Let's turn back time, one page at a time...
Coming in this October
What if the future is predetermined and nothing you do can change it?
All he wanted was to go back to the future, but that also meant living in a world without her.
-Genre:
Time Travel romance, Time slip
Visit my Blog
I share my book-writing updates, short stories, and poems. Oh, I also post about movies and music (especially from the '50s to the '90s), book reviews, and everyday life musings. If any of this sounds good to you, swing by and take a look!
Standalone short stories
All she wanted was a peaceful life, but fate loved to play evil games.
-Genre:
Paranormal romance; vampire, Romance in uniform; Policeman
Kaito picked Akemi, an oversize girl, in a goukon because no one else did.
-Genre:
YA contemporary, holiday story
Sometimes, it only takes one person to make your dreary world feel meaningful.
-Genre:
Time Travel romance, Time slip, historical
Love, Die, Live short trilogy
A story of loss, love and reincarnation.
A disease that killed her mother is now coming for her like a nightmare.
Have you ever thought about having a second shot at life?
Life isn’t a fairytale. It doesn’t always have a "happy ever after" for everyone.
The Flame Squad series
Short stories about the members a vigilante group called The Flame Squad.
Blaze’s life had gone exactly according to plan. There was just one thing left: kill his wife and get her wealth.
Falling in love is not a part of the plan, but the heart is the hardest thing to fight.
She no longer want to live between secrets and shadows but an encounter with Efrain, made her decide to plunge into darkness once more.
About
I’m a Filipina romance author who loves using tropes like found families, cheerful characters with dark experiences, goofy, adorkable, and brooding heroes/heroines.I mostly write stories with time travel and paranormal elements, but I’ve published a few contemporary ones and have more than a dozen in my drafts. Those are complete crap, and the mere thought of rewriting them makes me want to pull my hair out.As a kid, I wanted to be a doctor, but when I developed a fear of blood after a traumatizing experience of being forced to watch The Omen Trilogy by my parents' religion when I was eight, I decided it's better to be a lawyer. However, financial restraints aside, it was obvious that my temper would land me in prison instead. So, I proposed to my husband and moved out of the Philippines.I often daydream of traveling through time, but this dream is more impossible than the first two, so I did the next best thing. I write about them and send my lucky characters on adventures that I should be having.The first time-travel story I’d written was FUMES VARIOLAS during the National Novel Writing Month in 2013 (not published yet). However, IN ANOTHER TIME was the first story idea I came up with back in 2006 while driving on the autobahn in Germany. It was during one of our many cross-country road trips from Spain to Norway. I wrote no notes for it, but the story lived in my head. I wrote many other romances through the years before I finally sat down and wrote it in 2019. It's scheduled for release on October 17, 2024.As a reader, I love reading different types of fiction but I avoid gory and certain horror stories. You can probably guess why. I have a strong affection for animals and nature. I live near the Mediterranean coast with my family and enjoy spending my time reading and falling in love with fictional characters. I also enjoy watching movies, telenovelas, Asian dramas, and anime while eating noodles with chopsticks and drooling over the 70s, 80s, and 90s music videos.When I'm not writing or reading, you can usually catch me on Instagram and occasionally posting a short story on my blog.
Contact
I love talking about books and other common favorites. Or even if you want to contact me for another reason, please write ahead! 😀
I might be late at times, but expect me to reply unless it’s a spam message.
Prologue
-Just Like him-
November 9th, 1955, Alicante JailEighteen-year-old Celestina gripped her handbag tighter as she stepped inside an eerie stone corridor, a single guard leading her toward one of the cells. He called through the bars to the man inside, who sat up on the metal bed and raised his head.Celestina staggered back.The guard put a gloved hand on her elbow. “¿Estás bien?”She wanted to say “Si, I’m okay” and hide her emotion but her lips locked and her eyes widened when the prisoner turned his handsome oval face toward her. Her breath caught as her heartbeat sped up on seeing his dark-gray, hooded eyes—just as she remembered them from eleven years ago—but when a sneer appeared on his bow-shaped lips, she withered inside. This wasn’t the same man who raised her.He got to his feet and place his hand on the bar separating them. “¡Hola! Hermosita,” he said, the disgusting smile never leaving his face.She hated his insulting compliment. Hated how his eyes traveled down the length of her body. She struggled not to squirm, feeling as if an army of ants had crawled under her skin. But she endured it, looking him straight in the eyes. “¿Eres Ángel Castro Rivera?”The man’s face lit up, his leer widening into a menacing smile. “Si.”She swallowed, her throat sore from doing it so many times since leaving Beniardà. “Soy, Celestina. Hija de Maria Josefa De la Mota.”Ángel’s smile faded for a second before returning. “Well,” he drawled, his flirty tone gone, “daughter of Maria Josefa, why are you here?”“I’m your daughter.”
He looked at the guard, who shifted and turned toward the exit, but Celestina grabbed the hem of his uniform jacket, forcing him to stay.
Ángel sighed. “So, mi hija, what do you want from me?”Good question. What did she want from him? Her mother turned thirty-three two months ago and, in her drunkenness, told her where her biological father was and that he looked just like her papá. And so, here she was after so much trouble proving her identity and so much preparation.The corners of her eyes stung, and her stomach churned. Ángel not only looked like the man who lovingly raised her, he sounded just like him. And worse, they shared the same name.
Her mother warned her that this man, her father, would never care about her or why she existed. Maria Josefa was right, this man and her papá looked identical, but she was wrong about everything else. They were not the same at all. Her papá was caring, but this father in front of her was a criminal. A prisoner. Murderer. He’d taken multiple lives and was nothing like her papá.What was she even doing here?“I wouldn’t mind having some fun with your body,” he said as she turned on her heel, “just as I did with your mom. Although she was years younger than you then. She was what, uh, catorce? Si, si, she was fourteen. Oh, how good she felt.”Celestina turned back, raising her bag. Because of this brute, she never knew a mother’s love. Because of him, both she and her mother suffered every day. She needed to hit him at least once to release years of pent-up anger. But the guard grabbed her arm.
“Time to go,” he said.“¡Monstruo! I hope you die here!” She almost growled as the guard pulled her away.
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