609 Book(s) Related to Where Broken Hearts Meet

In the sixth year of my life as a Scale-Stripper, I finally gathered the hundredth vial of Dragon Breath Essence.

I knelt before the altar, cradling the crystal bottle in both hands. The golden light swirling within it cast a warm glow across my scarred knuckles. Six years — six years of wandering the most dangerous battlefields of the Five Clans and the plague-ridden wastelands, using dragon breath to heal the wounded. For every person I saved, I had peeled away a living scale from my own flesh, baring the raw, bleeding meat beneath.

Seven scales left on my back.

Only seven.

But as long as it saved my brother Lucien, it was worth it.

Six years ago, during the Dragon Slaughter War, our parents had been assassinated by humans. An ancient curse had struck Lucien; his scales were crumbling away, day by day. He told me that only a hundred vials of Dragon Breath Essence could break the curse.

I held the crystal bottle out to him, my voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "Lucien, a hundred vials. We finally have enough."

Lucien took the bottle and glanced at it.

Then he tossed it off the altar without a second thought.

I went rigid.

Lucien stood at the top of the altar.

"I was never cursed," he said.

My hands were still cupped in the shape of holding the bottle, all ten fingers suspended in midair.

"Our parents never died, either."

"The Dragon Slaughter War six years ago, I planned it. The only one left crippled, with broken wings, was you."

I'm an OB-GYN. On Valentine's Day, I pulled a ring out of a woman's vagina.

It turned out to be my husband's wedding ring.

An hour before, he'd texted me. Said he loved me. Said he was too busy with work to come home.

I wanted a divorce. Needed one. But then I found out—our marriage was never registered.

In his manor, I was nothing. Just a fake wife.

He grabbed me by the throat—right in front of his mistress. Called me "damaged goods." Said I'd spent a year in another man's house.

But that year, I went as a hostage in his place.

I ran. Made it to the cliff's edge, covered in blood. And the man who saved me? The mafia godfather who'd held me captive that whole year.

He looked at me. "Marry me."

Yes, I jumped from that rooftop. Wind screaming in my ears as I fell, thinking it might finally earn me one fucking tear from them. Instead, all I got was "she's so dramatic."
Now I'm staring at fifteen-year-old skin in the mirror. Downstairs, their fake voices call my name—identical to that "welcome home" afternoon three years ago.
Yvette rushes to hug me, sugar-sweet venom dripping from her lips: "Remember who the princess is." I give her the same plastic smile right back.
I hear the voice in my head crystal clear: This time, I'm not fighting for their love—I'm taking back the life that was always mine.

I swear, I hate my husband.

At my birthday party, my husband whispered to his mistress in French that he missed her. His voice was low, but I heard it all—the black lingerie, the bit about how pregnancy makes you more sensitive. His French clients around us were laughing. He turned and put his arm around me, claiming he was just helping his clients come up with sweet nothings.

He doesn't know I understand every single word. Just like he doesn't know that inside my body, I'm carrying his other surprise. And his mistress—she's pregnant too. Two wombs, one secret.

Confrontation would be too cheap. Tears are worthless. I quietly started cataloging the hidden networks my father left behind, activating the Swiss accounts.

In seven days, Zoey Smith will cease to exist. And what will my husband's reaction be?

I clutched the diagnosis paper that read "Stage 4 Gastric Cancer," my knuckles turning white. For twenty-two years, no matter how bad things got, Ethan always said he could handle it. But this time, my call only reached his voicemail.

I still remember that snowy night when I was seventeen. Under that tree, he squeezed my hand and promised, "You don't have to be strong anymore. Just lean on me." He said he'd marry me once he became successful, vowed to protect me for a lifetime. I believed him—believed him so much that today I drove frantically to his recording studio, desperate to tell him about my diagnosis.

But the scene through the cracked door shattered every hope I had. The sight of him entangled with Victoria hurt worse than any diagnosis. Later, when he handed me divorce papers, I coughed blood into my tissue, and he didn't even glance my way.

How did the man who promised to protect me forever become the one pushing me into the abyss? I'm dying, and even my last shred of hope is being crushed. Is this really how it ends?

