1018 Book(s) Related to ruby and bella

My name is Nora Monroe. Thirty-two weeks pregnant, ready to pop anytime.
This morning, my husband Everett left town, leaving me and my cat, Piper, alone at home.
Deep into the night, a strange woman called. Her voice was gentle, apologetic—she said my cat Piper had somehow wandered downstairs. She was severely allergic to cat dander and couldn't bring her up to me. I grabbed my coat, ready to head down, when the baby suddenly gave me a vicious kick. The pain sent me collapsing back onto the sofa, unable to move.
The woman on the phone urged me over and over. I looked up, my eyes falling on the corner of the living room.
Piper was sitting right there, staring unblinkingly at me...

Married to Declan Hargrove for three years, I kept my past locked away tight. I let no one near Greybell, and I never, ever mentioned the name Calloway.
Until Piper excitedly dug up the "incest scandal" between me and my own brother. The Hargrove family booked their flights that very night, vowing to fly to Greybell and tear my "white-trash" parents to shreds.
I knelt on the carpet, shaking and sobbing.
But hiding behind the curtain of my long hair, no one saw the truth. I wasn’t begging for my own life.
I was begging for theirs.
Because my brother, Reid, had already gotten the news. He was in Greybell right now, preparing an unforgettable "feast" for our arrogant guests.

I inherited my mother’s breathtaking beauty, while my sister was cursed with our father’s plain, vulgar looks.
Consumed by jealousy, she married early and settled into a mundane life, while I was kept entirely imprisoned by our mother—forbidden to date, forbidden to marry.
Whenever I brought a boyfriend home, my mother would take him into that mysterious locked bathroom.
Every single man who walked out of there would have glazed eyes and a flushed look of utter ecstasy. Then, without fail, they would coldly abandon me. Even the man who swore to marry me completely succumbed—to the point where he was having sex with my mother in the garden in broad daylight!
What’s even more bizarre is that whenever any female relative stepped into that bathroom, they came out looking at me with vicious hatred, joining forces to spit on me.
Betrayed by everyone and pushed to the brink, I decided to flee this demonic house in the dead of night.
But the moment I peeked through the crack of the door and finally caught a glimpse inside that bathroom, the blood in my veins turned to ice.
Only then did I horrifyingly realize the true reason my mother was willing to destroy my entire life...

During routine rounds, I never gave Linus Crewe a second thought. Nineteen years old, diagnosed with persistent hallucinatory disorder, just another trust fund kid tossed into the psych ward like garbage by his own family.
But that day, he locked eyes with me and claimed that the moment his skin touched someone else's, he could see their deepest, darkest secrets.
I scoffed. As a female doctor who married into money, harbored a thirst for revenge, and kept a secret lover on the side, someone seeing through my facade was my ultimate nightmare.
I thought he was just playing mind games.
Until he recounted, word for word, things even my husband didn't know. He just smiled and said: Then tell me, Dr. Hollister... why is your heart racing when you look at me?

Dorian, my boyfriend of three years, was a partner at a top-tier Boston law firm. He was gentle, refined, and absolutely flawless.
A week ago, he buried his face in my neck late at night, whispering that the city was suffocating him. He wanted to take me back to his hometown to meet Octavia, the grandmother who had single-handedly raised him.
I agreed without hesitation.
But on Crane Island, every night Dorian would slip out of our bed, using Octavia's gout as an excuse.
Until that night. I crept barefoot to Octavia’s door and pressed my ear against the wood.
What I heard wasn’t a sick old woman. It was Dorian’s heavy panting, mixed with the shameless, breathy moans of a young woman...

I got off work two hours early, hoping to surprise my boyfriend whom I had just bailed out for $30,000.
I pushed the bedroom door open. The surprise was on me—my stepsister Chloe was straddling Dorian. The same man who, just three days ago, sat crying on the police station floor swearing "I only have you," now slowly lit a cigarette and asked if I wanted to join them.
I thought that was the worst moment of my life.
I was wrong.
When the hand that had just been caressing Chloe gripped my throat and hoisted me into the air, I finally saw the truth. Dorian Vane, the guy who humiliated me at our high school prom ten years ago, hadn't changed at all.

