72 Book(s) Related to noah jupe

BLURB

Eli Morgan had spent years trying to survive Noah Carter.

Unfortunately, Noah Carter seemed determined to ruin his life.

As The College’s swim captain, campus heartthrob, and his older brother’s best friend, Noah had made teasing Eli his personal hobby, touching him too casually, acting possessive whenever Eli liked someone, and somehow inserting himself into every part of Eli’s life.

And somehow?

Nobody else thought it was weird.

Not even Ethan, Eli’s perfect older brother.

But when Eli finally starts dating someone seriously, Noah’s behavior changes from annoying to dangerous. The teasing becomes jealousy. The casual touches become possessive. And the tension between them becomes impossible to ignore.

She was scared of being caged up in her home where no one acknowledged her.

April seek for freedom and to be free comes with a great price

Eloping with her lover wasn't the best option but only option and answer to the very thing she desired most, freedom.

Her fears came rushing back in a strange city with no one to run to when the very person she trusted turns out to be a monster

Just when she was about to accept the scary fate staring at her, light came shining on her dark part. Philip, a handsome billionaire fell in love with her and she was ready to hold onto him as her only saving grace, April kept a huge secret from Phil which Louise threaten to expose if she does not do his evil biddings.

April was thrown into a dilemma when Louise gave her few days to meet his demand or she will be exposed and thrown back to the slum where she belongs, unknown to Louise that April was cooking up a plan of her own but if her plans fail she may loose everything including Phil, and that was the very thing she was afraid off.

Nora Vale inherits three million dollars and a ruined seaside motel from an aunt her family called impossible.

She tells no one. Not even Rowan, her exhausted mechanic husband, who has spent years letting his family drain him dry.

Instead, Nora tells one dangerous lie: her design studio has collapsed, and she has lost everything.

Rowan does not blame her. He does not leave. He takes her hand and says, "Then we rebuild. You and me."

But the inheritance is not just money. Harbor Mile Motel hides records of a predatory company buying coastal properties through debt, fear, and family pressure. Rowan's brother is involved. Nora's aunt may not have died as quietly as everyone believed.

Now Nora must learn that money can buy time, repairs, and lawyers, but it cannot buy trust. And Rowan must decide whether the woman who lied to test his love is still the woman he wants to build a future with.

Clara Vale lost her award, her career, and her dignity on the same red carpet.

The world thought she ran to hide.

They were wrong.

She ran to the only place that had ever made her feel clean: a mountain town above the snowline, where a quiet rescue captain named Elias Roan had lived in her secret account, her unfinished letters, and her heart for three years.

But shame follows fast. So does the man who ruined her.

And when Clara's past climbs the mountain to destroy her one last time, Elias may be the only person willing to stand between her and the crowd.

For three years, Mara Ellis raised twins for a dead man.

Then the comments appeared in the air.

They said Caleb Ward was alive.

They said he was about to marry another woman.

They said Mara was only the abandoned side character who would show up too late.

Mara folded one more tiny shirt, looked at her sleeping children, and decided the story had never met a mother with overdue bills.

I was always the extra daughter in the Cross family.
To my parents, I was nothing more than a walking blood bank for Clara. To my husband Adrian, I was a sinner who needed to atone for her crimes.
When Adrian forced me to donate a kidney to my sister, I agreed.
Not only did I agree, I liquidated every asset I owned and transferred it all to my research lab.
They thought I was stupid, thought I was still desperate for their love.
But all I was doing was putting my affairs in order.
The night before the surgery, I coughed up blood all over the table.
Adrian sneered over the phone. "Cut the act, Evelyn. You'll do anything to dodge responsibility. You just want attention—how pathetic."
The surgery was a "success."
My sister got the kidney she'd always wanted.
And I died in the recovery room.
My soul floated above my body as I watched Adrian walk into the hospital room, that patronizing smile on his face, ready to put on his "repentant husband" act.
"Eve, I know you've been hurt. Let's start over..."
The only answer he got was a white sheet pulled over my face.

I thought I was the happiest woman in the city.

