353 Book(s) Related to novel wolf hall

The darkness in his eyes, the dangerous smell of alcohol in his breath, and his deathly grip keeping me bound to him made my heart pound in my chest and my body quiver beneath him. Shamefully, it wasn’t anything that I wasn’t used to, because…the things I let him do to me?

When he was frustrated, annoyed, and angry at the world, I was here to be his pound of flesh. In return, he masked the void of my loneliness because for months, that was the transaction of our relationship. He’d pin me to the wall, bend me over the counter, pull my hair, slap me, choke me, and I enjoyed every second of it because in that moment, it finally felt good to be powerless.

Irony is a funny thing. I enjoyed being in pain because it made me forget how much I was hurting.


“I warned you, doll.” His voice strikes a string of chills down the base of my spine, a reminder that all of the time in the world could pass, and he’s still not letting go.

This is where the good girl in me dies.

“You’re mine now,” he whispers.


My name is Mercy—Mercy Carter. I went to college. Got myself a useless Bachelor of Science in Mathematics degree.

His name is Marcel—Marcello Saldívar. However, at the time, I didn’t know that he, the heir to the Saldívar Mafia empire, was the man that I had blindly offered myself to.

As smart as I am, I was stupid all the times when it actually mattered. After all, he did warn me that he was dangerous. I just didn’t think he could be much worse than my thug of a brother.

I was vulnerable—naive.

My name is Mercy, and I am the Mafia’s Mercy.

My hips work shamelessly, riding his hand as he sucks bruises into my neck. This dirty secret, this indecent proposition so at odds with my buttoned-up life. The light, near-cruel flicks, rip a scream from my throat as I shatter, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my body locking down in a bone-deep spasm.

I just had sex…with a stranger…in a dirty back alley…


"Be a good girl. Good girls get rewarded."

Bullshit.

Being a good girl doesn't get you jack shit, but a cheating husband and piles of credit card debt in your name—credit cards that he used to pamper his side piece, the mock with I really want to erase from my mind from that bitch: Maybe if you could give him a baby, he wouldn't need to go looking somewhere else."

After years of negative tests, how cruel is it that one reckless encounter with a stranger could succeed where my marriage failed? A strangled laugh escapes my lips, edging on hysteria.


The sexy man with dark eyes leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Who I am doesn't matter," he says, the words echoing in the marrow of my bones. "What matters is that you, Penelope, are carrying my descendant."

"Your…your descendant..?"

⬥ Keegan ⬥
I was sent to her.
To watch her. To protect her. And, when the order comes… to kill her.
My name is Keegan Caffery. I’m the Carter Mafia’s best hitman. I don’t miss. I don’t fail.
At least, I didn’t use to.
I don’t know what it is about her that got to me first—her mouth, her mind, or the way she looks at me like I’m not what she should fear.
I’ve had a gun to her head since I walked into her life.
She knows it.
And she still doesn’t run.
She just watches me back like she’s studying a problem she refuses to call impossible.
She’s the one variable I can’t control.
And God help me… I don’t want to.
I have an order. I have loyalty. I have a trigger.
But every time I imagine it—
I can’t stand it.
Her or me. That’s the math.
It’s a deadly equation I don’t want to solve.
⬥ Maisie ⬥
I’m not ordinary. I stopped pretending long ago.
My name is Maisie Seo. IQ 145. Clinical genius.
Which sounds impressive until you realize what it actually means: I don’t fit anywhere people expect me to.
I see patterns everywhere. Outcomes before they happen. People like equations I’ve already solved.
It gets lonely in a world you’ve already figured out.
So I dull myself down. Smoke the edges off. Pretend, badly, to be the kind of normal that lets people stay.
Then he walked in.
I knew what he was immediately. Dangerous. Intentional. Wrong in all the right ways.
I should be afraid of him.
I keep waiting for that to kick in.
Instead, I’m fascinated.
Because for the first time in my life… I’ve found something I can’t solve.
He is my deadly equation.