I'm crouched on this fucking balcony clutching a pregnancy test, hands shaking like a leaf—two blazing red lines staring me in the face. I was such a goddamn fool thinking I'd tell Remy about our baby tonight. What a sick joke!
The banquet hall's roaring below and there's that bastard on stage, arm wrapped around Olivia, shouting "This winery has NO future without her!" Each word slams into me like a sledgehammer. TEN FUCKING YEARS! When he was drowning in debt, I sold every piece of Mom's jewelry to save his ass!
Then the son of a bitch hurls a box of abortion pills at me like I'm garbage: "Kill it, or Olivia's daddy pulls his money."
I'm glaring at that box and it hits me—ten years of my life pissed away on this piece of shit, and now even the innocent baby growing inside me is worth less than his blood money! I gave him everything and he's ready to murder our child for a fucking check!

I’ve had the Sight for as long as I can remember.
Born into a matrilineal line of Salem witches, I can pierce the veil of the dead. I see the wandering souls and the lingering traces of magic left behind in the mortal world.
I always assumed this gift was nothing more than my own harmless little secret.
Until the night of our fifth wedding anniversary.
I lit the final taper candle on the long dining table. As the flame flickered, my Sight instinctively slipped open, my gaze drifting toward the deep shadows by the fireplace.
A spirit was huddled there in the dark.
It was my husband—Silas Blackwood.
Ice flooded my veins. What the hell is going on? Is Silas... dead?!
My hands shook as I fumbled for my phone, stumbling back in a frantic rush to dial his number.
But before my thumb could hit the call button—before my lips could even form the words of a banishing spell—
Click.
The front door opened.
Silas strode in, bringing the damp, fresh scent of the rain with him.
"Sorry I'm late, Evie."
My breath caught. If Silas was dead... then who the hell was standing right in front of me, wearing his skin?

When I woke up in that hospital bed, legs wrapped in casts and burning like hell, everything came flooding back. This time, I wasn't the naive fool I'd been before.
Tyler, my brother Ryan, and that bitch Savannah—they destroyed me. Turned a gymnastics prodigy into a cripple.
Tyler had the nerve to grab my hand, begging me to forgive Savannah for ruining my legs. My brother chose outsiders over me, screaming about "family reputation."
Fuck their love. Fuck family.
This time around, I've got evidence of the $1.2 million they owe me. I know all their dirty secrets. Round two has started, and I'm done being their victim.
Those three bastards are going to pay back every damn cent they stole from me.

I was six years old when Mom took my brother and me by the hand, leading us into a mansion that looked like a palace. She told us this was our new beginning, after all the hardships we'd been through. But no one warned me that this so-called better life would mean giving up everything I had.

My scholarships, my prom dress, even my Stanford acceptance letter—they all turned into bargaining chips just to keep my stepfather and his daughter Sienna happy. Then, the night before my wedding, they even asked my fiancé to "temporarily" give himself to her as well.

I've always been the one giving everything, pouring myself out until there's nothing left, yet I've never heard the words, "You're enough." If love means endless sacrifice, why am I never the one on the receiving end?

Maybe only when I vanish completely will they remember my name—for the first and last time.

The day our parents remarried, my entire life descended into unrelenting hell.
Jace, my stepbrother, hated me on sight the second he walked through the front door.
Like a relentless ghost that haunted my every waking moment, he stole every girl I ever cared about, one by one.
I hated him for seven long years, convinced he only got off on grinding me into the dirt. Until that drugged night at the hotel...

Bryan and I had been together for a year.

He was gentle, thoughtful. I had no reason not to trust him.

Until the night the typhoon hit.

He called. He said he, his mother, and his brother's family were outside my door, soaking wet. They just needed somewhere to stay for the night.

I walked to the door.

My hand reached for the doorknob.

That's when I saw her in the hallway mirror.

My future self.

Covered in blood. Clothes shredded.

She was screaming at me. "Don't open the door! They'll kill you!"

I am Seraphine Marchwood. For five years, I gave every piece of myself to Alpha Veyron, convinced our mate bond was fated—until the night I accidentally overheard the truth.
He never wanted me as his mate. The entire proposed bond was nothing but a cover, a farce to hide his scandalous affair with Ophelia, the woman he actually loved. She was carrying his pup, and I was just the disposable, respectable shield to keep his reputation untarnished.
I ran that night, blind with grief and rage, until I crashed through the rotting beams of an old, rain-soaked ruin. The last thing I remembered before blacking out was the taste of blood in my mouth, and the sound of his voice calling my name, too late.
When I woke up, I didn’t recognize him.
And for the first time since I’d known him, he looked terrified. The cold, unshakable Alpha who’d cast me aside without a second thought was panicking, desperate, scrambling to bring back the version of me that had loved him more than anything—even as a new, unforeseen path began to unfurl before me.

