107 Book(s) Related to chat noir

When my younger brother got into a top university, the whole family celebrated for him.
I, suffering from a terminal illness, clutched my chest and desperately cried for help, only to be met with a disgusted slap from my mother and the words, "You just can't stand to see your brother doing well!"
She thought I was a spoilsport, so she roughly dragged me back to the room and locked the door from the outside.
She didn't know that those were the last words I ever heard in my life.
The next morning, she opened the door with breakfast in hand, only to find my corpse.

I married a rapist.
After the wedding, I played the perfect wife. I always took off my makeup after he fell asleep, and reapplied it before he woke up.
My husband loved showing off on his livestream, bragging that women should know their place.
One viewer sent a warning in the chat:
[Run, man. Only vengeful spirits do their makeup in the middle of the night—when their resentment is strongest, the makeup lasts longer!]
I covered my face and grinned wickedly.
Oops, forgot concealer. My corpse marks are showing.

"I need an accident—one that looks fatal," I said calmly into the encrypted phone. "It's the only way to escape him."
Rumors swirl that this man—the underworld boss who controls half of Europe’s shadow economy—loves me beyond reason.
They say he defied his entire family for me. That this ruthless killer laid down his weapons just to cook me a meal.
For years, he made the world believe I was his one weakness—and even I almost believed it.
But instinct in a life-or-death moment doesn’t lie.
When bullets shattered the car window, he yanked the steering wheel on reflex—shielding my adopted sister in the passenger seat while leaving me, his wife, fully exposed to the hail of gunfire.
As I lay bleeding, desperately trying to protect our unborn child… he was busy cradling her in his arms.
While I endured everything for our future, he signed over the estate—the one he promised would be our retire place—to that lying sister.
That’s when I knew: some loves are just performances for the living.
So I gave him exactly what he wanted.
I left behind a positive pregnancy test—six weeks along—and drove straight into the deep ocean, staging the most brutal finale right before his eyes.

My husband, Marco, in his bid for the position of Don, was forced to marry the young widow of the previous Don, Claudia.
Every night, after returning from Claudia’s place, he would hold me and swear, "You’re the only woman I love, Elena. Claudia has the connections I need. Once I have real power and secure my position, I’ll make you my wife in name and in public."
But as I waited for him to rise to power, what started as a political act turned into nights where he simply never came home.
Then, on Christmas, I was dragged to their engagement party—where I was beaten in front of everyone.
Our six-year-old daughter, Sophia, knelt on the floor, crying and begging him, "Godfather, please, let my mommy go..."
But Marco stayed silent.
"It’s okay," I whispered, picking up my wounded daughter. "Mommy’s going to take you somewhere that truly belongs to us."
What Marco never knew was this: I never cared about being the Donna of this small city.
I am the only heir of the Rossi family—the most powerful Mafia family in all of Sicily.

In my previous life, when the extreme cold apocalypse arrived, I was drained of all value and heartlessly kicked into an ice pit by my ex-girlfriend.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the time before the apocalypse erupted!

On my phone screen, my girlfriend was still arrogantly issuing ultimatums: "If you don't deliver that eight-thousand-dollar Chanel bag to me today, don't even think about touching me ever again!"

I sneered coldly, decisively blocking this gold-digger who was prepared to devour me alive on all platforms. Then I immediately unlocked the seven-million-dollar trust fund my grandfather had left me and went on a shopping spree for the city's top-tier extreme survival supplies!

A few hours later, an unprecedented extreme polar vortex swept across North America.

When my ex-girlfriend and street thugs frantically pounded on my half-meter-thick reinforced steel blast door, what greeted them wasn't just the aroma of fireplace-grilled steak, but also me and my hardcore parents holding heavy firearms.

To avenge his beloved, my husband locked me—pregnant—in a dog cage and sank it into the icy lake outside our house.
"Wendy spent ten minutes in the water. You'll stay in there for two days."
I screamed and pleaded, "I'm not lying! I really am pregnant! Please!"
But he towered over me, his eyes full of disgust. "You'll say anything to avoid punishment—even a lie like this?"
As the iron cage sank, the freezing water swallowed me—and took the unborn child with it.
Two days later, he had the cage hauled up, waiting for me to beg Wendy for forgiveness.
But all that was left inside was a curled, lifeless body, my dress soaked in vivid red.
I hovered above, watching coldly as he clung to my corpse, howling like a madman.
Eric, why are you crying?
Isn't this what you wanted?

In my previous life, an extreme cold apocalypse descended.

I risked my life nine times over to evolve into a high-tier Ice Plains Wolf, and just to find a piece of meat to keep my fiancée alive, I frantically tore apart wild beasts in the snow. Yet I was betrayed by her and her lover—they cut out my heart with an ice blade!