My husband would gently help me into my shoes, rest his hand on my belly and whisper to our baby. My father would tie on an apron and cook dinner just for me.

Then a video from an unknown number shattered everything.

Inside a chapel, the four of them stood side by side.

My husband holding the hand of my father's mistress's daughter. My father arm in arm with the woman who once knelt before my mother begging for mercy.

And my wedding — the one the whole city had witnessed — had been nothing but a lie from the very beginning.

That evening.

He picked the bones from my fish, tucked a cushion behind my back, kissed my forehead — same as always.

I didn't confront him. I simply handed him a document to sign.

He thought I was still the naive little lamb he'd been deceiving all along. What he didn't realize was that he had just signed away his last card.

The multi-million-dollar deal I worked my ass off to win back was handed over by my boss to a clueless new hire who could barely even read the material codes. And that same rookie had the nerve to mock me in public, saying I was nothing but his errand girl.
My boss went even further, tore up every rule in the book, and shoved a termination agreement right at me.
I didn't argue. I didn't make a scene. I took the severance and walked away.
Because I knew one thing better than anyone: without me, they wouldn't even make it through the manufacturers' front doors.
Sure enough, just days after I left, the entire supply chain fell apart, and the company's cash flow completely collapsed.
And when they started scrambling in desperation, running all over New York begging investment executives to save them, they walked straight onto my mother's turf.

I'm the forgotten eldest son of the Cross family.
My parents see me as a walking blood bag for my brother Colin, while my wife views me as a sinner destined to spend my life atoning for my mistakes.
When Audrey pressured me to donate a kidney, I agreed.
Not only did I agree, but I also liquidated all my assets and transferred them to my lab.
They thought I was foolish, that I was still begging for their love.
In reality, I was just tying up loose ends.
The night before the surgery, I coughed up a pool of blood.
Audrey laughed coldly over the phone: "Stop the act, Evan. You just want to dodge responsibility. You'll go to any lengths for attention."
The surgery was a "success."
Colin got the kidney he'd always dreamed of.
And I died in the recovery room.
My soul floated in the air as I watched Audrey push open the hospital door, wearing a smile that dripped with pity, ready to put on a show of "redemption."
"Evan, I know you've been wronged. Let's start over..."
The only response to her was the white sheet covering my lifeless body.

After being brought home by my biological parents, I thought I'd finally get the love I'd been missing.

But no matter what I did, they only blamed me for bullying my adopted sister. My husband would just look at me with disgust.

They thought I was cruel and evil. When my adopted sister was diagnosed with leukemia, they forced me to donate bone marrow to her.

I was forced to eat and exercise, gaining twenty pounds in half a month.

My adopted sister suddenly looked at me and said, "Sis, to tell you the truth, I don't have leukemia at all. I'm just playing with you. When you die on the operating table, I'll be with your husband."

I felt so sick I wanted to die.

But I couldn't die.

I had to survive.

I had to crawl out of this hell alive!

My mother stared at my body, fused to the sofa, and waited forty minutes before calling 911.
She cheerfully told my father the news, deciding they should celebrate with a nice dinner.
Of course.
After all, they could finally be rid of the burden I’d become—no more tormenting me, no more keeping me locked away.
They could go back to being the respectable parents everyone thought they were.
But—
Someone was bound to see the truth.

After months of being bullied at school, things got even worse—the bullies said they wanted to come to my house.
Wanted to see what kind of family a "dog" like me came from.
I begged them, sobbing, not to do it.
Because my dad is a serial killer. My mom is a twisted murderer. And my brother is a full-blown psychopath.
If they come to my house, they will die.

On the day the apocalyptic flood swallowed the city, I died on a fractured overpass.

The man who crushed my fingers under his boot was my brother-in-law, the very man I had sacrificed everything to support. And standing safely out of reach, watching coldly as the muddy torrent swallowed me whole, was my supposedly sweet and devoted fiancée. In her arms, she fiercely clutched her "son"—who was hoarding the last of my survival rations.

In the very last second of my life, she nestled into the arms of her ex-boyfriend and left me with a single, contemptuous sneer: "Let's go. Forget about this useless trash."