I once believed fleeing my engagement would set me free, only to fall headlong into a web of betrayal spun by my closest friend and faithless lover.

Now, granted a second life just a week before that fateful wedding, I stand before the man I betrayed—Alexander Stone, the unyielding soul who ended his life in my previous existence, all because of me.

This time, I've sworn to mend what I shattered. But as I reach out to him, his voice cuts like ice: "You don't need to know me. This marriage is purely transactional."

Yet if he's as indifferent as he claims, why did he linger by my hospital bed for two sleepless nights? Why do his eyes flicker with a devastation that could unravel worlds, and why does he shudder at my touch, whispering, "Are you afraid of me?"

As the shadows of old betrayals creep back, will I pierce his frozen mask to safeguard this fragile love reborn? And that haunting whisper in my mind—"Alexander Stone died because of you"—does it seal a destiny I can't escape?

I once believed that every click of Ryan's Leica shutter was proof of his love—a luxury villa, his exclusive muse—I was foolish enough to believe in this fairy tale. Until our engagement night, when Isabella appeared wearing an identical ring, and the media exposed his betrayal, I finally realized I was nothing but a carefully selected stand-in.

Have you ever spent three years of your youth living as someone else's shadow? When he held her and called me "just a cheap copy," I didn't break down. After all, isn't it more satisfying to turn the tables using the camera sounds he was so obsessed with, making him pay for his sins in his own madness? In this game of deception disguised as love, who really played whom?

The five of us were dragged into a twisted nightmare.
The game rules were absolute: Kill the Boss. All members survive. Total escape.
Luckily, we each spawned into the game with a supernatural perk.
Relying on our powers and our bond, we spent six grueling hours tearing the massive, horrific beast apart.
All we had to do was step into the extraction portal to wake up in Oregon.
My friends were screaming in victory, already planning our celebration at Voodoo Doughnuts.
Instead, I was frozen. My heart wasn't racing with adrenaline anymore; it was cold. Absolute zero.
Because my real perk tracked the Boss status.
Floating in the center of my vision, cutting through the shadows, were two lines of text that only I could see:BOSS STATUS: ALIVE.DISGUISED. The monster wasn't dead. It was standing right here, wearing the face of one of my best friends!

I put up with my husband's cheating because I needed money for my brother's medical bills.

Until I found the heart donor report he'd been hiding in his study for three months. 98% match. He'd signed it "postpone."

That night, fireworks filled the London sky, his mistress laughing in the background. Standing over my brother's body, I finally got it—he'd been killing my brother all along.

I ripped up his check, sold every piece of jewelry he'd ever given me, and threw the divorce papers in his face.

"Murderer"—that's all I said.

Three years later, I'm getting a standing ovation at the Golden Hall. He shows up in the snow, eyes red, begging for forgiveness.

I just smiled. "Charles, you died three years ago."

My daughter died on her seventh birthday.
I held her in the cold ward as her body slowly lost all warmth.
Meanwhile, her father—my husband Vincent—was on a mountain top with his mistress, making love to her all night long.
He said, "She’s just a child. There’ll be better ones sooner or later."
He said, "Camila, you’re the only one I love."
He has no idea that he’s killed the only soul in this world that loved him unconditionally.
After the divorce, I am no longer the meek Mrs. Lucchese who begged for his affection.
Funeral, scandal, a worthless bastard...
Everything I lost, I will make him pay for—with his entire family.

At my engagement dinner, my fiancé asked me to sign the prenup that killed me once before.

Last time, Adrian smiled, kissed my hand, and promised I would never be alone again. Three weeks later, debt collectors came for money I had never borrowed, black veins crawled under my skin, and his dying mother walked out of hospice in pearls.

This time, I turned to the second page first.

My name was already printed there.

Beside it was a date that had not happened yet.

Under it was another bride’s name.

A woman declared dead twenty-three years ago.

I once thought marriage was redemption.

I hid that I was a billionaire heiress, threw on an apron and played the perfect housewife. For three years, I pawned my jewelry to bail him out, stayed up all night fixing his business proposals, only for him to parade his mistress around our house.