When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn half a month before the apocalypse!

Time was running out. To awaken the highest tier of beast-human form, I needed an enormous amount of meat to provide energy.

Sports cars? Ocean-view villas? Billions in assets? I wanted none of it!

I immediately dumped my manipulative fiancée, liquidated all my assets into cash, bought a fully enclosed fortified meat processing plant, and frantically stockpiled hundreds of thousands of tons of high-calorie raw meat!

The extreme cold arrived as expected, turning the entire city into a frozen hellscape.

The scumbag pair who betrayed me in my previous life now knelt outside my impregnable airlock door, crying pitifully and begging me for scraps.

I stepped out of my fortress and looked down at them with claws sharp enough to tear through steel:

"Want meat? Go to hell and eat dirt!"

Everyone knows my fiancé, Alex, is the kind of madman who would call off a billion-dollar merger just for me.
For years, he convinced the world I was his one and only, risking the wrath of the board just to keep me by his side.
But that kind of devotion is mostly for show.
In reality, he already had a legal wife—and a baby on the way, carrying his blood.
When I learned the truth, I went straight to my best friend.
"Maya, help me stage a car accident. One where the body can't be identified," I said calmly. "It's the only way I can truly escape Alex."
The night I disappeared, he spent hours kneeling by the burned-out wreck.
He destroyed a high-profile marriage alliance, drove his pregnant wife to madness, and became a complete wreck himself.
But when he finally found me—
He realized I didn't love him anymore.

I’m in the final stages of stomach cancer. My son just passed away yesterday.
At his funeral, my ex-husband barged in, pointed at our son’s headstone, and accused me of doing anything for attention—even putting on a show like this.
He told me to get lost, to stay far away from the woman he really loves.
So I did exactly as he wanted.
I took my son’s ashes and disappeared into the endless sea.
But now, when I’m truly at death’s door, that same man who once hated me with everything he had is tearing the hospital apart, desperate to save me.
Don’t bother, Lucian.
If there’s a next life, let’s never meet again.

At the celebration party, everyone was egging them on.
To kiss ass with the so-called "investor's daughter," James, started playing some flirty card game with Vivian right in front of me, feeding her chips and making out.
I stood in the corner holding his jacket like some pathetic coat-check girl.
When I confronted him, James looked pissed. "Sophie, it's just an act! Vivian's got the company by the balls—don't be so damn difficult!"
I laughed.
He had no idea that the "Vivian" he was desperately sucking up to was nothing but a fraud riding someone else's coattails.
And the real person holding his fate, the one who'd greenlit his precious S-tier project? That was me—the wife he called "completely useless."
The day after our divorce, I pulled the plug on all of James's funding.
He went ballistic trying to meet with the mysterious investor. When the doors opened, I was sitting at the head of the table. Right in front of him, I fed that S-tier project proposal into the shredder:
"James, this deal? I'm out."

When I was rushed to the ER with food poisoning, I heard the doctor shout, "We need to pump her stomach, now!"
But my mother, Catherine, calmly stopped the doctor's hand.
"No hurry," she said coldly. "Give her a sedative first."
My brother Austin panicked. "Mom! If you don't detox her, she could die!"
But my mother's voice was ruthless, low and sharp:
"If she dies, she dies. As long as her uterus is still warm, that's all that matters."
"Did you forget our plan? Sarah's transplant surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. If Elena wakes up now, what if she runs away?"
"Our priority is keeping her uterus safe for Sarah—not saving her life."
In that moment, the burn in my stomach was nothing compared to the chill in my heart.
I forced my eyes open and saw my brother—the one who'd always protected me—hesitate for a moment, then slowly let go of my hand.
"...Okay. You're right, Mom. Saving Sarah comes first."
The moment I closed my eyes, I made a decision: If I survived, this life would never belong to this family again.

On the seventh wedding anniversary, I woke up in the lounge and found a big word "BITCH" sprayed with red paint on my chest.
The culprit, holding a spray-paint can, had a naive-looking smile on her face and said, "I'm doing you a favor. Your white outfit's way too boring."
I was just about to take action when my husband rushed in to protect her, frowning and scolding me: "She's just a little girl; she doesn't know any better. Do you have to be so petty?"
At this moment, looking at the man in front of me who had risen because of my family's influence, I suddenly laughed.
He probably forgot who had given him this overwhelming wealth.
I unscrewed the red-tipped thick paint pen and walked step by step towards the trembling girl.
"Your face is boring, too. Let me do you a favor."
As for my husband?
I'll make him know that without me, he's worse than a dog.