It turned out that working my fingers to the bone and emptying my life savings had all been a pathetic joke—a long con orchestrated by a pack of bloodsucking parasites.

But when I opened my eyes again, I had returned to exactly one year before the apocalypse began.

My fiancée was standing there, holding a cup of hot coffee and sweetly begging me to invest another million into her brother's business.

I just smiled, gently pushed her hand away, and turned around to liquidate every single asset to my name. With that money, I secretly constructed a state-of-the-art, deep-sea underground fortress.

Later, when the monstrous floodwaters inevitably tore the city apart, they stood on the balcony of their doomed mansion, desperately falling to their knees and begging my icebreaker for salvation.

Sitting inside my perfectly secure command cabin, I took a leisurely sip of hot coffee and softly gave the order:

"Open fire. Don't let this trash dirty my deck."

On the eve of the apocalypse, magical beasts appeared in our world.
They possessed extraordinary abilities, and humans could master these powers by forming a contract with them.
In my previous life, my adopted brother chose a top-tier Wolf King pup.
But shortly after, the extreme heat apocalypse descended. The low-tier water snake I had contracted possessed the ability to conjure water and lower temperatures, inadvertently making me the envy of everyone.
Meanwhile, my brother’s Wolf King was universally despised for its excruciatingly slow growth and lack of immediate combat power.

Now, I have been reborn to the very day we chose our contracted beasts.
This time, my brother rushed ahead and snatched the water snake.
I know why.
He has been reborn, too.
But this apocalypse is not nearly as simple as he thinks!

My boyfriend's mistress deliberately gave me a strawberry cake that I'm allergic to.
After I went into anaphylactic shock and had a miscarriage, I knew it was all over.
But when I left it all behind and went back to my hometown, he showed up at my door telling me to quit throwing a fit, that he still loved me.
This kind of love full of betrayal?
I don't want it.

For seven years of marriage, I don't dare make a sound around my husband.
All because he can hear everyone's voices—everyone's except mine. He says he's allergic to mine.
I've tried everything to change my voice—even had vocal cord surgery.
But no matter how hard I tried—every time he'd just cover his ears like I was hurting him.
I've cried myself to sleep so many times, feeling guilty.
Until our son's birthday.
Standing by our front door, our little boy grinned up at his dad and asked, "Dad, can I pretend to be allergic to mom's voice too? Just like you?"

After eight years together, my fiancé gave all his affection to the innocent-acting sneaky babysitter at home. Even when I was on the brink of losing my baby, he was busy helping her fulfill her wish to watch shooting stars.
I didn't cry or make a scene; I calmly finished the property notarization, sold my expensive engagement ring, and switched jobs to a top investment bank.
By the time he was frantically searching for me everywhere, I was safely in the arms of a business mogul who had secretly loved me for twenty years. "Late love is cheaper than dirt; your karma is just beginning."

Our female coach was a gorgeous, curvy young married woman.

Fair-skinned and stunning, with a figure that turned heads.

When she ran, her proud fullness bounced with every step.

We could hardly keep our eyes off her.

But one day, her beauty became a weapon that could kill…

I’m Emily, a criminal investigator in Emerald City. After a vice crackdown, I refused a transfer—only to realize someone was tailing me on my way home at night…

A young couple recently moved in right across the hall from us.
The husband, Richard, works as an auditor at City Hall. His wife, Chloe, is the morning show host for a local TV network.
Chloe is about five-foot-three, with curves in all the right places. Her entire being radiates an unignorable, mature housewife charm—she is absolutely gorgeous.
Richard is a serious whiskey enthusiast and often invites me over to the patio for a couple of drinks, so our families quickly grew close. My wife, Sarah, and Chloe, in particular, became like sisters the moment they started talking about Sephora's new releases and luxury bags. They could easily gossip for an entire weekend.
And that... gave me an opportunity.

My grandfather was a thief.

He did not steal money.

He stole my grandmother's name, her return papers, and the life that should have carried her out of the mountains.

Fifty years later, his granddaughter sat across from me in a law firm interview and smiled like the world already belonged to her.

I opened her file, saw the family name, and closed the folder.