She wore my limited-edition cashmere sweater, smashed my expensive china, his mother called me worthless for not popping out kids, and he called me cheap trash he couldn't stand anymore.

Fifty thousand dollars—that's what he thought three years of my life was worth.

When I got pregnant, I thought things would change, only to get shoved down the stairs and lose everything.

While I was still bleeding in that hospital bed, he forced me to sign divorce papers, threatening to destroy me completely.

In the La Perla private room, he made me crawl like a dog, trying to pimp me out to some random guy.

He had no idea I wasn't just hiding my identity—I was hiding my claws.

My fiancé and I held twenty-one weddings. I put on my wedding dress twenty-one times, only to crawl out of pools of blood each time.

Car accidents. Shootings. Explosions. Fires.

Everyone said I was cursed, that I was bad luck for my husband.

I was the only fool who believed they were accidents.

Until the twenty-second time.

That day, covered in blood, I escaped from an ambush back to headquarters and heard him say coldly over the walkie-talkie, "She won't die. Save Valerie first."

It turned out all the accidents were personally arranged by him.

He didn't love me—he just owed my parents a debt he could never repay.

So he staged disaster after disaster to get out of marrying me.

At the twenty-second wedding, I didn't wait for him to cancel.

This time, I was the one who called it off.

My name is Ivy, and I’m 18. My best friend’s father, Sebastian Blackwood, a Harvard law professor, is mature, cold, and authoritative. He’s been the centerpiece of every fantasy I’ve had since puberty.

Those nights, I toss and turn under the covers, imagining his fingers slipping into my wet, hot va*na, imagining his cok thrusting into me hard, driving me to the edge of climax.

I know it’s wrong. He’s off-limits.

But every time he looks at me, those deep, piercing eyes seem to strip away my clothes, staring straight at my most secret places. My heart races out of control, my body burns with heat.

I don’t want to just be his “good girl.”

I want to be claimed by him, completely, destructively.

During this 30-day seaside vacation, I’ll make him see that I’m no longer a little girl.

My body is wet for him, my soul burns for him.

Sebastian, will you resist, or will you pin me down and fu*k me hard?

On my due date, my mate Kael locked me in the Frost Vault.
House Veyron's Hatching Law was absolute: the first dragon egg to break shell inherits the entire Emberscale empire. My sister-in-law Celine and I were both due to deliver—our egg dates only one day apart. To ensure his brother Roman's posthumous egg hatched first, Kael made his choice.
"Roman and Celine's egg must break shell first. You owe them that!" He ignored my ruptured water, ignored the agony of the egg already pressing into my birth canal, and shoved me into that dungeon built from ancient ice-dragon bones.
Then they injected me with Frostbind Serum—an ice-magic drug that freezes the life-bond between a mother dragon and her egg. I curled up on the frozen floor carved with suppression runes, feeling my child's pulse fade beat by beat, and wept.
My baby, I'm so sorry... I can't even protect you...

"Clyde, no—stop this right now. I only came to your class because Aaron recommended you to help me learn motorcycle riding for my job, not to get into something like this." On the open training field, as I struggled to balance the bike and keep it steady, my husband's old college roommate Clyde climbed on behind me to "correct" my form, his hands boldly cupping my large, soft breasts through my fitted top. The real problem hit when I felt his massive bulge pressing insistently against my backside, hard and unyielding, as he leaned in too close under the guise of instruction.

My husband and I've been married for three years, and he's been messing around with her the entire time.

Hugging and kissing her on set, whispering flirty lines in interviews.

Everyone online calls me a pathetic stand-in.

I never get mad. I just smile and help him smooth over every rumor.

That is, until I accidentally got pregnant and secretly had an abortion.

He was furious, his heart shattered, demanding to know why.

I cupped his face and said calmly: "Because I don't love you."

The one I truly love is his dead brother.

I had been married for seven years, thinking I had the perfect family.

Until Christmas Eve, when I saw a delivery order for apartment 702. The note read: severe mango allergy.

My husband's allergy. The one that could kill him.

I flew downstairs and pounded on the door.

My husband opened it. The same man who was supposed to be "out of town on business."

A pregnant woman appeared behind him.

And my six-year-old son stood behind her, glaring at me with cold eyes:

"Make her leave, Mom. She's crazy."

