Damsel[ed] Some Rescue Required

Damsel[ed] Some Rescue Required

m i c h e l l e p a k

4.8
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The gang is back, and they're in more danger than ever. After all they've been through, Angel, Gats, Heaven, and Jay just want to kick back and relax, but that may not be possible. The world of supers around them is about to plunge into chaos...

Damsel[ed] Some Rescue Required Chapter 1

So. I couldn"t focus on The Prince"s Guard with Angelos sitting or, well, sleeping (har har har) on the backburner. So I"m shifting my efforts to this book.

New Update Schedule (Unless otherwise stated)-

Wednesday: Damsel[ed]: Some Rescue Required Update

Thursday: N/A

Friday: N/A

Saturday: Damsel[ed]: Some Rescue Required Update

Sunday: Stolen Souls Update

Monday: N/A

Tuesday: N/A

And that"s it. Happy Reading, you guys!

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Stolen Souls (boy x boy)

Stolen Souls (boy x boy)

LGBT+

4.7

They're out to get you. You, yes, you, skimming this summary in your MoboReader App. They want your flesh. And they want your soul. (Let's just call it Teen Vampire Slayer intuition.) Now, that might sound crazy. And I get it. Vampire stuff is pretty crazy stuff to begin with. But maybe you've noticed something off. The lady sizing you up at the coffee shop, the librarian scowling at you in the corner, that one guy at the DMV who turned into a bat and attacked you by the decorative license plate display. Or maybe you're just a kid like me, wanting to get into a college like me, never asking to get dragged into this mess in the first place like me. You don't care about the dumb vampires. Or the eternal darkness. Or the missing kids. Well, okay. That's cool. I'll write and you try to keep up. I'm your guide, Shiro. Grayson Shiro, or Star Shirozaki if you want to get all into the awful birth name business. I turn fifteen in two weeks. That may sound neat to you. In some cultures, when a boy turns fifteen he gets a party or superpowers or some sort of "Yeah, manhood!" ceremony. Me? I get to die. And maybe you will, too. I have two weeks to steal back my soul from blood-sucking vampires before I crumble into dust. My partner, very dead and very stubborn, has maybe three. It's a deadly game, but one we have to play for our fates and the fate of a city about to be swallowed up in a pit of eternal darkness. So buckle up. Welcome to the team, vampire slayer. - Shiro

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The Scars She Hid From The World

The Scars She Hid From The World

REGINA MCBRIDE
4.5

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

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