In my first life, blinded by greed, I claimed to be that mysterious woman. Silas glanced at my left shoulder and said coldly, "No butterfly tattoo." His bodyguards dragged me to the backyard and shattered my ribs with a baseball bat.
In my second life, Cleo learned from my mistake. She got the butterfly tattoo at an underground parlor. But Silas lifted her skirt and sneered, "No birthmark on her inner thigh." We were thrown into the frozen lake behind the mountain.
"Find her. She's in the West Wing." Silas Brennan's cold command echoed through the Brennan Estate again. Cleo and I locked eyes, terror gripping us.
We were the only maids in the West Wing.

As the heiress to the Sinclair family, I inherited billions, yet a car crash left my legs completely paralyzed, confining me to a cold wheelchair for the rest of my life.
My husband, Dashiell, spent three years meticulously caring for me—pushing my chair, feeding me my meds, and holding me as I slept.
That evening, while I was soaking in a warm bath, he pushed the door open. His handsome face carried that familiar smile: "Honey, can I... have you in the tub?"
"I'm a bit tired today," I rubbed my temples and softly declined. "Carry me out."
The moment the words left my lips, his smile twisted hideously. With a vicious sneer, he grabbed my neck and shoved my head brutally underwater...

I was taking six-year-old Arabella to fit her dress for the theater's grand opening.
As we crossed the intersection, a truck suddenly lost control and T-boned our car.
When I opened my eyes again, an agonizing pain ripped through me. I opened my mouth to call out Everett's name, only to hear his hushed voice seeping through the crack in the door—
"Staging an unavoidable accident was the only way to use the emergency room as a cover for the drug trial."
"Now that Ophelia's treatment is a success, there's naturally no need for that little bastard to live."
My Arabella. She was secretly wheeled into the operating room by him, used as a human guinea pig for his mistress Delilah's daughter, who had bone cancer. Her sweet, bell-like vocal cords were cruelly carved out and transplanted into another child's throat.
In that defining moment, I realized he had never loved my daughter.
But what he didn't know—the child he just murdered with his own hands was his one and only flesh and blood.

Eight years of marriage. Fluent in seven languages. Yet I never dared speak a word in front of my husband.

He claimed to be allergic to my voice—hearing me talk gave him headaches, ringing ears, made his whole body ache.

To change my voice, I underwent four vocal cord surgeries. My voice became hoarse, rough as sandpaper scraping concrete. But no matter how hard I tried, he still clutched his ears in pain.

For eight years, I blamed myself. I thought I was the one dragging him down.

Until our anniversary, when our daughter casually yanked off his "hearing aid" and tossed it on the couch.

I picked it up and put it in my ear. What I heard was my cousin Freya's flirtatious voice, and his tender response.

That moment, I finally understood—

No matter what I did, all this man ever wanted from me was silence.

Siren's Reef only breeds women.
On this isolated island, Henrietta's orphanage takes in all fatherless girls. She raises us until our eighteenth birthday—the night of the "Coral Crowning," an annual coming-of-age ritual that supposedly earns the Sea God's blessing.
My sister Saffron and I are identical twins, raised wearing the exact same face.
But on this island, the same face doesn't spell the same fate. She was the one Henrietta spoiled from birth; I was the one allowed to trail behind her.
I thought it would always be this way. Until she died. Henrietta claimed Saffron broke the rules and was flayed alive by the serrated edges of the reef. But that day, I saw it with my own eyes: Saffron's signature dimple had appeared on Henrietta's cheek—where none had been before.

My billionaire lover brought out a bespoke mermaid gown, declaring he would marry whoever could fit into it.
But in my past four lives, every woman who tried it on—whether an ambitious imposter or me, his true love—was brutally tortured and murdered by him.
In my fifth rebirth, the butler knocked on our door with a polite smile, "Mr. Voss says his true love is among you."
Since we four women would die no matter who wore it...
We exchanged a look in the dead silence, turned our heads in perfect unison, and locked our eyes onto the only man in the room.

Our clan worships the Spider Goddess.
To keep this face, every girl in our bloodline must sacrifice a truly evil man every ten years.
Just two weeks before my twentieth birthday, my mom asked me again over the phone:
"Sweetie, is it really that hard to find a sufficiently bad guy in a place like Ashfield?"
Right now, I’m looking at my boyfriend, who just handcuffed me to a bed. He’s laughing, negotiating a price with a buyer, thinking I’m tonight’s merchandise.
I think to myself—
Mom, I can answer your question now. This guy’s wickedness easily rivals your husband's—my father.

