
Eighteen Below Him
8.1 / 10.0
Share
Samira James has two weeks left.
Two weeks until she turns eighteen.
Two weeks until everything changes.
And a few months left trapped in high school with the boy she hates most.
Calvin Simms has been her enemy for as long as she can remember. Popular, untouchable, and the living reminder of a childhood misunderstanding neither of them ever corrected. Their interactions are sharp, heated, and carefully controlled.
Until they aren't.
As months pass, tension replaces silence.
Jealousy replaces indifference.
And lines blur where hatred once lived.
With rivals watching, secrets resurfacing, and temptation growing harder to ignore, Samira must decide if sticking to her rules is worth denying what her body and her heart are already choosing.
Because some mistakes feel too good to stop.
And sometimes...
you don't fall for the person you want.
You fall for the one you swore to hate.
Eighteen Below Him Chapter 1
Samira's POV
"I'm telling you, babe. College is going to be wild, and you're going to need experience to survive it." Amanda said with absolute confidence.
I scoffed. The logic was hollow and made zero sense.
"It's almost exam season." Novia added, her eyes brightening as if she had just decoded the secrets of the universe. "You have from now until summer break to at least get a boyfriend."
I rolled my eyes hard enough to feel the strain. "Shouldn't we be focused on exams and getting into a decent university?" I asked, taking a thick bite of my burrito.
We were tucked into our usual booth at the downtown diner. The cracked red vinyl of the seats poked at my legs, and the overhead lighting was a permanent, hazy amber that made everything look like an old photograph. The milkshakes were thick, sugary masterpieces that tasted better than they had any right to. Saturday evenings here had become a sacred, predictable routine for us.
Amanda groaned at my practicality while Novia dramatically slumped her weight against the booth.
"Besides..." I said, shifting my weight so I faced them fully, "Why are you two pushing me into a relationship when neither of you is dating anyone? That's hypocrisy."
They exchanged a look. It was a slow, knowing communication that was far too smug for my comfort. I let out a long sigh. That particular expression never signaled anything good for my future.
"What?" I asked.
Novia shoved a salty fry into her mouth and clapped her hands together. "Because, dear best friend, you have never been in a relationship. We have."
"And we don't want you going into college completely clueless," Amanda added. "You wouldn't even know how to respond if a guy showed interest."
I stared at them, flat and unimpressed. "You do realize this is bullying, right?"
"No, it's not." they said together.
"It absolutely is." I shot back. "It's peer pressure."
My voice must have carried across the small space because the ambient chatter of the diner suddenly dipped into silence. I turned away immediately, becoming very invested in the swirling whipped cream of my milkshake.
They giggled and pivoted to school gossip without missing a beat, whispering about social dramas that I had no interest in following. I stared out the large diner window to tune out the noise, and that was when the atmosphere shifted.
Four boys stepped out of a sleek black car, moving with a coordinated ease that made it seem like the world was built to make space for them.
My eyes found him without effort.
Calvin Simms.
He walked with an effortless, predatory confidence, hands tucked into his pockets and his posture perfectly relaxed. Raven hair fell in dark silk over his forehead, and at six foot one, he loomed over the sidewalk. He was annoyingly handsome. Unfairly so.
Too bad I couldn't stand the sight of him.
I was about to look away when he stopped mid-stride and turned his head. His gaze landed directly on me.
I looked away so fast my neck muscles protested the movement.
Shit.
Why was he staring? We never spoke. That had been the unspoken, comfortable agreement for years.
Except for that one project we had been forced to work on together. We earned an A+, but every step of the process had been miserable. Heated arguments replaced actual cooperation, and sharp insults hid behind layers of thinly veiled sarcasm. It was a miracle we survived the semester without a physical altercation.
"The guys are here." Novia whispered loudly.
Amanda quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. "Stop. They can hear you."
Both of them were suddenly red-faced and flustered, their bravado from earlier vanishing.
I laughed quietly. Amanda had a massive, long-standing crush on Chris, and Novia had been obsessed with Denver for as long as I could remember. Unfortunately for my friends, all four boys had a specific reputation. Serious relationships were not their thing.
That was when I felt it again. The prickling sensation of someone watching me.
I followed the feeling and met Calvin's gaze through the glass a second time. His expression was unreadable. It was calm and distant, which was different from the way he usually went out of his way to avoid looking at me altogether.
Why was he acting so strange?
Calvin Simms. Frederick Myers. Chris Jackson. Denver Andrews.
The untouchables of Trenton High.
I scowled, rolled my eyes, and forced myself to turn away.
"I'm ready to go." I said.
Both girls stared at me like I had just uttered something deeply offensive.
"Please close your mouths." I added lightly. "Your crushes might be watching."
"I need the bathroom." Amanda muttered, her confidence replaced by a sudden shyness.
We tossed our trash and headed inside toward the back. The bathroom was cramped, barely holding the three of us in the small, tiled space. Novia checked both stalls for privacy then turned on me.
"What was that about, Sam?" she demanded.
"What was what?" I asked, shrugging as I stepped into a stall.
She was not dropping the subject.
"This is not over." Novia warned, pointing a finger at the door before disappearing into the stall beside mine.
I exhaled slowly. Why was this such a big deal? We exchanged a look through a window. That was all.
Outside, the cool evening air hit us as Amanda unlocked the car. Novia claimed the shotgun seat, so I slid into the familiar shadows of the backseat.
"I saw the way you two looked at each other." Novia said excitedly as we pulled away. "Do you think he's interested in you?"
I grimaced at the thought. "Absolutely not."
"Oh, he likes you." she insisted.
Amanda met my eyes in the rearview mirror, her expression thoughtful. "I don't know. It wasn't flirty. Calvin didn't show any emotion, but this is the first time I've seen him openly stare at you. And Sam, you've always hated him, but you've never really said why."
Amanda had always been the observant one. She noticed the smallest shifts in tone and the details most people ignored.
I leaned back, genuinely amused. "That was a whole lot of nothing, Amanda. I expected better logic from our reasonable friend."
Novia groaned into the headrest. "You're useless."
I smiled to myself as we pulled out of the parking lot and the diner faded into the distance.
A whole lot of nonsense.
Or so I thought.
Continue Reading
Eighteen Below Him of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels

