190 Book(s) Related to kim joo ah

In a tale woven with friendship and heartbreak, Melissa and Lydia, two university freshmen who had been inseparable for over eleven years, find themselves facing unforeseen and tragic circumstances. Eager to explore the realms of romance, their innocent quest for true love takes a dark and twisted turn as they stumble upon secrets that were meant to remain buried. The shocking revelation leads to a horrific event—the untimely death of Lydia—leaving Melissa reeling under the weight of grief and devastation.

The loss of her lifelong friend not only shatters Melissa’s world but also draws her family into a web of sorrow and despair. As she grapples with the pain of betrayal and heartache, the shocking truth about Lydia's killer emerges—a person so entwined in Melissa’s life that she could never have anticipated their role in this tragedy. This revelation plunges her into a perilous situation that nearly claims her own life, forcing Melissa to confront the haunting question: what could love truly be when it comes hand in hand with such profound suffering?

"Don't you want revenge?"
"After everything he did... The affair. The lies. Firing you. Having you evicted. Turning your own mother against you. After all of that, don't you want him to pay?"
"Yes... I hate myself for it. I hate that he made me this person, but yes. I want him to hurt. I want him to feel what I felt."
"Then use me"
I caught my fiancè f**g my best friend thirty minutes before our wedding. An hour later, I was riding his father in the back of his car, still in my wedding dress.
Hudson Armstrong had me trained and broken down into the perfect and compliant woman. He thought I would swallow the humiliation, paste on a smile and walk down the aisle like nothing happened.
He thought wrong.
His father Julius? Dark-haired, cold-blooded and powerful enough to make grown men tremble. He was the kind of man who didn't ask for permission. He just took what he wanted.
When he found me shattered by his asshole of a son, he offered me an escape. A filthy, savage and absolutely depraved way out.
I should have said no. Instead, I let him peel off my white lace, shove me against the leather seats and fk me like I was his while his son stood waiting at the altar, clueless and humiliated.
One revenge f*k. One night to forget. One twisted mistake, except Julius won't let me go. His hands, his mouth and his obsession is consuming me whole and the more Hudson tries to win me back, the deeper I fall into his father's bed.

The Alpha who saved Seraphina from rogues never meant to keep her, until she turned twenty one and the Moon Goddess marked her as his.

Dimitri Volkov ruled his pack with brutal efficiency and kept his ward at arm's length, but one ceremonial night changed everything. Now, Seraphina’s virgin body burns for the only man forbidden to touch her. The dominant Alpha whose presence alone made her drip with shameful need.

Pack law says that a guardian cannot claim his ward. Her first heat says otherwise.

When she begs for his knot, his control shatters at the scent of her arousal. When every unmated male can smell that she’s ready to be bred, Dimitri faces an impossible choice. Let them both go mad from denial, or pin her beneath him and show her why the most forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

She was raised to obey her Alpha. Tonight, she will learn what submission really means.

When Emilia Gray awakens from a three-year coma, she's forced to confront a dark and mysterious world she never knew existed. Bound to the powerful Valois family by a centuries-old blood oath, Emilia must navigate a treacherous landscape of supernatural politics and forbidden love.
As she's drawn deeper into the world of the Valois, Emilia finds herself torn between her growing feelings for the enigmatic Luca Valois and her desire for independence and self-discovery.
Will Emilia be able to claim her own power and forge her own destiny, or will the blood oath forever define her fate?"

I gave up five years of my marriage for nothing.

My son is dead. He died on his fifth birthday, waiting for his father to come home. But instead of his dad, a car accident took him. And his father? He was a thousand miles away, with another woman.

For five years, I put up with my husband's coldness and his family's constant humiliation. I thought having a child would melt his icy heart. I was wrong—so terribly, laughably wrong.

He couldn't even focus at our son's funeral—his eyes were only for his old flame, his "true love." It wasn't until I was on my deathbed that he finally shed those fake tears of regret. But it was too late. My child was gone. My love had died. And soon, I would be gone too.