Three years of marriage. Three pregnancies.

Every time I confirmed I was pregnant, my sister-in-law Ophelia would walk into the chapel behind the manor.

Then my in-laws would drag me to the hospital and force me to abort the healthy baby.

The night after my third miscarriage, I dragged my weakened body to follow her into the chapel.

The moment I pushed open that door, my blood ran cold.

In that instant, I finally understood why my three children had to die.

“A powerful opener to a series [that] will produce a combination of feisty protagonists and challenging circumstances to thoroughly involve not just young adults, but adult fantasy fans who seek epic stories fueled by powerful friendships and adversaries.”--Midwest Book Review (Diane Donovan) (re A Throne for Sisters)“Morgan Rice's imagination is limitless!”--Books and Movie Reviews (re A Throne for Sisters)From #1 Bestselling fantasy author Morgan Rice comes a new series for middle grade readers—and adults, too! Fans of Harry Potter and Percy Jackson—look no further!THE MAGIC FACTORY: OLIVER BLUE AND THE SCHOOL FOR SEERS (BOOK ONE) tells the story of 11 year old Oliver Blue, a boy unloved by his hateful family. Oliver knows he is different, and senses that he holds powers that others do not. Obsessed with inventions, Oliver is determined to escape his horrible life and make his mark on the world.When Oliver is moved to yet another awful house he is put into in a new sixth grade, one even more terrifying than the last. He is bullied and excluded, and sees no way out. But when he stumbles across an abandoned invention factory, he wonders if his dreams might be about to come true.Who is the mysterious old inventor hiding in the factory? What is his secret invention?And will Oliver end up transported back in time, to 1944, to a magical school for kids with powers to rival his own?An uplifting fantasy, THE MAGIC FACTORY is book #1 in a riveting new series filled with magic, love, humor, heartbreak, tragedy, destiny, and a series of shocking twists. It will make you fall in love with Oliver Blue, and keep you turning pages late into the night.Book #2 in the series (THE ORB OF KANDRA) and Book #3 (THE OBSIDIANS) are now also available! “The beginnings of something remarkable are there.” --San Francisco Book Review (re A Quest of Heroes)

"Who would want a woman like Hazel?"
On the night before our wedding, my fiancé Randy said this in front of everyone.
I stood outside, listening silently before walking away.
Sure enough, at the wedding, he abandoned me to save my sister who was jumping from a building.
"The wedding continues!"
I said with a smile, turning to embrace my disabled husband.
Afterward, I did exactly as they wished, ensuring they would never be apart.
Half a month later, I looked at my ex-fiancé with contempt.
"Compared to my husband, are you even worth mentioning?"

Three years. He worshipped me by day and bedded her by night.
I saw everything. I felt everything—she made sure of that.
So on the night of his coronation, I severed our bond and walked away.
He bled. He knelt. He begged.
Too late.
When I wore white again, it wasn't for him.

In my past life, I replaced my runaway sister Beatrice and was forced to marry mob enforcer Rowan Sinclair.
She thought he was poor with no future, so she ran. My parents didn't even tell me before sending me in her place.
Rowan knew the truth. He carried it like shame, never truly seeing me—only cold stares and silent contempt. I spent years beside him like an unwanted ghost, carefully managing his world while he rose from despised smuggler to feared godfather.
Then his attitude began to change.
Just when I thought we might have a real future, Beatrice returned with tears and lies, claiming I'd stolen her place. Rowan believed her. My parents betrayed me. Everyone chose her.
When a rival family captured us both, guns to our heads, only one could survive.
Rowan pulled Beatrice into his arms and abandoned me without a glance.
They tortured me for three days. The baby in my womb died first. Its father never knew it existed.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back to that afternoon before it all began.

In a secluded modern villa, painter Iris Vale begins to suspect the pills hidden in her meals are stealing more than her sleep. As fragments of a buried night resurface—bleached kitchens, a locked basement, shattered glass on a staircase, and the shadow of her dead sister Nora—family protection curdles into psychological captivity. Dark, tense, and intimate, this is a memory-thriller of guilt, control, and the terror of facing what was done in the name of love.

