Blake J.R.
Blake J.R.'s Book(1)
The Rewrite of Me
Short stories After surviving a life shadowed by silence, betrayal, and sacrifice, Elara Wynthorpe doesn't seek revenge-she seeks reclamation. Her first act of freedom? Spending five billion dollars on an uncharted island no one else wanted.
The official managing the transaction was speechless. The island was remote-absent from GPS, untouched by tourism, and isolated from even the faintest signal of civilization.
"Ms. Wynthorpe," he said carefully, "are you sure? Once you're there, the world won't follow."
With a quiet certainty in her voice, Elara answered, "Good. I don't want to be found."
Because for Elara, disappearing isn't defeat-it's reinvention.
And in the silence of the sea, she will rewrite not just her fate, but her voice, her art, and the echoes of others who need a place to begin again. You might like
His Nasty Little Virgin
viviane *Warning* This book contains explicit content and it's rated 18+. They can be read as standalone as they are all age-gap romances.
Hope y'all are ready for a pleasant ride.
xoxo.
"Oh, please, sir. Please, fuck me!" I screamed in delirium.
The heat from him disappeared for a moment, and I was sad and scared. Where did he go? What had I done wrong now? But he returned, sheathed and ready to plunge into me.
"Oh, thank God," I said breathlessly.
He chuckled a little; slowly he slid in, adjusting me on the sink, aligning me to his dick. Each thrust sent me further into a manic need to come. Perhaps I was screaming, because his hand covered my mouth. For a brief moment, I was frightened. I was panting so hard it blocked my need to breathe, but then his voice was in my ear.
"Come for me, bluebird."
Too Late For Regret, Mr. Vanderbilt
Gavin The sterile scent of rubbing alcohol was too familiar. For five years, I'd been pregnant with Ethan Vanderbilt’s child, only to lose them, each time beneath the gaze of his wife.
This time, Olivia, his wife, stood over me, a cruel smile pasted on her face, a gleaming needle in her hand. Ethan watched from the doorway, just like always. After the screams and excruciating pain, I lost not only my baby but also my ability to ever have children again following a forced hysterectomy.
The news broke my father, who leaped to his death because he couldn't bear my torment. At his funeral, Olivia forced me to my knees, then kicked me relentlessly until my surgical wounds burst, leaving me bleeding uncontrollably. She even took photos of my battered body, laughing as she suggested I sell myself to pay for his burial. Then, she deliberately scattered his ashes into the mud.
How could Ethan, the man I once loved, stand by and watch me endure such depravity? Why was I trapped in this living hell, systematically tortured, robbed of my children, my body, and now my father, all based on some horrifying, unknown lie?
As Olivia rained blows upon my head in the pouring rain, her hateful laughter echoing, I fumbled for my phone. There was one person who knew the true story behind Olivia’s venom, the real reason for her twisted revenge. With my last breath, I pressed record. His Terminal Illness, Her Eternal Penance.
Gavin Ava Miller had it all: society status, designer clothes, and a marriage to Liam Carter, her quiet, long-suffering husband whom she openly despised, often favoring her charming ex, Noah.
In his final months, battling a terminal illness, Liam made one desperate request: five shared "experiences" before their divorce. Ava endured them with bitter indifference, fueled by Noah’s constant disdain.
After Liam's quiet death, his friend, Ben, meticulously engineered revelations: Liam was "Cipher," a renowned hidden artist, whose private works hauntingly depicted Ava, each stroke a testament to his profound, unrequited love.
The truth shattered Ava: the man she tortured was her silent devotee, while Noah, her trusted confidant, was a lifelong deceiver who actively orchestrated her scorn, even impersonating Liam to gain credit for his selflessness.
Consumed by agonizing guilt and explosive rage, Ava lured Noah to a desolate, abandoned cellar, locking him inside to face a slow, agonizing demise. Now imprisoned, reading Liam's unedited journals, she finally confronts the immeasurable love she destroyed, embarking on a desolate penance for the love she recognized too late.