This marriage, this whole life—it's all been one big joke. I just want to find my son as soon as I can. To tell him that his mother never gave up on him. To promise him that in another world, we'll never be apart again.

Mara Vale was the intern everyone forgot.

She carried coffee into rooms where decisions were made, fixed printers no one thanked her for, and watched her ideas appear under another woman's name. At Vane & Co., she was told to be grateful for the badge that barely opened any doors.

Then, one stormy night in the sealed archive, Mara found a file the board had hidden for twenty years.

It said the company was still searching for its missing heiress.

It said someone had buried the real girl inside the lowest rung of the business.

And beside the photograph of a vanished child with Mara's eyes, someone had written one instruction in red ink:

Do not let her rise.

Caroline Mercer once believed kindness could be proven by sacrifice. She took in two orphaned children, gave them schools, doctors, tutors, rooms beside her daughter's nursery, and a path into the Mercer name.

Years later, those children returned as witnesses against her. Sloane Vale smiled for the cameras while calling Caroline a monster. Nolan Vale handed federal investigators a beautiful stack of forged evidence. Caroline's husband was broken, her company was seized, and her only daughter, Evelyn, died after being traded into a marriage meant to protect everyone else's reputation.

Then Caroline opened her eyes on the morning the Vale children first arrived at her door.

This time, she would feed them. She would house them. She would educate them. She would keep every receipt, every doctor's report, every legal notice.

But she would never again give strangers the keys to her child's future.

He calls me Sage, a blank canvas he reshapes to fit his whims. My Alpha, Kieran—the King of the North—blindfolds me each night, his whispers soft against my ear as he breathes my name.

Yet his intense stare cuts right through me, fixated on the distant moonlight he craves but can never touch. The irony stings—he looks at another through my eyes, just as I scour him for echoes of my fiancé, lost to me ten years ago. We serve as flawless stand-ins for each other, offering warmth in this prison of hate and longing, even as we tear at one another's wounds.

When the harsh truth strips away our last veil of illusion, how will this deceitful game we've played finally unravel? "You are not my Alpha," I whisper, "you are just my moon." But when that moonlight dims, can our shattered spirits still navigate the infinite shadows to find home?

They told me my daughter drowned. Too much to drink, a slick deck, a terrible accident.

Then they put a number on her, slid the check across the table, and asked me to sign away the right to ever ask how she died.

I signed.

They didn't ask what I'd do after.

I changed my name. I spent three years earning a desk in their building, close enough to hear the man who buried her joke about the father who "made some noise, took the money, and went away."

He doesn't know my face. None of them do.

They thought the money bought my silence.

They have no idea what it bought.

The folder slid across the table toward Hannah's husband. Sign here. Family helps family.

What the Whitfields never once thought to wonder was that the quiet daughter-in-law they'd spent four years bleeding had almost three million dollars they couldn't see.

She'd hidden it for one reason: to keep the only good man in that family from being turned into their wallet.

Now they wanted his signature. His house. His name on their debt.

They had spent a lifetime underestimating the quiet one.

They were about to learn what that costs.

They paid me a fortune to authenticate a masterpiece. It took eight seconds to know it was a forgery — and eight more to understand I was the forgery they'd hired.

The brushwork was my great-grandmother's. The woman they let die in a county ward, calling herself a liar for daring to say the paintings were hers.

The Ashford name sits on three centuries of art, scholarship, and law. None of it is theirs. He stole her words. His wife stole her paintings. They built a dynasty on a woman they erased — and never learned her blood runs in me too.

I'm the lawyer they brought in to seal one more theft. I said no.

By the time they remember her name, they won't have one left to sign.

They put the calm ones on graveyard. I'm calmer than calm - I can't read a face to save my life, but give me a voice and I'll tell you what you ate for dinner and what you're lying about.

3:07 a.m. A woman calls. A struggle. The line dies.

By sunrise there's no body, no report, and the call I logged has wiped itself clean - like it never rang. The whole city is asleep on it.

But I've never trusted the system. I keep my own copy of every call.

He erased her. I kept the tape. Now he just has to find out the night guy nobody looks at has been listening the whole time.