I was driving my dad's luxury car to pick up a friend when his secretary stopped me on the spot.
She mistook me for the lover who had sex with my dad in his office.
So she used car theft as an excuse to drag me into the basement, beat me up, and took nude photos of me.
When my dad found out, he asked me to apologize to her.
That's when I realized that in his eyes, his reputation mattered more than his own daughter.
If that's the case, he doesn't need to be the figurehead CEO anymore.

The late night after my boyfriend left for his business trip, I received a strange call.
"Fresh delivery, hurry down to get it. If you wait too long, your meat will be picked clean."
I stubbed my toe and winced, telling him to just leave it outside my apartment door.
He hesitated but agreed.
Less than ten minutes later, my phone rang again. His voice was impatient, urging me to come down immediately.
I was about to respond when a cold sweat broke out on my back.
Outside the door was a busy main road—where were the raccoons?
And why was he waiting for me downstairs for ten minutes?
What sent chills down my spine was...
I suddenly remembered that I hadn't ordered any fresh groceries this week.
So who was the man standing downstairs, using excuses to trick me into coming down?

On my twenty-fourth birthday, my grandfather dropped the bombshell: I was an orphan.
After learning about my biological family, I decided to do something nice. I bought a limited-edition sports car as a gift for the father I had never met.
But at the dealership, I was publicly humiliated by my brother's mistress.
To clear up the misunderstanding, I called my brother.
When he arrived, it was only to back her up.
"This birthmark is ugly; let me help you get rid of it."
My own brother used a cigar to burn off the birthmark behind my ear and had my suffering broadcast on the mall's LED screen.
"Listen, if anyone dares to treat this woman’s injuries, I’ll have their license revoked in this city for good!"
But he didn’t know that the grandfather who raised me was someone no one in this city could even dream of looking up to.
When my grandfather arrived with a top-notch medical team and armed mercenaries, sealing off the entire building, my arrogant brother finally realized his mistake.

On the first day of the zombie outbreak, my two roommates and I made a crazy decision: before the banking system crashed, we'd take out dozens of online loans and high-limit credit cards!
"Since it's the end of the world, who the hell cares about credit scores? Borrow money! Buy out the supermarket! We don't have to pay it back anyway!"
We smashed through walls, welded the security door shut, and used millions of dollars worth of supplies to build a makeshift shelter . We thought we could survive this catastrophe.
Until that day, in a moment of madness, I rescued a pregnant stranger right under the zombies' noses.
I forgot that in the apocalypse, the smell of amniotic fluid and blood is the ultimate death warrant that attracts monsters from the entire city…

As the zombie with half its face rotten lunged at my throat, an utterly absurd thought popped into my head. Instinctively, I raised the supermarket barcode scanner in my hand and aimed it at its face.

"Beep—Target: Level 1 Mutant Infected Person. Estimated Recovery Value: Equivalent to half a bottle of mineral water."

Who would have thought that in this cannibalistic apocalypse, these bloodthirsty monsters who feel no pain and only know how to kill could actually be forcibly converted into cash by the system?!

From that day on, I completely trampled the laws of this broken world under my feet.

While others were killing each other in the ruins for half a piece of moldy bread, I was comfortably sitting in my "Red Lion" supermarket, doing big business with a zombie whose head I had smashed in half.

Two bags of flour, I traded for a box of antibiotics; three boxes of sausages, and it led a zombie squad to the police station to empty my armory. As long as I can afford it, these tireless monsters are my most loyal laborers.

A vicious thug drove a bulldozer and smashed through my wall, threatening to chop up the men and take the women away. I didn't even draw my gun; I just yelled at the door, "Kill these scumbags, and all twenty kilograms of bacon are yours!" The next second, an army of zombies burst through the window and tore the thugs to pieces in an instant.

The arrogant leader of the survivor base, driving five hundred refugees to act as human shields, attempted to use moral blackmail to force me to hand over supplies? I sneered and sounded the air raid siren, awakening the horde of zombies throughout the city. I sat in front of the monitor, sipping hot tea, watching her, who was once so invincible, be completely swallowed by the monsters, as if watching a play.

Trying to take over my territory? First, ask my paid zombie bodyguards outside if they'll allow it!

Through a crazy "equivalent exchange" strategy, I transformed a run-down supermarket into an impregnable steel fortress that even regular troops couldn't break into.

Until that day, the military defenses completely collapsed. Seven four-meter-tall, city-destroying "tyrants" led a super horde of 150,000 zombies to the city's gates! With only sixty seconds left on the countdown to the tactical nuclear missile, the arrogant military commander, his eyes red with tears, begged me to intervene and save the city.

I was trapped underground by seven tyrants, chewing on the last piece of chocolate my zombie underling had left me before he died, and pressed the system's "Ultimate Equivalence".