"I want to break off this engagement!" I stormed into his office, slamming the letter on his desk, my heart pounding with fury after being humiliated by his family's staff. Little did I know, the devastatingly handsome man staring back at me wasn't my fiancé at all—he was his uncle, Rex Sterling, who'd lied about being my betrothed to win me over.

What started as a forced arrangement exploded into a whirlwind of passion: lavish gifts, stolen kisses, and a secret wedding that made me Mrs. Sterling. But when the truth shattered our fairy tale at a family gathering—complete with a punch-throwing nephew and scandalized elite—I had to confront the beautiful lie that built our love.

After being reborn, the first thing my sister and I did was swap our grooms.
In our past life, my gentle sister Elara married Felix Hawthorne, the mafia godfather of Marconi City. Surrounded by a domineering sister-in-law and a scheming, manipulative other woman, she was slowly driven into a corner and died of a broken heart.
Meanwhile, I married the polite, illegitimate son of the Graves family. He was a perfect gentleman, but he just didn't love me. Our marriage lasted three years, and we were separated for two and a half of them.
Then one day, Elara and I woke up at the exact same moment—we had been reborn, back to the very morning we were supposed to sign our marriage agreements...

My six-year-old daughter Emily blurted, "I'm getting a new mommy!" while my son Jacob smirked.

"Oh my God, Nate—your sister? Pregnant with your kid? You sick bastard!" I screamed across the restaurant, my voice cracking like thunder as heads snapped around.

For eight years, I'd slaved like a nanny in our home—cooking, cleaning, raising Jacob and Emily—while he dismissed me as worthless. My own kids sneered, calling me lazy and saying I'd never measure up to their Aunt Chloe. Even his venomous mother Barbara spat insults, grinding me under her heel like dirt. Betrayed by them all, I finally snapped.

Little did they know, my mom's $100 million inheritance unlocked the second I divorced that cheat. From doormat wife to billionaire, I rose—exposing their lies, reclaiming my life.

Game over, asshole. Time to watch you beg.

I tricked my billionaire husband into signing divorce papers—he had no idea.

"Exam documents," I lied.

His ex-wife laughed. "Boring paperwork. Don't bother reading it."

He signed without even looking.

Three years of marriage. I thought he'd learn to love me. Ever since she came back, my dinners grew cold while I reheated them alone. I waited in our bed, night after night. I watched him drop everything and run to her with every phone call.

Then I found out I was pregnant.

That same day, I saw him at the hospital—holding her hand, asking about her baby.

I finally stopped waiting.

I left the estate at dawn. Left behind the jewelry, the designer clothes, the empty promises.

Then he showed up at my door.

"I know about the baby," his voice was raw. "I know about the accident. I know everything."

He looked at me like I was his entire world.

Three years too late? Or just in time?

Everyone says I’m crazy.
My husband, Adrien, is Ashmont College’s most esteemed professor—suave, composed, and highly logical. I, on the other hand, am an investigative journalist whose nerves are fried by looming deadlines and too much caffeine. Yet, I insist there’s a woman who shares my exact face, who crawls out of our bedroom mirror every night and slips into my husband’s bed.
Our security cameras always "happen" to glitch at the crucial moments. My son avoids me like I’m a monster, and my neighbors claim they cheerfully greeted "me" in the driveway a few days ago—even though I don't even own a vintage pink dress.
Adrien has started dropping phrases like "psych evaluation" and "sole custody." If I let this drag on any longer, he’s going to personally commit me to a psych ward.
So tonight, I lied about flying to Chicago. Instead, I’m hiding in my own study—waiting for that identical face to crawl out of the mirror one more time.

The day he proposed, Atticus knelt before me, holding the Hale family's heirloom necklace.
I thought I had finally survived the ordeal.
After eight years of unrequited love, being humiliated by his sister, nitpicked by his mother, and mocked by the city's socialites for being unworthy of the Hales... Until this very moment, when he personally fastened the heirloom around my neck. Everyone saw it. I, Clara, was finally accepted by the Hale family.
Tears in my eyes, I said yes, thinking it was the happiest moment of my life.
But just days after putting on that necklace, bizarre red rashes crawled up my neck. My pale skin rotted away piece by piece, and my internal organs went into irreversible failure.
The most absurd part? The exact same day I started rotting, his dying mother miraculously cured her terminal illness, and his sister's half-destroyed face was restored to flawless perfection.
Disfigured and barely looking human, I threw myself off the Harbour Bridge—
I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day of the proposal.