I’m the only person on Earth with a clinically proven antibody capable of neutralizing this rare deadly virus.
I caught the virus when I was six. Its mortality rate was staggeringly high, and everyone thought I’d never pull through. Against all odds, I recovered entirely on my own. By some strange twist of biology, my body made the world’s sole antibody that could fight this virus off.
Once I turned eighteen, I signed up to donate my serum as a volunteer.
For twenty years straight, rain or shine, I showed up to donate free of charge—107 separate donations in total. Each time, I pulled a gravely ill patient back from death’s brink.
I’m no saint living to save the whole world. Every last donation was done for my mother.
Back when I was six, my father’s infidelity drove my mother to take her own life. What happened was cruel beyond measure, completely unforgivable.
A fortune-teller once told me my mom’s lingering resentment ran far too deep. To free her trapped, wandering soul for good, a blood relative of hers had to finish exactly 108 acts of good deeds.
Twenty years in, only one deed remained. Just one more, and my mother’s spirit could finally rest in peace.
But when the hospital sent out an urgent emergency SOS this time around, I did something I’d never done in two decades.
I turned their request down flat.

They built a hundred-year name on a scholarship they stole from a dead girl.

This morning that name landed on my desk. Brooke Hale, applicant. One signature away from the federal clerkship her family has won, somehow, in every generation since 1962.

I'm the one who signs.

I wrote three words instead. Recommend denial. Then I sat with my hands flat on the file so they'd stop shaking.

The Hales think it's a cold case. A girl named Iris, ruled ineligible sixty years ago, gone quiet, gone poor, gone.

They don't know Iris was my great-grandmother.

They don't know I kept the letter.

My locker door swings open and the hate mail tumbles out like confetti from hell. Murderer's daughter. Your dad killed kids. Die like them.
Three weeks since the news broke, and they just keep coming.
I'm on my hands and knees, frantically shoving the notes into my backpack while the hallway erupts in laughter. Sarah steps over me like I'm roadkill.
The first time I drowned, I thought it was an accident. The second time, I thought I was losing my mind. But by the third time—watching Blake's lifeless body sink next to mine in that chlorine-burning water—I finally got it. Time isn't moving forward. It's stuck, like a broken record, spinning back to the day Blake could still dive like an Olympic champion, before the accident stole everything from him.
This time, I won't let him jump in after me.
I have to save Blake from me. But I'm drowning in more than just pool water, and I don't know how to surface. I don't know how to stop this endless loop of death and guilt and love that's killing us both, over and over again.
How do you break a curse when you're the one who cast it?

My husband Michael's father and my own father shared the same name—Robert. His was Robert Carter; mine, Robert Smith. I once thought it a sweet coincidence, until that 3 AM phone call turned this quirk of fate into a living nightmare.
The nursing home called to say Robert Carter had died, but when Michael returned from his business trip, he assumed it was my father who had passed. "Old Robert's finally gone," he smirked. "Should've moved him to the cheaper nursing home ages ago." Can you believe it? His own father—the man who'd left him an inheritance—and there he was, helping his medical intern mistress cover up malpractice, dismissing the death as "just some useless old man."
He has no idea he's protecting his father's killer. No clue I've seen through his cold-bloodedness all along.
I wonder, when the truth finally hits him, how will this absurd tragedy end?

I was "Ghost," the undefeated legend of the underground racing circuit. To uncover the truth behind the tragic fall that left my sister, Sylvia, in a coma, I disguised myself as a timid, pathetic scholarship student and infiltrated Spencer Academy—an elite world ruthlessly ruled by old-money families and the hockey dynasty.

I thought my petty revenge was flawless when I slashed a bully's tire with a razor blade hidden in my sleeve. But I was caught red-handed by the academy's most feared predator: Rowan King, the "Tyrant of the Ice."

He was Sylvia's rumored boyfriend. More importantly, he was the last person to see her that night.

With a single glance, he shattered my "good girl" facade. He knew my true identity as the street racer "Ghost," and he knew exactly why I had sneaked into his school.