The system asked me if I was willing to trade my life for absolute control over 150,000 mutants in the entire city.

I smiled and said, "Deal."

When the white light of the nuclear explosion dissipated, and the entire city was reduced to ruins, everyone assumed I was gone without a trace. But I, leaning against the intact rooftop of the fortress, looked down at the tyrant who humbly submitted to me, my eyes gleaming with a dark golden light.

In this lawless hell, my rules are the only ironclad law!

Just because my face was severely burned in the fire, a woman pointed her finger at me, screaming and falsely accusing me of molesting her son to the whole society.
She incited online violence, ruining my livelihood; she distorted the truth, bringing in corrupt police officers who tortured me to the point of near death.
She thought she could extort some unexpected money.
But she had no idea that my severe burns were because I saved the governor in the fire!

At the family dinner, a Wall Street rising star flaunted his power in front of me, boasting that he was the chief agent of the "Godfather of the Underworld."
My ex-wife's family fawned over me like dogs, pointing their fingers at me and taunting, "You spineless, gigolo trash, you're not even worthy to carry Mr. Victor's shoes!"
Victor, even more smug, turned on speakerphone, trying to use my privileges to curry favor with my wife.
I stood silently in the corner, coldly pressing a blood-red command: [Permanently Delete Account].
The next second, the system's cold pronouncement came through his phone: "Warning, you have overstepped your authority and have been banned across the entire network!"
The room fell silent instantly.
They had no idea that I was the true Godfather, the one who controlled a multi-billion dollar empire and ruled the Western underworld!

Seven years ago, my wife and son committed perjury in court, conspiring to send me to a high-security prison, all so they could elope with that fraudster.
Seven years later, I was released.
My ex-wife, with her son, arrogantly tossed a business card onto my faded work clothes:
"Go kowtow to my new husband and apologize, and I'll give you a waiter's job."
Little did she know that just hours later, at a top-tier financial summit across America, her seemingly untouchable new husband was kneeling at my feet like a dog.
And her proud multi-billion dollar empire was nothing more than garbage I could crush with a flick of my finger.

A zombie outbreak occurred, and my brother and I were both reborn ten minutes before the disaster struck.
This time, he seized the initiative, stealing the two high-level god-tier abilities, [Flame] and [Hardening], and casually pushed me out of the security door, locking me in the zombie-infested corridor.
Through the security door, he arrogantly declared, "In my past life, you always stood in front of me; in this life, I'll take the mark of survival."
In his eyes, the [Tracking] and [Preset] abilities the system assigned me were nothing but useless pieces of paper.
He thought I would die a horde of zombies.
But he didn't know that in the hands of a top hunter, seemingly useless skills could weave a hellish web that made life unbearable and death unthinkable.

Five years ago, on our wedding day, my fiancée Vivian was in the bridal suite fucking my best man.
Five years later, I returned to New York with my wife—the most powerful Mafia matriarch in Naples. At Atelier Milano, Brandon, the same "best man" who betrayed me, fawned over my custom-tailored suit, groveling to the staff about how desperately he wanted to meet the legendary Mr. Salvatore.
He had no idea...
The man he'd once written off as a pathetic loser was the very person he was now begging to impress.

To help his life-saving benefactor, he personally pressed a pregnant me on the operating table to draw bone marrow.
I cried and begged him, "James, I'm pregnant. It's your child. Don't do this to me..."
But he had a look of disgust in his eyes. "Elizabeth, you'd lie about something like that just to get out of helping Mandy?"
Until there was a river of blood in the operating room and that unformed child turned into a pool of bloody water, he finally panicked.
Later, when he knew that the person who saved him in the fire ten years ago was actually me, he held my ashes and knelt outside the operating room for a full three days.

On my birthday, I was dragged up to the attic and assaulted by several men.
I called my parents, brother, and boyfriend for help, but they all thought I was seeking attention and ruining my sister Sophie's celebration.
"Mia, stop it. We're busy preparing for Sophie's party. If you want attention, find another way."
This was the hundredth time they'd let me down.
But there won't be a hundred and first.
Because I'm already dead.

On our sixth anniversary, instead of a gift, my husband Liam video-called me while holding his first love, Sophia.
On screen, that woman proudly waved a positive pregnancy test while Liam sneered at me: "Sophia got pregnant on the first try. Proves your body's the problem, not mine!"
Clutching my own newly confirmed pregnancy report, my heart turned to ice. I decided to file for divorce.
But at the celebratory party Liam threw for Sophia, I was pushed to the ground—blood staining my dress.
When I begged for help, Liam coldly looked away: "Stop faking. It's just period cramps. Don't ruin the party."