"You didn't pass."

Clara Whitman-Harlan had been called graceful because no one had ever seen what it cost her to stay quiet. For ten years, she made Grant Harlan look like a man who had built an empire by discipline and vision. She hosted the dinners, calmed the vendors, moved money before payroll became a headline, and remembered which investor had a daughter with asthma and which supplier hated lilies. She kept every thank-you note, every invoice, and every awkward receipt that proved the Harlan fortune had not grown from Grant's charm alone.

Then a pregnant employee appeared in his calendar. Grant denied the affair. His mother blamed Clara for the child she had never had. The other woman smiled like innocence in a white dress. At a charity gala packed with donors, suppliers, family friends, and investors, they prepared a family trust for Clara to sign, supposedly for an unborn baby, quietly designed to transfer Clara's homes, dividends, and company rights into another woman's hands. They thought Clara would protect their name one last time. They forgot she had spent a decade protecting herself.

t the most expensive medical charity gala in Manhattan, Avery Hale came in through the service corridor because she hated cameras. She wore a black dress without a label, carried her own coat, and kept her name off every donor wall.

That was the point. For seven years, Avery had hidden the money she made from film scores and documentary royalties inside an anonymous foundation that paid for surgeries, trials, and second chances for children whose families had run out of all three. She had built Second Dawn quietly because quiet was the one thing her old family had never been able to take from her.

Then the Mercers saw her.

The parents who had adopted her and discarded her. The golden son they had asked her to fund, praise, and disappear for. The family that once called her selfish for wanting college now called her a fraud for standing in a room she had paid to build.

They thought Avery had slipped into the gala to beg. They thought the powerful man watching from the edge of the ballroom was only another rich stranger. They thought public shame would make her small again.

They were wrong about every part of her.

Married for seven years, I lived my life like an absolute joke.
For the sake of my brother, my wife personally uprooted the roses I had so painstakingly cultivated. To please her uncle, my daughter pointed at my nose and called me a "bad daddy."
The entire family even held a vote to force me to donate my bone marrow. My wife, Elena, raised her hand without a second thought: "You'll just lose a little bone marrow. Liam will die without you."
In that moment, my heart died.
The surgery was a success.
As the anesthesia wore off, Elena was holding my hand tightly. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice trembled with remorse: "Aaron, I was a jerk before. As long as you were willing to save Liam, I will love only you for the rest of my life."
She thought I would be as pathetically grateful as a dog, begging for her affection and humbly forgiving her.
But I merely frowned in disgust and pulled my hand back as if shaking off garbage.
In the dead silence, I looked at this tearful woman before me and asked, politely yet confused:
"Excuse me, ma'am... who are you?"

"What the hell, it even has haptic vibration feedback? Are they seriously making these things this realistic now?"

Taking advantage of my roommate being out on a sales call, I tossed this ridiculously expensive "high-end realistic doll" onto my bed.

Watching her body tremble slightly, almost uncontrollably, the twisted fire in my gut burned even hotter.

"Baby, here I come!"

At the company's annual client appreciation dinner, I was the one in charge of booking the venue.
To save the company money, I picked my aunt's upscale restaurant with a skyline view. Since we were family, she only charged us at cost. When I posted the details in our Slack channel to confirm with the team, no one had any objections—except for the intern, who slowly tagged me in the chat:
[Arthur, I don't mean anything by it.]
[I just want to ask—how big a kickback did you get for booking your family's restaurant?]
[After all, the money for this dinner is coming out of our bonus pool.]
[So you should return that money to the rest of us, right?]
The other coworkers started liking the message and chiming in to support him.
So I dropped the whole thing on the spot and handed the task over to that intern, who loved talking about "fixing workplace injustice."
Then the night of the dinner came.
From the CEO all the way down to the investors, everyone was pinned on the deck and searched by armed Coast Guard officers.
The most important client contact collapsed from a heart attack on the spot and was airlifted by helicopter straight to the ICU, costing the company a multimillion-dollar enterprise cybersecurity contract.