I should have treated him as my prime suspect. But between his fiercely dominant advances and his reckless, deadly protection, he was making my heart race entirely out of control...

When I scrolled across that photo of Tyler with his arms wrapped around Rachel at 2 AM, I nearly shattered my phone against the wall. That bastard—maintaining our "just scratching an itch" arrangement while wooing her with soulmate bullshit?

With anger burning through my veins and my skin flushing hot, I stormed off to the jazz bar determined to expose him.

But who could have guessed that in the middle of this dramatic showdown, I'd discover the truth about Seth—the one secretly marking up my sheet music, the one who decked Tyler for me?

Maybe this gut-wrenching betrayal was actually the universe's twisted way of pointing me toward something real.

My husband Ronald's best friend Clyde died three months ago, and with his last breath, he made Ronald promise to take care of his pregnant widow, Jennifer. From that moment, Jennifer invaded our lives, and I was only four months pregnant at the time.

Then Jennifer got caught in a gang shootout. She needed an emergency blood transfusion, and she had this rare blood type—Rhnull. Turns out, I'm Rhnull too.

To save Jennifer and her baby, Ronald forced me to abort mine.

I woke up, and my world collapsed.

Lying next to me was Sebastian—the golden boy, the heir to the Rhodes empire, and the nemesis who has tormented me for twenty years.

I fled. I swore to take that night to my grave. If I kept my mouth shut, no one would know.

But Fate has a twisted sense of humor. Five weeks later, two red lines on a pregnancy test slapped me in the face. I’m pregnant. And the father isn’t just my childhood nightmare. He’s the man who just bought my company. My new boss.

I tried to hide. He hunted me down. He scares off my dates. He tramples my pride. He invades my life like a tyrant. He mocks me in public, yet destroys anyone who touches me in private.

"Nancy, did you really think you could escape?" He pins me against the wall, his eyes dark, that familiar scent of cedar suffocating me. "Admit it. You hate me, but you need me."

On my eighteenth birthday, I didn't get a cake. I got a slap from my mother and my MIT acceptance letter crushed under her heel.

In their eyes, I wasn't a daughter—I was a walking blood bank, a spare part for my cousin Jennifer.

They took my blood, made me take the blame, even sent me to prison in her place.

In that car accident, my mother saved my cousin without hesitation and left me to bleed out in the wreckage.

"Save Jennifer first! That wretch is too stubborn to die!"

That's when I gave up on them.

But what truly broke me wasn't being sent to a mental hospital—it was the diary I found hidden in my mother's safe.

Five years ago, I pulled a dying man from the depths of the ocean.
His name was Silas. When he woke up, he looked me in the eye and swore he'd marry me, that he'd protect me for the rest of his life.
I believed him.
I hid it from my clan, shed my tail, and followed him to land. I bore him a daughter—Winnie. I kept myself locked away in a villa, out of sight from the world. No wedding. No ring. Even the mermaid scales on Winnie's legs had to be covered up with layers and layers of concealer.
Until that night at the banquet. Zoe and her goons pinned us both to the tile by the pool, scraping the scales off Winnie's legs with a knife, sneering that this "filth" was such an eyesore.
I stroked her mangled calf, desperate for Silas to come save us. But Zoe said Silas was her fiancé.
Silas? Her fiancé?
Then what the hell am I?

I had to claim Caleb tonight.

I had paid a six-figure premium to contract a high-level werewolf mate from the nation’s top "Fated Mates" agency. I had chosen him for his elite stats, the "absolute submission" guaranteed in his file, and most importantly, a face that could put any Hollywood A-lister to shame.

But over the last few months, things had completely derailed from my expectations.

He refused to let me touch him!

I have to figure out what's going on.

The day I walked in on my boyfriend screwing that blonde tramp, I dropped the homemade tiramisu right there on the floor—our two-year relationship smashed to bits, messier than the splattered cream.