My world shattered.

My husband sent me to a clinic to erase my "attachment distress" toward him and our daughter.

He said I was too obsessive, too clingy, that my love was suffocating him. So the day I found he'd booked three tickets to Zurich—one for himself, one for our daughter, one for another woman—I signed the consent form.

He said the treatment was temporary. That once I was "better," we'd still be a family.

Three months later, I walked out of that clinic. I remembered the white roses at our wedding. I remembered sitting up all night with our daughter when she had a fever. I remembered every time he'd told me he loved me. All those memories were still there, as clear as if they'd happened yesterday.

But when he stood before me holding flowers, eyes red, asking why I wouldn't fight anymore, why I wouldn't cry, why I didn't love him anymore—I could only tell him calmly:

I remember loving you.

That feeling, though? It's really gone.

He thought he was erasing my pain. He had no idea what he'd actually erased.

My daughter helped my husband cheat.

My ten-year-old begged me to take her to a summer camp in Italy. My husband looked at her like she hung the moon. Booked the tickets right there.

I thought I was the luckiest mom alive.

Then I checked the pet camera from overseas.

There he was, fucking my daughter's riding instructor on our couch.

But what really killed me? What he said, "Don't worry. Nina wants that horse bad enough, she'll keep her mom in Europe as long as we need."

Back home, my husband dropped a receipt. Two identical limited edition watches.

He froze. My sweet daughter didn't miss a beat, "Dad used the other one to bribe someone so I could get my horse!"

They lied in perfect sync. That's when something in me broke.

They thought I was still that stupid, trusting wife.

What they didn't know?

I'd already signed a contract. Going back to my art career in New York.

Look, I'd heard the rumors: Skyward International's flight attendants? You never see 'em anywhere but the airport. Not once. Kinda spooky, but my coworker drops this smirk—"First time? You'll get it"—and I'm boarding Flight 6108, heart pounding.

This chief stewardess, Tiffany? Stunning. Locks eyes, buckles me in, perfume hits like a drug. Later, service cart rolls up. "Airsick? C'mon." Door shuts in the crew lounge. Boom—she's on her knees. "Relaxation service." Zipper down, wipes me clean, then swallows my cock whole. Balls-deep, tongue on my sack, cheeks sucking vacuum. "Big one," she whispers, eyes pleading like she needs my okay.

My name is Charles Cole, a blind lactation therapist.
Of course, apart from pretending to be blind, all my skills are genuine.
Ophelia sat on the bed and slowly took off her top right in front of me, her beautiful figure revealing its spring allure under the golden warm sunlight.
“Mr. Cole, let's begin!”
I nodded, reaching forward with both hands, yet I didn't dare show the slightest unusual expression on my face.
The reason was simple: Ophelia's husband, Russell, was standing coldly right behind me at that moment.

My husband abandoned a billion-dollar deal and flew back overnight for me.

Everyone envied Mrs. Harris and her perfect life.

Only I knew that when he knelt by my bed, holding my hand, his cuff was still stained with another woman's breastmilk.

He thought I'd just taken a fall.

He didn't know that while he was cradling his bastard child with that tender smile, our baby had already dissolved into a pool of blood and left me forever.

This time, I won't make a scene. I won't love him anymore.

I slipped the suicide note I'd written long ago into the drawer.

And on this rainy night, I began planning a "death" that would belong to me alone.

I gave five years to my husband's ambition—and got betrayal in return.

Forty-three days without a break on the Imperial City project. I collapsed from exhaustion and woke up in the hospital. He never picked up the phone.

He was too busy celebrating his mistress's birthday.

The blonde hair wrapped around his jacket was like a slap to the face. I'd cut my own hair short years ago because he said long hair wasn't "professional." He just meant it wasn't professional on me.

He promised we'd move to Imperial City together once he succeeded. But he was always too busy—except when it came to touring my project sites with her.

I'd had enough.

I froze the accounts. Pulled the funding. Took back everything I'd built.

He tried to push me out of my own position, so I reclaimed the patents and withdrew my support.

He called a press conference to save face. I attended—as an executive at his largest competitor.

I watched him crumble.

For five years, I held him up. And for five years, he treated me like something disposable.

He forgot that the empire he thought he built was never his.

It was always mine.