That night, I was dragged into a parking lot and beaten until my hands could never hold a scalpel again.

I thought it was random. Until I heard my own brother and fiancé talking—

"Those thugs went too far, but the result works out, doesn't it? This time, the award will go to Charlotte."

Charlotte. The "poor orphan" my family adopted.

For twelve years, she stole my papers, my opportunities, my glory. And the two men I trusted most handed her everything on a silver platter.

They called me spoiled. Selfish. Difficult.

They even believed I started the fire that killed our parents twelve years ago.

But here's the truth: Charlotte started that fire. I was the one who dragged them out.

They thanked the wrong sister. For twelve years.

Now they want me dead.

Fine. Let Penelope Ashworth die.

I died on the day I was supposed to marry Grayson.
Because my sister Delilah had her heart "broken," my family decided to bring her to our farm in Ashwood to heal through horseback riding. The wedding was postponed.
I lay in the stable at the Clarke family farm, dialing my mother's number with blood-covered fingers.
All she said was: "What kind of game are you playing now? You think if you act pitiful we'll come running? Vivienne, enough!"
My fiancé Grayson was even more brutal: "It's just a postponement, not a cancellation. If you can't handle that, then let's just call the whole thing off—I'll marry Delilah instead."
This was the last time they would disappoint me.
And the last time I would call for help.
I lay in my own pool of blood, already without breath. They thought I was just throwing a tantrum, hiding somewhere to sulk. They thought if they ignored me long enough, I'd come crawling back to apologize.
But they didn't know.
I was already dead.

Everyone says I married the perfect husband—considerate, devoted, loving.
I thought I had happiness too, until my neighbor told me she'd seen "me" having sex with Declan multiple times over the summer, even against the floor-to-ceiling windows. But during those two months, I'd been with my son out of town the entire time.
I rushed home and heard 8-year-old Beckett on the phone, bragging to his father: "Dad, I got Mom out of the way for two whole months. Did you make up with your sweetheart? Where's my allowance?"
I pulled up the security footage and saw a woman wearing my nightgown, with my husband, in every corner of our home... I spent eight years building this family, and they betrayed me together.

My adopted sister, Cordelia, conspired with her biological mother to harvest my organs alive, yet she had the audacity to claim I paid thugs to rape her.
My biological parents didn't bother to ask for the truth. They cursed me, calling me a vicious bastard, and threatened to break my legs.
My fiancé, Caspian, coldly announced the cancellation of our engagement, declaring he would marry the very murderer who killed me.
I had been dead for exactly three days. No one cared. My body was rotting back in a moldy storage room.
Through it all, my soul was trapped in the manor, forced to witness this absurd farce.
But what they didn't expect was that when they finally learned of my death—
Everyone went completely insane.

My mother had no medical license, yet wealthy socialites lined up to hand her fat checks.
I often saw her lead those women into the treatment room, where agonizing screams would pierce through the locked door.
But strangely, those same women emerged radiant, as if they'd shed twenty or thirty years overnight, pressing stacks of cash into her hands with tearful gratitude.
What baffled me more was how she doted on the hired girls like her own daughters.
Yet toward me, her actual daughter, she was nothing but cold—always quick to criticize or strike.
Finally one day, curiosity won. I mustered the courage to peek through that door crack and saw what really happened inside...

I've been to four weddings. I never made it through a single one.
Not because I didn't love enough. Not because they weren't good enough. It was because every time — right at the moment I was supposed to say I do — my parents would appear on cue, fall apart on cue, and burn everything to the ground on cue.
For years I thought they hated me. Thought they'd given all their love to my dead sister, Claudia, and had nothing left. Then my brother-in-law said something that cracked me open: Any one of those three men — if you'd married him, you wouldn't be alive today.
So which is it? Were they protecting me, or destroying me?

