Obsessed with Her: A Romance Collection

By Isla Chiu

4 sexy romance stories featuring obsessed heroes who will do anything to have the women they want! Includes Her Cookies, Blackmailed by the Jerk, Sparks Fly, and Alpha Male Blast from the Past.

HER COOKIES

He wants more than just my cookies.

The ramblings of dead philosophers put me to sleep. What doesn't put me to sleep? My very alive, very sexy Intro to Philosophy professor. I have a major crush on Professor Newhart, but of course I don't expect it to go anywhere. Because a relationship between a student and a professor? That would be so inappropriate. And I doubt that plain old me would ever catch the eye of the sexy professor.

But then he tries my cookies at a bake sale. And soon after, he's determined to also have me for dessert.

WORD COUNT: 5,700

BLACKMAILED BY THE JERK

I have a secret.

I kind of faked my perfect SAT score to get a full scholarship at Middleson University. It worked, but now I have one major problem—Rick, a wealthy jerk who looks like Zac Efron and who's blackmailing me with my lie. What does the jerk want in exchange for his silence?

My body...

SPARKS FLY

Jing doesn't want summer to end. Ryder, her best friend since forever, is going off to college in the fall. Of course, she's happy for him, but she's also already dreading life without him. However, it turns out that Ryder isn't planning for them to go their separate ways. Instead, he's planning to make Jing his.

***Celebrate the 4th of July with this sweet and sexy friends-to-lovers story!***

WORD COUNT: 7,700

ALPHA MALE BLAST FROM THE PAST

My future used to look so promising. I graduated from high school at the top of my class and got into Princeton. But then I flunked out of the Ivy League school. Now I'm prancing around in a skimpy French maid outfit while waiting on sleazy rich guys at Parisian Dream. Ag, more like Parisian Nightmare.

I don't think things could get any worse until I find myself waiting on Gerald Holland, my former best friend. And it turns out he's still a little—okay, very—salty about how I rejected him in high school. But though he acts like he hates me, he also acts like he still wants me...

WORD COUNT: 7,300

• Language: English
• Publisher: Isla Chiu
• Release date: Sep 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005754938

Isla Chiu

When I manage to tear myself away from taking Buzzfeed quizzes and watching unhealthy amounts of TV, I write romance and smut. My works feature alpha males, sexy times, and/or my sarcastic sense of humor. I hail from Cleveland, aka the best freaking city in the world, and believe LeBron James is the perfect human being. Despite all of my efforts, I have never truly been able to quit caffeine. My problematic favorites include Taylor Swift and Gone with the Wind. I love to hate/hate to love k-dramas. If I say I’m on a diet, I’m just lying to you and myself. One of these days, I'm going to get hypertension from an excess of salt, both literal and figurative. If I'm awkward around you, I probably don't know what to say to you and/or I think you're hot. And despite what anyone says, Forrest Gump so deserved that Oscar over Pulp Fiction. 

Book preview

Her Cookies

Chapter 1

Oh my God, orgasm in my mouth! Laurie lets out a none too quiet moan as she takes another bite of a white chocolate chip cookie. All too aware of how we’re out in public and of the frat guys across the quad smirking at us, I flush, cringing inside when my friend moans again. Lord, she sounds like a girl in a porno.

Your cookies are divine, Laurie says. You should open a bakery.

Thanks, I say. My eyes widen when she reaches for another cookie. Seriously, you’re going to eat another one?

Are you fat-shaming me?

I roll my eyes. You’re an incredibly beautiful girl, Laurie, and you don’t need to lose a single pound. But you have to save some food for the bake sale. We’re raising funds for our Jane Austen club. We don’t do much besides gossip and argue about who’s the best Austen hero (my favorite is Captain Wentworth. Laurie insists Mr. Darcy is the best, and Mei vouches for Mr. Knightley. However, we can all agree that Edmund Bertram sucks). The funds we raise will go toward pizza for our weekly meetings.

Ugh, fine, I won’t eat another cookie.

I’ll make you a dozen cookies tomorrow.

Laurie smiles. You’re the best, Felicity.

30 minutes later, after we’ve managed to sell some brownies, a few cupcakes, and half of the cookies, she says, I gotta go pee. Will you be fine on your own for a few minutes?

No, hold it in, I say, deadpan. The mere thought of being by myself for even a second is sending me into a whirlpool of panic.

Okay, smart-ass, I’ll be right back.

When she’s gone, I stare at the baked goods, trying to ignore the growling of my stomach. I didn’t have lunch yet, and it’s been hours since I’ve eaten breakfast. Maybe I’ll have one brownie. Why shouldn’t I enjoy the fruits of my labor? I devour a brownie. Not to toot my own horn, but damn, it is good. Laurie will give me shit if she catches me eating. I thought we were supposed to save the goods for the bake sale? she’d tease. Well, in this case, hypocrisy is scrumptious.

Hello, Felicity.

My heart beats a little faster when I see Professor Newhart standing in front of me. He teaches Intro to Philosophy, a class that I absolutely loathe and that I wouldn’t take if it wasn’t a gen ed requirement. The ramblings of dead white guys like Plato and Aristotle put me to sleep, and the only reason I can stay awake in Intro to Philosophy is because it’s taught by a very alive, very sexy white guy.

Hi, Professor Newhart, I say, hoping I’m not blushing.