I am the nameless corpse dumped in an alley, left without a head or limbs.
My mother is the lead detective on the case.
She stood outside the crime scene tape, pinching her nose in disgust. "Another street rat who got what she deserved. Just like my own useless daughter—always out running wild."
I hovered above, watching her step over my mutilated body, cooing gently into the phone with my stepsister—while the last call I made to her for help, the night I died, went unanswered.
Not until the medical examiner pried the bloodstained birthday necklace from my stiff fingers.
Not until forensics restored the audio file on my phone, and my final desperate plea echoed out: "Mom, help me..."
Only then did Detective Sarah—Chicago's coldest cop—collapse in front of that pile of "trash," her wail of grief tearing through the night.

For seven years of marriage, I've been silent in front of my wife.
It's not that I don't have anything to say; it's just that she can hear everyone's voice—except mine, which seems to trigger her sensitivity.
I've tried everything to change my voice, even going under the knife to fix my vocal cords.
But no matter how hard I try, she just ends up in pain, covering her ears.
I've broken down countless times, feeling like I've let her down.
Until the day of our daughter's birthday.
My daughter stood at the front door, grinning, and said, "Mom, can I pretend to be voice-sensitive like you?"

The year I loved Edward the most, I was envied by everyone in Copper Valley.
They called me the priceless treasure in the palms of my father and my husband.
I was the most precious pregnant woman in the whole Copper Valley.
But before Christmas, when I went to give my husband a surprise, I saw him kissing the cheek of Angela, the daughter of my father's lover.
His friends praised his high-handed means, athat he could actually persuade me to have a fake marriage with him.
"Fake marriage?" I frowned.
Edward told them, "Lucy has everything. Angela has been a bastard for more than twenty years. I should compensate."
I left the club in despair and then replied to the mysterious text message on my phone.
[I can accept you as the nominal father of my child.]

Reunited, I became the “perfect wife” Julian had always dreamed of.
I didn’t ask where he was when he didn’t come home.
When his “one that got away” came to our door to provoke me, I greeted her with a polite smile.
I even caught them in the act, and instead of screaming, I thoughtfully closed the door for them.
The Elara who used to break down in hysterics over his infidelity was dead.

The woman standing here now was nothing more than a shell, existing solely for her daughter.
Finally, Julian began to panic. He knelt in the pouring rain, begging me to curse him, begging me to still love him—or even hate him.
But as I looked down at him, I didn’t just feel nothing. I felt sick.
"Julian, I don't hate you."
I just find every second spent with you utterly disgusting.

My first love was adopted by our family, and he promised he would always be there for me.
But after my dad passed away in a car accident, I found him with another woman in our bedroom.
He told everyone Caroline was his true love—that he only saw me as a sister—and claimed I was the one who was pestering him.
I was shamed by everyone. The stress gave my mother a stroke, and Caroline even had someone run me over, costing me an eye.
Seven years later, holding flowers, I ran into them outside a convenience store.
Arthur's son looked at me pityingly. "Dad, this lady lost an eye… Is she selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

I am the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family.
After an unexpected rest, my opponent sent me a street racing invitation.
I went to my brother's company to retrieve my car, but was drugged with ether by my brother's secretary.
She told me that no one could seduce her man.
She kicked my stomach, threatened me with a paper cutter to make a vow, and said her future sister-in-law is the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family—if I dared to retaliate against her, I would die miserably.
I looked at her coldly.
Really?
But I haven't agreed to be your sister-in-law yet!

"Mmm... Tyler... I can't take it anymore..."

My wife's sexy best friend panted heavily in my private training room, her previous tough talk completely gone.

"Giving up already? We haven't even started." I grabbed her tiny waist, flipped her over, and pushed her back into the set. "Again. We're nowhere near done."

Seven years ago, Mara Vale signed a confession for the man she loved.

Grant Mercer promised it was the only way to save their future. He said the hit-and-run was an accident, that his family would hire the best lawyer, that she would be home before their baby learned to walk. Instead, Mara gave birth in prison, lost her son to Grant's polished lies, and watched him build a new life on the story of being ruined by a criminal ex-fiancee.