To end two years of a long-distance marriage with my husband, Sutton Brennan, I quit my job and moved halfway across the state to join his top-tier medical center.
But from the moment I clocked in on day one, a nightmare awaited me.
IV pain pumps violently popped open in my hands, medication cabinets rejected my fingerprints, coffee machines sprayed me with boiling water, microwaves exploded in public, and the employee lockers locked me out entirely.
My colleagues laughed at me, calling me a walking disaster. The head nurse publicly berated me for being incompetent. And my husband, the man I trusted most, simply smiled his gentle smile and said, "You're just tense. Give it a few more days."
In my past life, I believed him. I gritted my teeth and held on until the bitter end—and ultimately died inside this very hospital.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my first day of work.

I was murdered. My body was dumped on the riverbank.
The detective leading the case is Brennan Carter — my husband. He has sworn to find the killer of this "unidentified female." He doesn't know the victim is me.
I've been missing for seven days. My colleagues and supervisors keep calling Brennan to ask where I am. Dismissing it as a tantrum, he's spent the week doing one thing: celebrating his mistress Tessa's birthday.
It wasn't until my phone turned up at the crime scene that it finally hit him — the wife he'd wished would disappear might actually be gone.

Four years ago, Giovanni dumped me in front of everyone at an upscale restaurant. Two weeks later, he was engaged to Rosanna. I made a fool of myself begging on his doorstep, became the laughingstock of Ferro City.
Four years later, he runs into me at Casa Valentino, assumes I'm destitute, and offers me a job as a cleaner for him.
What he doesn't know is that the plainly dressed woman standing before him is the wife of Don Alessandro Valentino—the man the entire underworld bows to.

I was the best student, the most obedient, the most compliant—yet the only unloved child in our family.

When my brother got into fights, I took his punishment. When my sister snuck out with boys, I bore the consequences. Mom force-fed me pills and made me get my stomach pumped just to scare my brother away from smoking. Dad dressed ten-year-old me like a prostitute and threw me into a bar to warn my sister against going astray.

In the end, they sold me to a gambler for a few hundred dollars.

I died in a dark pond, and no one heard me calling for help.

But when my spirit drifted home, they were gathered around the dinner table, laughing and talking as if nothing was wrong.

It wasn't until the police knocked on their door that they realized—I had been missing for seven whole days.

Later, my brother clutched the chocolate he never got to give me, crying every day. My sister dreamed every night of ten-year-old me struggling and screaming in that bar. Dad knelt at my grave daily, consumed by guilt. And Mom, after killing that gambler, threw herself into the same pond where I had drowned.

Finally, they loved me.

But I was already dead.

On the night of Reeve’s birthday, I drove to his family’s coastal estate with a premium ribeye and a bottle of Pinot Noir, ready to give him a romantic surprise.
But the rug was shifted three inches, and a single drop of dark blood hid in the floorboards. Before I could run, a gun barrel pressed against the back of my head.
The man was impeccably dressed and terrifyingly calm. Upstairs in my bathtub lay the corpse of his pregnant wife.
He ordered me to help him dispose of the body and cover up the crime. My only thought was to stall until my husband got home.
That is, until he spoke—and revealed the root of this massacre. Everything was my husband's fault.

I was Alessandro Romano's wife in name only—the mafia godfather of Belluno City.
We had the most extravagant wedding this city had ever seen: three thousand guests, flowers lining every street. Everything except a legal marriage certificate.
Over three years, he promised to sign the papers twenty-two times. He canceled every single one.
He would buy two identical necklaces, hanging one around my neck and the other around his mistress's, trading a night spent comforting her for a dismissive apology to me.
After the twenty-one broken promise, I stopped waiting.
I packed my bags and left for the one city he vowed never to enter.
What I didn't know: after I left, the man who ruled the underworld completely lost control.

To marry Vincent Romano, I survived twenty-eight near-death experiences over five years.
The first: city hall's foundation collapsed — three broken ribs. The second: a truck rollover — my right leg nearly amputated. The twenty-seventh: a chandelier in the bridal shop, three days unconscious.
All of Seren City laughed at me. Romano's most cursed bride-to-be. Yet I loved him still.
Until the twenty-eighth time.
When the bomb detonated outside city hall, I threw myself over Vincent on instinct. The blast shifted my organs and shredded my back. The day my stitches came out, I felt no relief at having survived.
Because I stood outside the study and heard his voice.
"Her organs were badly damaged. She almost actually died." Antonio's horror was audible. "Vincent, you used to treat her so well—"
"People change." A pause, then quieter: "I did want to marry her once. But before Amelia, I had no idea what it meant to truly want someone. I acknowledge the debt — I just can't spend my life repaying it." Another pause. "Father won't agree, and she won't let go easily."
"So." His voice turned to ice. "The only clean way out is to make her give up on her own. As long as Cassandra refuses to break the engagement, the accidents must continue. Until she walks away."