In order to rush to comfort his assistant whose apartment was leaking, Richard signed his name hastily without even glancing at the documents on the table.
I put away the divorce agreement with a wry smile.
When he and my son completely disappeared, he finally panicked.
Three months later .
He knelt down on the streets of Chicago in despair, begging me to remarry him.
My six-year-old son looked coldly at his biological father and said, "Get lost, you bad uncle! You don't deserve to be my dad!"

"I want you to fuck yourself. Long… deep and slow. Because I know it will be my face that you will see when you come." These were the words Elias Miles whispered into Chloe Bennett's ear, shattering her professional composure and reminding her that the man who owned the company also owned her every desire.

@@@@@

Chloe Bennett thought she had found the perfect escape when she spent a wild, anonymous night in Boston with a handsome stranger named Lio. Twelve months later, she lands her dream job in New York City, only to discover that her "Lio" is actually Elias Miles the notoriously cold, arrogant, and breathtakingly powerful CEO of Miles Media.

As Chloe navigates the treacherous waters of corporate espionage and high-stakes media wars, she must decide if she can handle the "all-or-nothing" intensity of a man who refuses to be second to anyone. With a rival media mogul breathing down their necks and a past that refuses to stay buried, their connection is tested by secrets, scandals, and a deep-seated fear of commitment.

Can Chloe Bennett break through the ice around Elias’s heart, or will this high-powered world of luxury and lies tear them apart for good? Does Elias Miles truly have a heart, or was Chloe just another stopover in his life?

"You can't be serious," Bethany whispered, cradling the emerald Caleb had placed in her hand.
"I've never been more certain," Caleb said, his silver gaze locked on hers. "I would give you the world if I could. But all I want is you. My mate."
Her breath caught. "You barely know me."
Caleb's fingers trailed up her cheek. "I've waited forty years to find you, Bethany. I knew you the moment I caught your scent. And I'm never letting you go."
Caleb is the unmated Alpha of a cursed werewolf pack until he meets Bethany, a shy diner waitress with a hidden strength that shakes his world. For decades, Caleb believed fate had abandoned him. But one glance, one touch, one scent changes everything.
Bethany doesn't believe in fairy tales. Abandoned at birth, she's lived a life of invisibility and heartbreak. So when the dangerously compelling Caleb declares her his mate, her world turns upside down.
With bear shifters closing in and the full moon rising, Caleb and Bethany must defy the rules of nature, power, and fate to claim a love destined to save an entire pack.

"Well, well, well," hearing a low voice behind me with a teasing tone, I could only turn my head to the side to face his gaze.

"What?" my voice was quiet.

He smiled slowly.
"Do you understand that you belong only to me here? From the moment you broke into my house?"

I could only blink my eyes.
"You are threatening me?"

Laughing at my question as if he had heard the best joke, I felt his eyes slide over my body.
"Oh no, dear. That's a promise."

On the day of the flash marriage, the newlywed husband left Shelley for a business trip. Since it was a marriage of convenience, Shelley thought they would lead separate lives. Unexpectedly, her husband suddenly proposed they should be a real couple. But he didn't give Shelley his door password when she moved to his apartment. Besides, Shelley sent him a message, but he treated it as harassment... Shelley Harper was speechless and thought to herself, "Mr. Layton, you must be kidding me." When Shelley wanted to return to her original position, she suddenly discovered she had growing contact with him. He always showed up when she was in need, like an umbrella holding the sky above her head. Until she was moved by his sincerity and was willing to sign Universe Inc., she found her husband was a wealthy man when she negotiated the contract. And her identity as the design guru's student was about to be exposed... There was also Shelley's family who suddenly appeared, and her elder brother who crazily spoiled her. Shelley's life suddenly became... a little happy, and more than a little!

"Be mine." On their first meeting, he forced her to be his lover. "Once I've earned enough money, I'll leave. Goodbye." She walked away gracefully with her burden. The demon Mafia king spread the word worldwide: "There is no way for you to escape." This was a game of conquest and counter-conquest, whoever fell in love first would lose, and she couldn't afford the price. The only thing she could hold onto was her own heart

Sierra always knew that Eric didn't love her as much. Their love was just a transaction. When his lover returned, he gradually stopped coming home, and Sierra stayed in the empty room, spending countless nights without him. Later on, she waited for a check and his goodbye.
When they met again, she had another man by her side. Eric said with red eyes: "Sierra, I was the one who pursued you first." "Mr. Howard, it was also you who initiated the breakup! If you want to date me again, you might have to wait in line..." The next day, Sierra received a transfer of billions of dollars along with a diamond ring attached to it. Mr. Howard knelt down on one knee and said: "Miss Adler, I would like to cut in line."