Now Mara is free, broke, and trained in the one craft no one in Grant's glittering world respects until they need it: the restoration of damaged photographs, burned paper, and things people thought were too ruined to speak.

When Grant's wealthy new wife hires Mara to save the Hart family archives, Mara steps into a house built on reputation, money, and locked boxes. Inside those boxes are old newspapers, altered confessions, receipts, signatures, and ashes that remember the truth better than any person dared to.

Grant stole Mara's name, her son, and seven years of her life. He is about to learn that some things cannot return to what they were, but they can still be restored.

Seven years of marriage, and I was nothing but a joke.
My husband destroyed the roses I'd spent years nurturing—just to please my sister. My son, desperate for his aunt's approval, pointed at me and called me a "bad mom."
One day, the whole family took a vote to force me into donating bone marrow. Ethan, my husband, didn't hesitate. He raised his hand and said, "Erin, it's just a little bone marrow. Leah will die without you."
That was the moment my heart broke.
The surgery was a success.
When the anesthesia wore off, Ethan was gripping my hand tightly, eyes bloodshot, voice trembling with remorse. "Erin, I was a fool before. If you save Leah, I swear I'll spend the rest of my life loving only you."
He thought I'd grovel, grateful like a dog, desperate for his forgiveness.
But I just frowned in disgust and pulled my hand away as if shaking off trash.
In the dead silence, I looked at the tear-streaked man before me and asked, polite and confused:
"Sir... who are you?"

At the school's field day, my six-year-old son pointed straight at me and shouted for everyone to hear, "I'd rather be alone than with her! She's the worst mom in the world!"
He hated that I couldn't afford expensive toys, hated that we lived in a tiny apartment, hated that I was just a useless woman.
Then he turned and ran straight into the arms of the woman who destroyed my family, calling her name in the sweetest voice, just because she handed him an ice cream.
My ex-husband leaned against his luxury car, sneering, "Nora, if you admit you were wrong, I'll let you come back. We can get married again."
Looking at their smug faces, I finally let go of the hands I'd been gripping tightly for four years.
"All right," I said, smiling as I signed away custody, "Since you two love each other so much, I hope you and your perfect little family enjoy every minute together."
They thought I was playing hard to get, but they had no idea—this time, I really meant it.

"Hey, easy on the thrusts, I can barely stand."

Inside a top-tier nightclub in Los Angeles, the heavy bass was making the floorboards vibrate. I took advantage of the crowd and pressed tightly against the girl in front of me.

She was wearing a strapless, tight little black dress, her hands waving in the air, her perfectly shaped ass shaking wildly to the beat.

God help me, she was completely commando under that dress!

What excited me even more was that she didn't reject my advances at all; instead, she started actively accommodating them.

My buddy Ron had been a miserable wreck for days, whining about how some young girl had scammed him out of his cash.
After pressing him for details, I found out the girl worked at a massage therapy parlor.
Fired up with the idea of getting some payback for my brother, I headed over to this "blind massage" joint...
Only to find myself tumbling headfirst into the very same honey trap.

After I took in my first love, she promised she'd always be good to me.
But after my mother died in a car accident, I found her in our home—with another man.
She told everyone Colin was her true love, that I was just a little brother she never wanted, and that I was the one who couldn't let go.
Everyone turned against me. My father had a stroke from the rage. Colin even had someone run me over—cost me an eye.
Seven years later.
I stood outside a convenience store holding flowers when I saw them.
Audrey's daughter looked at me with pity. "Mom, that man only has one eye... Is he selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

He swore to ruin the daughter of the man who destroyed his family. He didn't expect her to taste like his biggest regret.

I keep telling myself I don’t belong to him.
That the way his gaze tracks my mouth means nothing, and the sudden, aching warmth in my heart when he enters a room is just leftover loneliness.

Nicholas didn't come into my life by accident. He entered my world like a slow burning wildfire, carrying a dark past and a grudge meant to destroy my family. To him, I’m just a target and a cruel reminder of the woman he lost three years ago, the ghost he couldn't save.