On the night of my 28th birthday, my husband was stuck in the OR.
The man sitting across from me at dinner was his best friend, Ronan.
I got drunk. Half-asleep, I pulled a man who smelled exactly like Nate into my bed.
When morning broke, the truth did too—the man pinning me down was Ronan. He’d used my husband’s cologne.
"From the first time I saw you, I wanted to steal you from him."
Crying, I confessed everything to Nate over the phone. Dead silence for three seconds, then he hung up.
By the time I rushed home, Ronan was dragging two suspiciously heavy black suitcases out the door. And my husband... vanished off the face of the earth.

The anonymous post’s warning came true. I was trapped in an endless loop of death.
In my first life, I took on a high-risk surgery, only to be brutally stabbed by a grieving family member afterward. Thirteen fatal wounds left me bleeding out on the floor.
In my second life, I faked an injury to avoid the operation, only to be shoved down a steep flight of stairs, resulting in extreme head trauma and a snapped neck.
In my third life, I performed the surgery alone. My reward was a cold gunshot straight through the skull.
In my fourth life, I live-streamed the entire procedure. The surgery went flawlessly, yet my throat was still slit, and my skull was crushed by a heavy blunt object.
On my deathbed, I finally glimpsed the horrifying secret hidden within the patient...

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

¢¢¢¢¢¢¢¢

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?

Ophelia was born the weakest wolf in the pack, mocked, beaten, and treated like nothing. All she ever dreamed of was the day the Moon Goddess would give her a mate who would love her despite her flaws.

But when her fated mate was revealed, he didn’t claim her. He crushed her.

“I, Alpha Dominic, reject you as my mate. You will never be my Luna.”

The words tore her apart, and the pack’s laughter sealed her fate. Cast out, abandoned, and left to die, she thought her story had ended.

But the broken girl they discarded rose. The weak omega become stronger than them all. And the Alpha who rejected her bow at her feet.

“Tell me, my sweet Mila, do you want me to stop?”

“No!” I gasp.

“Good, because no matter what, no matter who walks in, I won't,” He promised.

Killian Knight was many things, dangerous, a certified killer, devastatingly handsome, my father's business partner and married. He was not just off limits, he was forbidden, he was a sin and I was tempted enough to risk the hell fire.

He was everything that could ruin me and my body, my mind and my soul; everything was ready for it.

Mila Anderson’s life takes an unexpected turn when she succumbs to the magnetic allure of her father’s enigmatic and dangerous mafia associate. What she doesn’t know is that Killian Knight has the power to unravel everything she’s carefully built. One secret revealed could bring it all crashing down.

For Killian, one night with Mila changes everything. She’s everything he desires, yet she comes with her own web of secrets—and he’s determined to uncover every single one.

"You love me?"
"I do."
"But what about finding your mate?"
"My first mate died. My second rejected me. There's no fated mate out there for me—and I'm glad. Because I only want you."
Emma has known nothing but heartbreak. Her first mate died before they ever met. Her second rejected her without hesitation. And every time she's tried to love again, it's ended the same way—left behind, forgotten, alone.
After years of being used, broken, and finally abused by her ex-boyfriend Jay, Emma no longer believes she deserves a happy ending.
Then she meets Alex.
From the moment they cross paths, something shifts. But Emma is guarded, and Alex—he has his own pain. He's lost a mate. He's been rejected. Love isn't new to him, but heartbreak is. Still, from the first moment, he's certain of one thing: he wants Emma.
Can two souls scarred by loss and betrayal find healing in each other?
Or will the ghosts of their pasts destroy the one thing they never thought they'd have—a future together?

Book 2 in the Blue Lake series.
Book 1 ~ My Omega Slave

This book carries on from my 'My Omega slave' if you haven't read ‘My Omega slave’ yet I recommend you do before reading ‘An Omegas Hope’

After Emma's first mate died before she even got the chance to meet him she was blessed with a second chance mate only for him to reject her. Relationships with other werewolves have always led to them finding their mates and Emma being left heartbroken and alone.