My malicious stepsister threatened me with my brother's life, forcing me to marry a man rumored to be unspeakably ugly. I had no choice but to comply.
However, after the wedding, I discovered that this man was not ugly at all; on the contrary, he was both handsome and charming, and he was also a billionaire!
（I highly recommend a captivating book that I couldn't put down for three days and nights. It's incredibly engaging and a must-read. The title of the book is "After Car Sex with the CEO." You can find it by searching for it in the search bar.）

As the substitute bride, I was viewed by my father as a pawn and by my stepmother as someone of no worth.
Abandoned by my father and sent to the countryside while still a child, I finally returned home, only to be swiftly discarded once more—this time, to a mental institution at my stepmother's behest.
It was not until three years later that I was released, my freedom bought solely for the purpose of taking my stepsister's place in marriage to the Sterling family.
"The Sterling family's wealth is beyond measure, and William Sterling is a rare and worthy gentleman. To marry into their house in your sister's stead is a blessing—don't forget your place!"
Yet all knew that William, crippled in a car accident, was no longer who he once was—moody, volatile, and, as rumors went, not long for this world
No one could have foreseen that after our wedding, William's legs would miraculously heal.
And only then did they begin to realize that this new young female was far from ordinary. As the truth was unearthed, they were left in astonishment.
This woman was a true queen.

"If you want to get your needs met tonight, it will be with me and no other man. Am I clear?"

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Charlotte Hendry escaped Houston's gilded cage to chase freedom on her own terms, graduate school in New York, a secret life in New Orleans, and absolutely zero entanglements. Maverick Pierce built his empire from nothing, turning poverty and pain into a billion-dollar media dynasty. Neither of them planned for a collision that would shatter every rule they had carefully constructed.

When Maverick discovers Charlotte at his favorite private BDSM club, he faces an impossible choice: walk away or claim the one woman who challenges every part of him. Their connection burns fast and undeniable. But Charlotte's independence and Maverick's possessive nature could destroy what neither of them expected to find.

Can two people who were never looking for love actually build something real?

After rebirth, Emily Green left her respectable job and a toxic family, becoming the most sought-after housekeeper in high society.
Her skills are unmatched—there was no problem she couldn't solve, and every employer dreamed of bringing her home.
Her schedule was booked for a year, and even billionaire CEO Morris Anderson had to wait in line to see her.
One day, Morris, staring at her fully booked calendar until the next year, gritted his teeth and told his assistant. "Buy the agency. From now on, she only takes my jobs."
When Emily finally finished her tasks, Morris seized the moment and asked, "Ms. Green, could I book your services for life?"
Emily hesitated, then asked, "Will... I still get paid?"
Morris smiled, his eyes glinting, "Payment? Let's settle it differently."

Meet Sophia, an everyday white-collar worker, and Remington, a formidable Hapa billionaire. Their story unfolds in the rugged beauty of Yellowstone National Park, where Sophia's heroism saves Remington's father from a perilous situation. Initially aloof, Remington reluctantly consents to a year-long contract marriage with Sophia. What would happen next?

Alison and Alexander have been married for three years but never met. During the day, she is his hired tutor, taking his salary and being enslaved by him. At night, Alison is the wife of a CEO, lying in Alexander's arms, enjoying his kisses and hearing his plea: "Can we extend the deadline of our contractual marriage?"

My foster mother abused me, and my stepsister was a despicable bitch who often bullied and framed me. This place was no longer a home to me; it had become a cage, a living hell!
At this moment, my biological parents found me and rescued me from hell. I had originally thought they were very poor, but the reality left me utterly astonished!
My biological parents turned out to be billionaires, and they doted on me immensely. I became a princess with a fortune worth billions. Not only that, but I also had a handsome and wealthy fiancé...
（I highly recommend a captivating book that I couldn't put down for three days and nights. It's incredibly engaging and a must-read. The title of the book is "Forbidden Love," and the author's name is Olivia. You can find it by searching in the search bar.)

