only gets my mountain man c*ck, but she captures my heart. I have to have her. But the next day, it all comes to a crashing halt. Literally. My life isn’t just mine anymore—now I have my brother’s babies to think about. Our lives were already going in different directions … I have to show her this mountain is the place she belongs. Darling Reader, This story has true love written all over it. It’s dirty, sexy, and WILD(ER) than the last. The cast from TIMBER and BUCKED are back in this novella that was written with you in mind. Treat yourself, sweetie! xo, frankie

Everyone thinks I’m sour but really, I’m just lonely. I’m twenty-four years old and have never been in love. How could I? I’m Lemon Rough -- a girl with five protective brothers who don’t believe any man in this town is good enough for me. For my birthday I’ve requested one thing -- alone time. I packed my car with books and wine for a solo trip at the family cabin on Stout Lake. When I arrive I find we have a new neighbor. A shirtless, muscular, and ridiculously handsome neighbor. Hey, maybe this will be the best birthday ever. Except before Anchor and I can skip straight to blowing out the candles, my brothers crash the party. My family is everything to me, but they are seriously getting in the way. And the neighbor I’m falling for? I’m scared he’ll be swimming to shore because my family is nothing but rough water. Coming Home to the Mountain is a new filthy-sweet, high heat series by Frankie Love featuring rugged mountain men who fall hard, fast and forever. And with the women they love at their side, they choose to put family first. In this series, Dad shows up, sisters remember to call, big brothers always look out for you, and Mom knows to keep an extra seat at the table for Sunday dinner. Not every family is perfect -- and the Rough family has its own set of problems -- but at the end of the day, they know what matters: Coming Home.

This diary is my fourth book, a collection of twenty compositions representing the thought and certainties of our modern age. Tales about a not very distant past that could be identified with today's reality, the present not reviewed journalistically, people who do not have common public representations, too busy in a certain sense to think what they could never do, until what was taken away from them to not understand a contemporary good or evil. You also tell autobiographical stories like personal experiences with others or possessions, peace and pain, miracles, love and friendships.<br><br>This diary is the fourth book written by me, a collection of twenty compositions representing the thought and certainties of our modern age. Tales about a not very distant past that could be identified with today's reality, the present not reviewed journalistically, people who do not have common public representations, too busy in a certain sense to think what they could never do, until what was taken away from them to not understand a contemporary good or evil. You also tell autobiographical stories like personal experiences with others or possessions, peace and pain, miracles, love and friendships. Do you declare yourself and the world as a hobby or sport or? You need to declare yourself and the world according to your own experiences in concrete human and material relationships. It is a diary written in a simple way, a phenotype of Christian and present feelings, it wants to represent a door to the future, a new party. The period of letters reaches from August 2010 to May 2013.

The night was dark. Suddenly, a great glow came through the window and such clarity flooded the room that woke me up. Amazed, I looked everywhere. What was going on? I rubbed my eyes and I really didn´t know if I was still asleep and that was a dream. I sat up in bed. I had to see what was happening because I did not understand what had happened. Trying to wake up a bit, I put my feet on the floor and the coldness of the tiles ended up waking me up. I saw that I was in my bedroom and was still at night. Through the window, nothing could be seen, only darkness, not a single star in the sky could be seen. But in my head, still dazed, I remembered what had woken me up. Although I didn´t know what it had been, a feeling came to my mind, something like a great light, or a glow, maybe it would be a flash light.  

No one could have told me, and if they had, I would not have believed them, that I would be a writer, considering how difficult it was for me to read as a child. Despite this, circumstances had forced me to this profession, since having as much time as I had now, locked up for life, I wouldn't have much else to do. It is true that some prisoners were engaged in exercising in the yard, and besides studying in the library, the weakest of them took training courses, but all of them have something that I do not have, an ideal to fight for and move forward. With a sentence of a few months or even years, it is easy to think that the preparation will serve them well for something, and that it will be easier to make a living outside this prison, but in my case, with the certainty that I will never step outside again, what's the point of getting ready?