He should hate me. I should run from him.
But Nicholas doesn’t chase. He waits. He gives me just enough room to pretend I’m free, watching my composure fall apart piece by piece without lifting a single finger. That patience is far more dangerous than if he had backed me against the wall and taken what he wanted.

“You don’t have to stay,” he murmured, his breath brushing the shell of my ear, sending a shiver straight down my spine. “But we both know you will.”

I hated how right he was.

Now my skin craves the pressure of his hands. Every breath I take feels heavy with the threat of what happens if I break. I can’t pretend my body doesn't give in the second he steps close.

I call it a mistake… anything to pretend I still have a choice.

Because Nicholas never asked for my permission. He’s just letting me undo myself, perfectly content to claim what he already decided was his.

Marilyn is a self made boss and a Baddie. She does not soften for anyone but she made an exception for her fiancé.
Until she found out her fiancé Tom was cheating on her. To make matter worse, he didn't feel remorse. He broke off the engagement and left her standing there like a fool.
She ends up at a hotel bar, where an arrogant stranger approaches her. He’s persistent, irritatingly sure of himself, and exactly the kind of man she doesn’t deal with. She dismisses him and leaves, refusing to give any man her time anymore.
The next day, she goes to her ex’s office with the intention of ruining his peace. Instead, she finds the man from the bar. His name is Dante. He is her ex’s boss.
Dante proposes an offer and she accepts when she realizes it would get her the revenge she wants on her ex and even more.
The arrangement is clear: No feelings attached.
But the longer they play the part, the more the line blur.

This is a story about control, ego, attraction, and what happens when two people who don’t surrender to anyone start wanting each other anyway.

She thought she was escaping one cage. She walked straight into another.
Georgia Steele married a man she didn't love to save her family — traded her youth for a gilded prison in Pasadena and called it duty. Then Lord Carlisle Strathearn walked into her life and offered her everything she'd been denied: passion, freedom, the kind of love that made her forget her vows.
She left her husband for him. She left her family. She left everything.
It was only when the doors locked behind her that she realized Carlisle had been watching her long before that first night at the art gallery. That his desire wasn't for her — it was for her destruction. Her father's sins had cost him everything. And Georgia was going to pay the debt.
Now she's trapped beneath a Victorian manor in California, drugged, gaslit, and erased from the world — while Carlisle hosts dinner parties on the floor above her head.
She had two choices once. She has none now.
But the walls she's writing on are starting to whisper back.
Married for Money' Buried for Revenge is a dark psychological romance series about obsession, revenge, and what survives when everything else is taken away. For readers who like their villains brilliant, their heroines unbreakable, and their love stories soaked in shadows.

He's got callused hands, a slow smile, and a way with horses that makes her forget how to breathe.
Isobel didn't expect much from a trip to Wears Valley with her best friend and a troubled buckskin mare. She definitely didn't expect Ryder Callahan.
He looks like a cowboy through and through. Faded Wranglers, dusty boots, hazel eyes that see straight through you. But there's something underneath the easy drawl and the barn lot dirt that doesn't quite add up. A Rolex hidden under a shirtsleeve. A voice that carries the sharp edge of boardrooms alongside Tennessee grit.
He's keeping something buried deep, and she's getting too close to stop herself from wanting to dig.
Ryder came back to this valley to heal. Not just his body, but everything the rodeo and the life he left behind tore open. Training horses gives him quiet. Isobel gives him something he wasn't looking for.
But secrets don't stay buried forever. And when his two worlds collide, the only question left is whether she'll still want the man standing in the wreckage.
Sometimes the hardest eight seconds aren't in the arena.

Haunt Me Like You Mean It
When Mei Liang signed on as an assistant at Truth Finders of the Paranormal, she expected weird. She did not expect him.
Callum Reeves, known to everyone as Cal, is twenty-three, British, brutally brilliant, and completely impossible. He leads TFP like he owns the air in the room, and maybe he does. Mei has spent the better part of a year fetching his tea, surviving his icy stares, and pretending she does not care what he thinks of her.
She is not doing a great job of pretending.
When TFP is called to investigate a haunted theater on the outskirts of Hollow Crest, a remote village hugging the edges of New York's Chinatown, Mei thinks it is just another case. A ghost, a client, a mystery to solve. But the Miyuki Theater is hiding more than one secret, and so is Cal.
Between a furious heiress, a desperate playwright, a powder room that looks like a war zone, and a ghost that seems to have a very specific target in mind, Mei is already in over her head. Add in the strange dreams she cannot explain, a spirit that looks disturbingly familiar, and a team that runs more on chaos than cohesion, and this case is about to get very personal.
Some hauntings follow you home.
Some feelings do too.