My stepsister and I tumbled down the stairs together. As someone with a blood clotting disorder, my spleen ruptured—I was bleeding internally, desperate for surgery to stop it.
But my mother—the renowned chief of surgery—pulled every specialist from the ER. To consult on my stepsister's condition.
All she had was a sprained ankle. Not even a scratch. Yet mom insisted on running every test in the book. And me? Left alone on that cold floor, bleeding out, half my body already soaked in blood.
I clutched at her pants, begging her to save me. But she kicked my hand away and looked at me with pure disgust.
"Lily, are you really so desperate for a man's attention that you'd pull a cheap stunt like this? Your sister's foot is swollen—and you have the nerve to fake your death here?"
In the end, I died alone in a corner of that ignored ER.
But when they wheeled my cold body out of the morgue—and they finally learned about my clotting disorder—
That mother who claimed to hate me completely lost her mind.

My brother was jealous after I won a $50 million lottery jackpot, so he tricked me into believing an extreme ice-age apocalypse was coming.
Because I trusted him, I spent every last dollar my parents and I had—fortifying the house and stockpiling supplies.
Two weeks later, he told me that there was no coming apocalypse. It had all been a lie.
Just when I was drowning in despair, hail started falling in the middle of summer.
The deep freeze apocalypse had really begun.

After accidentally traveling to the post-apocalyptic wasteland, I treated the human leader as a brother, continuously supplying him with modern resources.

Who knew he would conspire with the beastman chieftain to kill me, just to prevent me from rescuing others.

But what he didn't know was that I could travel back to the modern world.

While those two leaders of the wasteland thought themselves invincible...

I healed my wounds, and returned to the wasteland with military hardware and food, storming back to their base!

You want my life?

Then pay for it with your own!

At the dinner party, Alexander had his arm around my waist, chatting and laughing with clients in German.
I was about to tell him the happy news that I was pregnant.
He was tender and affectionate in front of me, kissing my cheek from time to time.
But they didn't know my German was fluent enough to understand every dirty detail.
Like right now, I heard him bragging to the client about how wild things got last night with his stepsister Lillian.

I'm a blind girl, and I've always been close with the old lady living next door.
One day, I caught the smell of blood coming from her apartment.
Worried something had happened to her, I pushed her door open—and instantly realized my mistake.
I had walked right into a murder scene.
The killer was still there.
I had to take a chance.
Betting that my pale, sightless eyes could fool those blood-crazed ones.
I stepped into the blood-soaked room, smiled toward where the body lay, and called out,
"Ma'am, the store has oranges on sale—I brought some over for you..."

When the apocalyptic red rain fell, my brother and I both awakened spatial abilities.

He awakened a space as vast as a mansion and was hailed by the entire family as their savior.

While I only awakened a "suitcase" and was ruthlessly drained of all my assets by my parents to support my brother, then kicked out of the house.

They mocked me cruelly: "We don't keep deadweights. Go wait for death in the 70-degree furnace outside!"

What they didn't know was that my brother's space had no preservation function—his stockpile of premium ingredients would soon rot into a pile of maggot-infested meat.

But my suitcase had upgrade attributes!

While they fought each other over a sip of putrid green water in the 200-degree hellscape,

I sat in the "Eden" I had created, watching herds of cattle and sheep, drinking ice-cold fresh milk.

My fiancé accused me of not caring about family.
To appease him, I planned a family vacation.
But the night before we left, he informed me that he'd given my first-class seat to his childhood sweetheart.
And me? He stuck me in coach on a flight flagged for possible terror threats.
Everyone in his family thought I should just go along with it.
That was the moment I woke up.
I tore up the itinerary and booked myself a trip to Hawaii instead.
Then I turned off my phone and let them sweat over the hotel bill.
It wasn't until their reservation got canceled that they finally started to panic.

My fiancée accused me of not caring about family.
To make it up to her, I planned a luxury vacation for all of us.
But the night before we left, she told me she'd given my first-class seat to her childhood best friend.
Instead, she booked me a seat in economy—on a flight with a recent terror threat advisory.
The whole family thought I should just go along with it.
That's when I finally woke up.
I tore up the itinerary and rerouted to Hawaii instead.
I turned off my phone, leaving them to deal with the $20,000 bill.
It wasn't until their hotel reservations got canceled that they started to panic.