Tally Barca is done with her "all-star asshole" ex and ready to rebuild. What she's not ready for is being the fated mate to two powerful shifter alphas—the dominant Theron and the gentle Connor. With a malicious ex and a jealous rival on her tail, Tally must unlock her own latent power to claim her place in the pack and in their hearts.

If you love steamy shifter romance, fated mates, and a heroine finding her strength, you need to read Tally's story from start to finish!.

For the full experience, read from beginning to end. I can't wait to hear your comment❤️🙏

"Look how wet you are," Philip growled, his cock thrusting deep. "I'm not interested."

Catherine smiled. "It doesn't matter, so long as I'm intrigued by you," she whispered, stroking his cock, sliding onto him with a slow, teasing grind, her soaked pussy gripping him tightly.

Motivated by revenge, Catherine Levin used herself as bait to trap the ruthless tycoon Philip Foster in a web of desire and deceit.

As his beloved ex returned, he cast Catherine aside. However, her drunken confession revealed her true identity: the innocent girl he had known eight years prior.

What else could this woman be hiding?

Five years ago, I was drugged by my stepsister. Given the necessity to cover my tuition, I ultimately accepted the situation. I felt his scalding breath against my ear, his rough fingers grazing my inner thighs, igniting a numb, electric ache. His hard cock pressed against my soaked pussy, driving my heartbeat wild, my body instinctively arching, craving deeper thrust.
After that reckless night, I left in disgrace, only to find myself pregnant with triplets.
Five years later, I returned as a shining new talent in the medical field, ready to take revenge on my stepmother, stepsister and father.
Then Harrison Frost appeared, gazing at the tiny versions of himself, urging them to call him "Dad."
He peeled off his shirt, grinning. "Hey, wanna relive that night's heat?"

The book 2, Ghost Whispers, is now exclusively available on the NovelCat.
We invite you to search for and bookmark the book, and continue exploring this mysterious world with us.


My name is Katia, and I am just trying to survive until my fated mate arrives. Which may be easier said than done.
Rejectection is the last straw. Whispering my acceptance of his rejection.
I run through the pack house, out across the manicured lawn into the forest. "I'm sorry, my sweet girl," I say to my wolf. I'm sorry you have been stuck with me and have had to suffer everything I have. She whispers," it's not your fault, Katia. We came to a cliff with a waterfall. The hurt keeps pounding at me. I need it to stop. My sweet girl, and I just want peace, I keep running and leap off the cliff. Spreading my arms wide, with tears streaming down my face, I fall, not making a sound, waiting for sweet oblivion where we feel nothing ever again. "I love you, my sweet girl! Until we meet again, "My wolf replied just before we hit the water, "I love you too, Katia. I have never regretted a moment with you."
The Snow Moon pack is having their last barbecue of the summer next to the waterfall on their land. The adults are laughing and joking while watching the pups play. The alpha, beta, and gamma are swimming with some of the older children and playing a game of Marco Polo.
Someone yells, “Oh my goddess, someone just jumped over the waterfall!" Everyone is frozen as they watch what looks to be a child falling arms spread wide, no one makes a sound. The small body hits the water like a plane crashing into the side of a mountain.
The alpha, beta, and gamma, spring into action, swimming towards the area the person went under. The alpha is screaming his wolf is going crazy repeating, “Find her. Find her...find her!" They dive and the beta surfaces with a small person in his arms. Alpha takes the girl from his beta, laying her on the ground. The men are shocked by what they see. She is covered in scars and injuries. Her body is twisted and broken. The Beta asks, "Who could have done this to someone so defenseless?"
Alpha drops to his knees, repeating, "MATE...MATE...MATE!"

Some cravings are too dark to resist.
Behind closed doors, in hushed whispers and stolen glances, lies a world where love is forbidden, lust is untamed, and every touch feels like crossing the line. Forbidden Desires: A Forbidden Erotica Collection strips away innocence and plunges into the wicked realm of taboo romances, where stepfathers ruin virginal stepdaughters, stepbrothers become sinful obsessions, tutors seduce their own students, and best friends betray each other with raw, unfiltered passion.
Each story is sharp, dirty, and drenched in temptation. From secret masturbations that spiral into seduction, to forbidden hands that should never touch but do. These tales aren't for the faint of heart. They're for the hungry. Desperate. The ones who crave what society says is wrong.
You've been warned. Open this book, and surrender yourself to the sins you've always fantasized about.