I should have known that working for the cruel, frigid billionaire Damian Blackwood would be a nightmare. When I saw the cold gaze in his sharp gray eyes and the way he treated me like I were nothing, I should have turned to go.

However, I was unable to. This employment was necessary for me.

Aria, his daughter, is eight years old and struggling due to her father's inability to show her affection. Somehow, she picks me up when she needs someone.

Damian observes her laughing, the warmth in her eyes, and myself for the first time in years. Even if his words hurt me and his presence suffocates me, there is something broken behind his merciless façade that draws me in despite my better judgment.

Then I discover the reality.

His spouse didn't just pass away. She was killed. And the guy who did it? He's closer than I thought he would be.

Damian is not a trusting person. I've now given him every reason to think that I was sent to ruin him.

Because of the person he has been pursuing? He used to be the guy I cherished.

The monster I believed I had fled is again returning to haunt me.

"Tyler Wills broke my heart and now, he's back to pick up the pieces, but I built walls he can’t climb... or can he?"
Samantha Blake, a rising star in New York's design world, thought she left her broken past behind. But when a big lie messes up her life, she has to face Tyler Wills, the man she once loved and lost. As secrets come out and enemies show up, Samantha must deal with a mix of lies and desire. Will she find the strength to forgive and get her future back, or will the past ruin everything she cares about?

They sold me to pay a debt. To a monstrous mafia lord. So I walked into a club and gave my body to a stranger first. My choice. My terms.

That stranger was beautiful. Dangerous. He saw the fire in me and called it magnificent. For one night, he was my sanctuary.

Turns out, my sanctuary has a name: Matteo. And he’s not some random man. He’s the son of the monster I’m supposed to marry. He offers me his protection, his understanding, his searing touch in the shadows. I hate him. I want him. I’m falling for him. We start an affair while hiding from his father.

Here’s the kicker: there is no monster. There’s only him.

Matteo is the Don. The debt, the fear, the wedding, was all his game. He lied to cage me. He played a role to break me. He thought he could own me.

He thought wrong.

Now he’s learning the truth: you shouldn’t trap a woman who’s already been forged in fire. You shouldn’t lie to someone who can see the cracks in every painted surface. And you definitely shouldn’t fall in love with the queen you tried to make a pawn.
The marriage is real. The war is on. And this time, I’m writing the rules.

I was supposed to start college with a future already mapped out and a boyfriend I trusted at my side. I had plans, expectations, and a life that felt safe and familiar.Then I walked into his bedroom and found my boyfriend and my sister tangled together in his sheets, breathing lies and betrayal like it was nothing.I cried once. I screamed once. And then I made a decision.I was not going to fall apart. I was not going to disappear quietly. I was going to make sure neither of them ever forgot what they did to me.So I did the one thing no one expected. I signed up for his father’s class.Professor Ethan Parker was calm, controlled, devastatingly brilliant, and completely off-limits in every way that mattered. He was older, disciplined, and untouchable, or so everyone believed. He was supposed to be a symbol of restraint and authority, not temptation.Until the first time our eyes met across the lecture hall.Until he asked me to stay after class, his voice low and unreadable, his attention lingering just a second too long.Until one night shattered every rule I thought was carved in stone.Now I call him Professor Parker when others are listening, but in my thoughts, in my body, and in every dangerous fantasy I no longer try to suppress, he is Ethan.My ex wants forgiveness. My sister wants the past erased like it never happened.But revenge has a name, a presence, and a last name that makes their blood run cold.Because karma did not come gently.It came wearing his father’s suit, his father’s authority, and a hunger none of us saw coming.And revenge has never tasted so good.