The moment she met Alex she felt an instant connection to him but after being mentally and physically abused by her last boyfriend Jay she loses all hope of ever being happy again.

Will letting go of the pain and moving forward be as easy as Emma hopes or will the past always have a heavy hold on her heart?
Alex has had his own fair share of heartache and his past is never far from his heart but his love for Emma keeps pushing him forward. He's wanted her from the moment he met her but she needs to heal from her painful past.

Can Alex help Emma overcome her hurt and move forward with her or will both of their pasts come back to haunt them and destroy everything they have worked so hard for

"There she is, get her!!! don't let her leave" soldiers could be seen chasing a woman who was wounded badly and petrified. This woman seem to be protecting something but what?
"At last we caught her" the men yelled encircling her and beating the woman to death as she bid a being who hide beside a tree close to the road.
An Alpha's Kiss tells the story of how a dieing alpha's life falls into the hands of a human Julie, in an attempt to flee from his enemies.
A sudden kiss brings their souls together and the lost alpha Lucian is forced to protect the naive Julie who wouldn't stop at nothing but to know who Lucian truly is.
It was difficult for both to hide their feelings as they got used to one another shortly.
Their love story gets even more complicated as Julie learnt the truth about Lucian.
Would she ever love a half werewolf and vampire? How would she tackle the fact that both her soul and this paranormal had been connected?

Like what you see? She blushed, knowing her thoughts were her own.
*Why yes, I do.*His smooth answer echoed in her alcohol clouded thoughts.

She has only locked eyes with that hot stranger in the club for a few seconds, and next thing she knows is that she will be claimed by him in five days! Naughty little vixen Myra meets dominate Alpha King Sloan, and the game of temptation is ready to play.
. . .
(This story contains adult themes, strong language and descriptive sexual content that isn't suitable for individuals under the age of eighteen [18])
. . .
All Rights Reserved (c) Nauti.Bear (July 2020)

"Tell me, my sweet Mila, do you want me to stop?"
"No!" I gasp.
"Good, because no matter what, no matter who walks in, I won't," He promised.


Killian Knight was many things, dangerous, a certified killer, devastatingly handsome, my father's business partner and married. He was not just off limits, he was forbidden, he was a sin and I was tempted enough to risk the hell fire. He was everything that could ruin me and my body, my mind and my soul; everything was ready for it.
Mila Anderson's life takes an unexpected turn when she succumbs to the magnetic allure of her father's enigmatic and dangerous mafia associate.
What she doesn't know is that Killian Knight has the power to unravel everything she's carefully built. One secret revealed could bring it all crashing down.
For Killian, one night with Mila changes everything. She's everything he desires, yet she comes with her own web of secrets—and he's determined to uncover every single one.

Diya is a great, bold, and adventurous journalist. She is known for bringing out the darkest secrets of the high profile people. But, none knows about the darkest secret of her life.
Shourya is a sincere, emotionless, brave, and honest cop. He is a terror in the hearts of the criminals. His duty is everything to him, and love, relationships, and family are trash to him.
Unexpectedly, Diya and Shourya were trapped in a marriage by the Central Home Minister, an enemy to both of them. Shourya doesn't know about the darkest secret of Diya's life. After a long time, Diya's trials to win Shourya's love became successful. But before they get closer, her darkest secret comes out, ruining Shourya and his family's reputation. And her secret is also connected with his past, which none of them knows it.
What is Diya's past, and how is it related to Shourya? Is he going to forgive her for hiding such a big secret from him? Does he accept her after knowing her secret? Inspite of politics and many conspiracies, is it possible for Diya and Shourya to chase the happiness and love they craved?

An unforeseen crash of an airplane initially caused by a wolflike assassin led to the deaths of many innocent lives including the target whose daughter miraculously survived the accident and was rescued by a trained warrior from an ancient cult of skilled fighters who have kept themselves hidden for many centuries away from the civilization.
As an orphan, she wasn't aware of her past until a fateful encounter with ferocious beasts of the Sao clan whom she is trained as an acolyte to hate brought to light the guilt of the cult.

Will she overcome her desire for vengeance against those responsible for the death of her parents after falling in love with the clan's heir or will she team up with the once-hated clan to face a new threat that seeks to destroy the world?