"Strip her naked and throw her in a dog cage."
When Vincent Sterling gave the order, Serena clutched her stomach in despair: "I'm carrying your baby!"
Vincent just lit a cigarette, watching coldly as the bodyguard’s boot slammed into her belly. "Get rid of it. I don't want anything filthy."
That night, to avenge his childhood sweetheart, Vincent personally killed his own flesh and blood, trampling his wife—whom he had loved for ten years—into the mud.
Later, the truth came to light.
The so-called "infidelity videos" are AI-generated, and the manipulative woman's pain is self-perpetuated.
Seeing the signed divorce agreement and the blood-stained ring, the arrogant Vincent went completely mad.
He knelt in the pouring rain for three days and nights, begging her to come back.
This time, Serena sat in her wheelchair, gazing down at him with an icy, detached gaze.
"Vincent, I don't hate you, but I hate you for being filthy."

On my first day as an intern at the zoo, the old director assigned us animals to care for.
In my previous life, my classmate Jack chose the easy-to-care-for African elephant, while I was forced to take on the brutal Siberian tiger.
A month later, the apocalypse struck, and the Siberian tiger successfully evolved, leading me to escape the encirclement.
Jack's elephant, however, couldn't outrun the mutated species and was torn to pieces. Driven
by jealousy, the surviving Jack incited a mob to brutally beat me and the giant tiger to death, dismembering and cannibalizing us.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the animals were assigned.
Jack had already taken the Siberian tiger, pushing the elephant to me, and I knew he had also been reborn.
But what he didn't know was that the Siberian tiger he had devoured was also reborn with me.

You are here as our breeder. My husband will sleep with you until you become pregnant, and after you give birth, the baby will be ours," Her heart sinks into her stomach as she watches the woman that bought her moments ago, says to her. Here she was, thinking she was going to be working as their maid, but she was mistaking. She was only brought here to be their breeder.

"I don't want to," As much as she wants to refuse, she knows that she has no choice at this point. These people already bought her, and she's now their property.

"Now, sign the contract," With a deep frown settling on the woman's face, she pushes the paper to her to sign...

Life doesn't always go as planned, as fate always has its way of twisting people's destinies. After the death of Cassie's mom, she grew up living a miserable life with her father, who blamed her for the death of her mother, because she had died while giving birth to her. Cassie never stopped imagining how sweet her life would've been if her mom was alive.

She thought things will get better for her, but then it only became worse, as her father sold her to a stranger, who turned out to be the ruthless alpha Damien that Cassie had bumped into in the past. What becomes the fate of Cassie, after she found herself stuck in between alpha Damien and his twin brother?

He is my master, I am his slave, his son my lover.

Set in a fictional historical world, Grand Duke of Wynthorpe, Lucian Blackwell unexpectedly purchases Sarang, a lunari slave, to serve as companion for his son, Nathaniel. Overtime, Lucian and Nathaniel develop deep, conflicting emotions for him. While Nathaniel seeks to free him, Lucian's growing attachment complicates the relationships between the three.

Caught in a tense emotional triangle, Sarang is torn between his loyalty to Lucian and his blossoming romance with Nathaniel. As boundaries between servitude and freedom blur, Sarang must navigate a world where love, power, and desire clash.

"First time?" She kept silent, continued what she was doing, and suddenly — I tore her undies.
I kissed his lips down to her neck because my mouth traced them. I synchronized the insertion of my finger in her vulva; my tongue started to fight with her tongue and play in her hot saliva.
Her growl sent shivers down my spine, the reason for me to burst. "Please,” she begged. I can't help it. She is determined to give her virginity to a mere stranger.
"Psh.” Then, as I entered her private hole, the heat engulfed me.
"Fvck. You’re so tight."


I know who you are and what you have planned. I’ll marry you so I can clean my tarnish name. Regardless of all these, what acceptance would you bestow upon my little mysteries?

Broke, homeless, and addicted to chocolate, will Sheryl chase her dream or remain tied to her mother's purse strings? Sheryl, on the wrong side of thirty-five, has seen better days. She lost her job, her home, and the ability to say no to her mother: a woman with as much sensitivity as a comedian. Sheryl, a soft touch, is wilting into a sea of whiskey and American Wrestling. She spends her nights rooting for Johnstone, a wrestler as believable as Die Hard. Until Sheryl discovers belly dancing.  Sheryl is a natural at belly dancing and dreams of performing in the sort of costume that would have her mother choking on her “you’re too fat” comments. So when the wrestlers come to town, Sheryl grabs her chance. She wins tickets to the wrestling event and the opportunity to not only meet Johnstone, but belly dance. Sheryl feels hopeful, until her mother finds out. Will Sheryl grab her chance or toss her coin belt, along with her dreams, to the wind? Sheryl’s Last Stand is the first in the Bellydancing and Beyond series. If you like fast-paced books that make you laugh, then you will love Kerrie Noor’s wonderfully funny Bellydancing series. Buy Sheryl’s Last Stand today to watch Sheryl shimmy towards a life worth getting out of bed for. ★★★★★"The voice is Scottish urban girl snark." ★★★★★ “Good read, funny, fast-paced, zany characters." ★★★★★ “A poignant romantic comedy”

Warning : 21+

Eli was raised by her abusive family who treated her like a slave, instead of a child who deserved love.