Having a bake sale? He fixes his gaze on me, and I resist the urge to swoon at those hazel eyes. I need to get a grip. This guy is my professor. But lord, he’s handsome. He could pass as the long-lost Hemsworth brother.

Yes, we’re raising money for our club. Involuntarily, my eyes travel toward the crotch of his pants. Jesus, I have to remind myself to be appropriate.

He reads our sign. The Jane Austen club.

Can I interest you in buying some cookies? They’re homemade.

Sure, I’ll take two. After he hands me the cash, I give him two oatmeal cranberry cookies. He takes a bite, and his eyes get big. Christ, these are good. Did you make these?

His compliment fills me with pleasure. I did.

Did you make everything on the table?

I nod, prompting him to say, Oh, fuck it, let me buy everything.

Now my eyes get big. Did you just drop the f-bomb? I blurt out.

He chuckles. We’re both adults. We can throw a few curse words around.

But you’re my professor, I want to say. I bite my lip. I shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. It’s not like I’m in high school anymore. In college, you don’t get in trouble for saying a bad word.

He pushes a couple of bills toward me. Should this cover it?

I gape at the small stack of Andrew Jacksons. Wait, you were serious about buying everything?

What can I say? I’m obsessed with your cookies.

Am I crazy or is he flirting with me? Is it normal for professors to buy out their students’ bake sales? Perhaps Professor Newhart is just a big fan of Jane Austen. Or he wants to get into your pants, a naughty little voice whispers in my head. Thank you, I say, definitely blushing right now. I think you gave me too much money.

Don’t worry about it. I always try to support students who appreciate 19th-century literature. A corner of his mouth curves up. And I’m a sucker for anything sweet.

My fingers tremble as I pack up all of the baked goods. Is he smirking at me? As the objectively best-looking professor on campus, he’s probably used to girls acting silly around him. Here you go, I say, hating how squeaky my voice is.

Thank you, Felicity, he says. I’ll see you in class.

A sigh leaves me once he’s out of sight. Having a crush on your professor is really inconvenient. I decide that he wasn’t flirting with me. My crush was most likely causing me to read too much into things. I haven’t heard any rumors of Professor Newhart engaging in inappropriate behavior with students, and I doubt that I would tempt him into a scandalous situation.

What happened to all of the food? Laurie asks in astonishment when she returns.

Professor Newhart bought everything. I hold up the stack of 20-dollar bills, making Laurie gasp.

Holy shit! she exclaims. We are going to be able to buy so much pizza for our meetings. Isn’t Professor Newhart the philosophy hottie?

Yep.

And he bought everything? Is he trying to get into your pants?

Oh, shut up. Though that thought did cross my mind.

"Let’s call Mei and tell her that we can start buying extra-large pizzas with toppings, plural. No more plain cheese pizza! She grins. And let’s tell her that we have to prepare for a future wedding between you and Professor McHottie."

If you keep up the teasing, I might not be in the mood to bake cookies tomorrow.

Okay, I’ll shut up.

Chapter 2

At 11 PM, Mei bursts into my room. We need to go out, like, right now, she says. Put on your sluttiest dress.

Uh, I was in the middle of a Physics problem set, I say.

Fuck homework.

I lift my eyebrows. Mei works obsessively to maintain her 4.0 GPA and freaks out if she gets anything below a 95 on, well, anything. Are you okay?

I’ll be okay once I get some booze in me.

My eyebrows go even higher. Seriously, are you okay?

I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Be ready to go out in 10 minutes, or I’ll actually be upset.

I want to grill her and find out what’s bothering her, but I decide to close my Physics textbook and go along with her plans. If she wants to blow off some steam, we’ll blow off some steam.

After I get dressed, I meet Mei and Laurie in the hallway. Oh, come on! Mei exclaims. That’s the sluttiest dress you own? You’re not even showing off any cleavage!

First of all, I reply, unlike some people— I pointedly look at Mei’s D-cups—I have tiny A-cups and thus no cleavage to speak of. Second of all, this dress is shorter than knee-length.

Mei rolls her eyes. Whatever. Does everyone have their fake IDs?

Yes! Laurie and I say.

We hit up McGuffy’s, the closest bar to our dorm. Because it’s one-dollar beer night, the place is packed.

Laurie holds up a 10-dollar bill. First few rounds are on me. Let’s get drunk on mediocre beer!

Mei and I whoop.

When Laurie goes to fetch us drinks, Mei glares at something in the corner. I follow the direction of her gaze and see a guy staring at her. He looks like the stereotypical frat douche with his pink polo shirt, chino pants, the sunglasses on his head, and the smirk on his handsome—but very punchable—face. Who’s that? I ask. Do you know him?

He’s some jerk I’m hooking up with, she mutters.

Why are you hooking up with a jerk?

It’s complicated.

Is he the reason why Mei wanted to blow off some steam? Before I can ask, Mei says, Jesus Christ, as Frat Douche begins walking toward us. Excuse me. She marches up to him, looking pissed. He wraps a possessive arm around her waist, whispering something into her ear. She lets out a deep sigh, then mouths to me, I have to go.

Um, what? I mouth back.

All she mouths is, Sorry.

What is going on? I frown as Frat Douche takes Mei out of McGuffy’s. Why would she hook up with a guy like that? Maybe he’s good in bed,