8.1
Elinor's frail daughter, Cece, died in a sterile hospital room while waiting for her father to take her to Disney World.
But her billionaire husband, Derick, never showed up. At the exact moment Cece's heart monitor flatlined, the hospital TV broadcasted Derick affectionately holding the hand of his mistress and he has booked a clearance of the entire Disneyland to celebrate mistress's daughter's birthday!.
When Elinor confronted Derick with their daughter's ashes, he sneered and accused her of hiding the child just to get his attention. Elinor's heart was torn to shreds. How could a father be so blind and ruthless? Did Kamryn use his power to steal the very kidney that belonged to Cece? Why did her innocent baby have to die for their sick affair?
The suffocating grief inside Elinor finally crystallized into a sharp blade. She wiped the blood from her lips, canceled the simple divorce, and began her ruthless revenge.

8.6
I woke up choking on rotting air in an alien jungle, surrounded by giant bioluminescent ferns and a three-eyed, armor-plated beast charging straight at me.
Before the monster could tear me apart, I was saved by a squad of men with metallic wings and laser rifles, but my nightmare was just beginning.
When they brought me back to their high-tech military base, every soldier we passed stopped dead, staring at me with a feverish, starving hunger that made my skin crawl.
In the medical wing, a manic doctor bypassed all protocol, pulling out a wicked silver needle to forcibly extract my blood, looking at me not as a patient, but as a winning lottery ticket.
Even their highest-ranking commander, a giant, scarred Admiral, immediately tried to claim me, demanding I be moved into his personal bedroom for "protection."
I didn't understand why I was being treated like a caged miracle, nor why a simple, accidental touch of my hand could bring my winged protector to his knees and silence his feral instincts.
"In the Aethel Empire, there are no females," my protector whispered, his icy blue eyes filled with raw desperation. "You are the only one."
The portal that brought me here was fading, trapping me in a universe of eighty billion shapeshifting Alpha males. Looking at the terrifying devotion in his eyes, I realized my life as an ordinary human was over, and to survive this, I had to tame the beasts.

8.0
Finley's stepfather gave her a sickening ultimatum: marry her predatory stepbrother Shane tonight, or he would throw her fragile mother out on the street.
To escape this hell, she used a matchmaking agency and hastily married a complete stranger. Garrison Strickland claimed to be an ordinary data analyst making $95,000 a year, driving a beat-up Honda Civic, and needing a wife in name only. They got their marriage license at City Hall that very afternoon.
But when Finley returned home to pack her bags and threw the certificate on the table, her family just laughed. Dozier ordered Shane to drag her into the bedroom to "teach her a lesson" and trap her forever.
"Come on, little sister," Shane crooned, lunging at her. "Don't fight it."
Finley's own mother just stared at the floor, blaming Finley for ruining the family, watching blindly as Shane cornered her.
Terrified and desperate, Finley smashed an ashtray over Shane's head and frantically dialed her new husband's number. Shane snatched the phone, mocking the "imaginary husband" before the line went dead. Finley felt a bottomless despair. Garrison was just a normal guy; he would never risk his life against her violent family. She was completely on her own, waiting for the end.
Suddenly, deafening bangs echoed through the house, and Garrison stepped into the living room radiating a cold, terrifying fury. This supposedly "frugal data analyst" effortlessly snapped Shane's wrist, leveled a ruthless death threat that made Dozier tremble, and whisked Finley away in a waiting Bentley. Looking at the powerful man beside her, Finley's heart raced: just who exactly had she married today?

8.6
Today was my father's grand second wedding, but for me, it was the anniversary of my mother's death.
My new stepmother, Marley, who was only four years older than me, cornered me. To establish her dominance as the new Luna, she ordered her servants to force me to my knees and violently ripped my late mother's necklace from my neck.
It was the only memento my mother had left me. Marley sneered, threw it to the ground, and shattered the gems. When I scrambled to pick up the broken pieces, she dug her high-heeled shoe into the back of my hand, mocking me as dirty trash. No one stepped in to help. My father was too busy celebrating his new marriage under the dazzling lights, completely erasing my mother's memory and leaving me to be abused in my own pack.
My heart was full of grievance and despair. Why did my mother's lifelong devotion end with her grave desolate and her daughter humiliated? I swore I would never become a weak, discarded she-wolf whose life depended on a man.
Desperate to escape the suffocating wedding, I ran outside and stumbled right into the chest of a terrifying stranger.
"No one should ever touch what is precious to you."
His golden eyes blazed with fury as sparks instantly shot through my veins. He was Kade Blackwood, the ruthless Alpha of the feared Blood Moon Pack—and my fated mate.

8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."

7.9
Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster.
During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde.
When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability.
Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair—the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave?
Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket.
"What are you looking at, Foster?"
Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.