Provoked by the constant physical and mental torture she received, Eli attacked her father and almost killing him.

Realizing that she had made a fatal mistake, Eli, who was trying to escape from her house which she considered hell, was hit by a car carrying James Huntington, a young doctor who was the last heir to 'The Huntington' business empire.

As a form of responsibility, James paid all of Eli's medical costs until she recovered. However, Eli, who experienced severe trauma and was unable to communicate properly, forced James to take her back to his mansion.

James' kindness and gentleness were the trigger that for the first time made Eli feel truly loved. But that actually became the beginning of Eli's crazy obsession.

I was the second child in my family who had an elder sister, perfect in every aspect. However, I had always craved for a brother.
My excitement was above the ninth cloud when Claire, my elder sister, ran up to me and announced, “Steffy, we have a big brother now.”
However, I ruined everything when the pure love for my brother took a different place in my heart. Now, I wanted Taylor, not as my brother but my lover.


“Were you ever going to tell me the truth?” He asked, staring at my fragile body in the hospital bed.
“Do you care at all?” I replied before turning my face away from him.

I was once known as "The Divine Hand," the youngest Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery in history.

I didn't just perform surgeries, I invented them. However, after a high-profile operation on my own mentor went tragically wrong, leaving him in a vegetative state, my mother made me swear a blood oath.

“Your hands bring both life and ruin. Never touch a scalpel again, or the guilt will consume you forever.”

I traded my surgical scrubs for a floral apron. I married Lucian, a famous business tycoon my mother had selected.

For five years, I spent my days in the kitchen, meticulously preparing meals that were precisely calibrated medicinal formulas that cured his heart murmur and made him the top-performing executive in the city.

However, on our fifth anniversary, Lucian didn't bring flowers or gifts. Instead, he threw the divorce papers on my face with Leslie, the glamorous "Star Surgeon" of the year, by his side, her hands wrapped around his arms like she owned him.

Lucian sneered, "Lesley operates on kings and CEOs. You? You can't even look at a drop of blood without fainting. You’re a liability to my social standing."

“Sign the papers and I'll give you two hundred dollars every month as your monthly allowance. Considering your lifestyle, that's more than you ever need.” He mocked.

I stared at the divorce papers in my hands. This was what he was paying me for being a submissive wife.

"I’ll sign," I said, "and I’ll let you keep the house and the stocks. But only if Lesley can correctly identify the three hidden toxins I’ve neutralized in your body over the last five years using only the meals you mocked me for cooking.”

“If she’s the 'genius' you claim, surely she can diagnose the man she's sleeping with.”

Eighteen years ago, my mother traded her newborn for a gold-plated life, leaving me in a rust-stained trash can like a piece of discarded waste just to marry her rich boyfriend.

Now, she was back, weeping about "maternal regret" and "postpartum shadows”, saying she had regretted her decision every second of her life.

Overjoyed that my mother wanted me back, I packed my belongings and rushed to meet her.

However, the moment I stepped foot at her doorstep, I overheard her conversation with her darling daughter with her new husband.

“Of course, sweetheart! You will always be my one and only darling. I’m only adopting Vanessa back to wed her to Mr. Blackwood to save your Dad's bankrupt company.”

“You are not lying to me, Mom, are you?” Ramona, my step sister, tugged to my mother’s arms. “You won't share my love with sister Vanessa, will you?”

“Never.” My mother replied, her voice contained no warmth when mentioning me. “How can a village’s trash can compare to our princess?”

“If we wouldn't have to please that old hag of Blackwood company, we would never have brought your sister back.”

“An old master of Blackwood company and a village girl with no literacy, I think that's a match made in heaven.” Ramona smirked, followed by the sound of their laughter.

My legs at the doorstep froze, the momentary joy I felt shattered. The cold heart that had melted seeing my mother shed tears, became ice.

I watched the duo of mother and daughter, laughing and making fun of me, completely unaware that the company they were trying to please by offering me, was actually owned by me.

I was the CEO of Blackwood Groups.

George ousted from the drama club is desperate to direct again. The drama club would rather have their nails ripped out-----one by one. Will George get another chance? Lockdown has begun, George's caravan park is empty, his pension shares halved, and Catrina his on/off lover is definitely off. George is at a loss what to do until Catrina's Aunt is whisked off to a nursing home with the visiting rights of a security prison. George sees a chance. He decides to raise money for a covid friendly visiting room with ‘Panto on zoom’; not only will he woe his Catrina but restore his reputation as a director. But when the video turns viral for all the wrong reasons, George has more than a mutiny on his hands. Will he restore his reputation or fall flat on his face? Buy Lockdown today a story that will have you chuckling in your shoes.

