Mayday Coldrain

Mayday! Mayday!! It's about to go down. You are not ready for the chaos..... This story Looks into the life of Cassie. Oh sweet Cassie, at least that's what her parents think she is. To her friends she is Cass, but not sweet, She is Cool, Cool cass. Introverted by default yet selectively extroverted. Everyone wishes they were like her. She was adored by many both the good and the bad. She had a bevvy of friends or should I say, mere acquaintances. She has made lots of mistakes in the past and has always had the comfort of blaming them on the fact that she was young... "She is just a kid" like her mom would say to her dad. But that's about to end. She is going to be 18 soon, in a few months. "No more excuses this time Cass," she tells herself. But she is sure to fuck it up once more... The boys, the drugs, the alcohol, the bad friends and the good ones. She seems to be good at being bad, Even though it happens to be unintentional. Will she drown in it all or will she find redemption in the end?

In her first life, Elu accepted the role of being a fake princess until her deception caught up to her. She then finds herself trapped in a time loop where she regresses back to her past. In order to end the time loop she must find out why she keeps regressing and why she is the catalyst for the destruction of the empire. Breaking the loop seems impossible. "Remember this. The only traitor here is standing in front of me. It’s your heart that lies, your majesty." A light novel.

Mabel "Maybe" Willis died a virgin at the very young age of twenty-four. She leaves behind her parents, Betty and Bruce, her brother, Evan, a laptop filled with one too many Jason Momoa memes, and a Kindle library with more books than one human being could ever finish in a lifetime. Cause of death: a text message. Okay. So, I didn't die. But I may as well have. One minute, I'm a woman trying to find her way in the world, and the next, I'm the sender of six of the most embarrassing text messages that have ever been sent in the history of time--or the cell phone. Whatever. We're talking code red, send a flipping mayday, the apocalypse is coming kind of texts. And I didn't just send them to some random person I'll never see again. No. That would be too easy. I sent them to Milo Ives. The man who played a starring role in all of my teenage fantasies--and my brother's lifelong best friend. And, boy oh boy, has he grown up. He's hard-bodied, blue-eyed, jawline-of-stone handsome, crazy successful, and has more money in his bank account than my brain can fathom. Deflower me, please? I said. Yeah. Send help.