On our fifth Anniversary party, Harris got admitted to the City's Hospital.

Cancer. Stage IV.

I struggled to find words to whisper some comforting words to Harris .

Instead, he held my hands, and said,"It's alright, Darcy."

"Don't be afraid of anything that may happen. Even if I am about to die, I will always be with you."

Even when he was dying, he made sure to comfort me, which bled my heart.

I spent my days researching treatments, draining my savings for "miracle" consultations.

Then came the afternoon I went to his office early to surprise him with the appointment letter with Dr. Wilson, a world famous surgeon.

Harris had been trying to contact him for weeks now. But, everytime he declined him bluntly, only this time when I tried to contact him personally, his assistant reached out to me.

Finally, he had a chance to be saved. I cried tears of joy. I wanted to share this good news with Harris as soon as possible.

But, My hands, almost pushed open the door, , a Lively and joyous laughter echoed through my ears.
"Is the paperwork ready?"

I slightly opened it ajar and peered inside.
I froze on the spot.

Clara was sitting on Harris's lap, clutching to his shoulder like she owned him.

"Everything," Harris' voice sounded, confident and excited.

"By the time 'cancer' takes me, Harris Hudson will be dead, life insurance will be processed, and you and I will be halfway across the world with a clean slate."

Clara. Harris' first love. The one he told me was a 'closed chapter' years ago.

Something broke into my heart.
I froze at my place.

The cancer, the treatment, it was all a lie orchestrated by Harris to elope with Clara?

Aelric Vaelthorn was an ordinary boy in the real world, until a deadly accident thrust him into another realm. He wakes as the heir to the Vaelthorn Empire, a prince born into a family of healers, but with the dangerous gift of dark magic. Confused and overwhelmed, Aelric must navigate palace politics, master his powers, and survive the hidden threats of a magical world he barely understands.

Surrounded by powerful princes, Solian, the heir of Light; Lyren, the water prince; Eryndor, the ice prince, Aelric finds himself drawn into a delicate web of friendship, rivalry, and unexpected romance. Each of them holds a piece of his heart, but trust is fragile, and enemies lurk in shadows.

Will Aelric embrace his destiny as a dark magic prince, or will the weight of his powers and newfound responsibilities destroy him before he learns who to trust, or love?

Thirty Shades Of ComedyThree books, three romances with all your favorite characters.Belly Dancing and Beyond series- laugh out loud stories about a group of women who have at one time or another danced with the great Nefertiti. Each book is a stand-alone tale jam-packed with familiar characters you will grow to love, maybe hate but will definitely want to read about again. Book 1- Sheryl's Last Stand"A poignant romantic comedy." ★★★★★“The voice is Scottish urban girl snark." ★★★★★"Good read, funny, fast-paced, zany characters." ★★★★★ Book 2-The Downfall Of A Bellydancer"Funny, witty, and rapid-paced." ★★★★★"Funny, Poignant, and charming!" ★★★★★"Laugh out loud funny." ★★★★★ Book 3-Four Takeaways And A Funeral"A fun and captivating comedy." ★★★★★"Great British rom-com." ★★★★★"An adorable comedy about sibling rivalry and Indian food." ★★★★★

“Be careful with that, Emma," my boss at the high-end courier service warned, handing me the velvet-lined case. "That bottle is worth more than your life. It’s for the penthouse gala at the Sterling Heights. If it breaks, don't bother coming back.”

I clutched the case to my chest like it was a newborn child.

The soles of my shoes were so thin I could feel every jagged pebble on the pavement. My feet ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of the sixteen-hour shifts I’d been pulling for the last three months.

But every time I felt like collapsing, I thought of Liam. He met with an accident five years ago and could not work.

So, I became the bread-earner in our family.

Today was our wedding anniversary. And this last expensive delivery could earn me a decent gift for him.

"The host is on the terrace," a waiter whispered as I reached the penthouse, eyeing my worn-out sneakers with disdain. "Hurry up. He doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

I walked toward the terrace, my heart hammering. I just wanted to drop this off, get my signature, and run to Liam. I pushed through the crowd, dodging silk gowns and tailored tuxedos.

Then, I stopped.

The man standing at the edge of the terrace looked familiar.

He was wearing a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo that cost more than our three years of rent. His hair was slicked back, his posture commanding and regal. He was way too rich to cross paths with me in my entire life.

But, my heart skipped a beat as he turned back to look at his friends.

It was Liam. My Liam. With other woman, offering the world to her.