I ducked into a bar, slamming back whiskey, when this guy in a sharp black suit sidles up, his voice smooth as silk laced with bourbon. I spat out, "Help me forget him," but ended up totally lost in the presidential suite. He backed me against the wall, tore open my blouse, his tongue circling my nipple before biting down hard, leaving me breathless. "You taste like candy, baby—tonight, I'm gonna eat you up."

But then my boyfriend FaceTimes, spots the guy behind me, and loses it, screaming, "Dad!"

I went ice-cold—my hookup was my boyfriend's stepdad? Even worse, this thirty-three-year-old powerhouse was Brooklyn's deadliest mob boss.

What began as a vengeful fling spiraled into a forbidden nightmare?

Have you ever been treated like a stand-in for your dead sibling by your own mother? I have.

Have you ever been murdered by your own mother? I have.

My name is Aira, and today is my sister Lily's birthday. It's also the anniversary of my death—the day the washing machine became my coffin.

"Why couldn't it have been you who died?"

After four long years, my mom finally got her wish.

I loved Finley for two years.
Until 1:00 AM on a Tuesday, when his best friend, Orion, sent me a half-naked photo and a jarring voice note."
If I actually bag her, don't go flipping out on me. A deal's a deal."
I booked the first flight out to confront him, only to catch the boy I loved naked and thrusting into another woman.
But that wasn't even the part that broke me.
When my roommate bypassed the hockey team's private Discord server, I found a channel named: #locker-room-bets.
There was my boyfriend, typing the words that shattered my world: "She's boring... She's like a lost puppy, you can't shake her... Play with her all you want."
My loyalty and two years of my life were nothing but a sick joke.
The entire hockey team had put money down on when I would willingly spread my legs for his best friend.

For five years, my crime boss husband made me take off my wedding ring nine times—all for his precious damsel in distress.

When we first married, he promised me: "From now on, you're my queen, the queen of New Orleans."

But whenever Brianna came crying for help, he'd change his tune: "Mr. Parker saved my life, Claire. I owe his family everything."

And like a fool, I believed him eight times.

Eight times I watched from the shadows as he took another woman to our favorite restaurants.

Eight times I explained to the crew that our "separation" was just giving each other space.

Eight times I watched her move into my bedroom, use my dishes, sleep in my bed.

All for a man who kept making me slip off my ring, then slide it back on, over and over again.

Until the ninth time, when he said he needed to provide sperm for her fertility treatment, and I offered to leave.

He still thinks this is just another temporary break, expecting me to come crawling back in a month like always.

He'll never know I've already booked my ticket out of here.

My husband and parents wanted me dead. All because my sister was "dying."

They shoved a divorce agreement and an experimental surgery consent form at me.

I was supposed to be her donor.

But they didn't know I was the one actually dying.

Three days ago, they told me I had terminal bone cancer.

One month to live.

So when they threatened me into some back-alley surgery, I smiled.

I was already dying anyway.

I donated a kidney to my adopted sister.

Seven days later, I lay on the cold hospital bed, listening to my fiancé and family laughing down the hall.

They were popping champagne to celebrate my adopted sister's discharge.

No one remembered I had just had surgery. No one remembered my nut allergy.

When someone handed me a plate of almonds, I smiled.

I shoved them into my mouth, handful after handful, and swallowed them down. Then I told them I was done fighting for their love.

My fiancé demanded I postpone our wedding. My brother beat me until I bled and locked me on the rooftop to die.

After being abandoned eighty-eight times, I finally learned how to love myself—by cutting everyone who failed me out of my life.

Sebastian is dead.

And I'm the prime suspect.

I thought Lucy was the only one on my side, but there's always panic in her eyes. Black stockings showing up in my closet, red marks on my wrists I can't explain, texts sent from my phone that I never wrote...

The evidence keeps piling up, choking me.

My memory's slipping, the same broken nightmares on repeat. Strange perfume, cruel words, and the name "Leah" that won't leave my head.

Who is lying? Who's pulling the strings?

I can't tell what's real anymore. All I know is everyone's lying to me.

I need to find who's behind this before it destroys me.

I've been married to my husband Jake for three years. In that time, I've been pregnant twice.

But each time, I lost the baby.

What took my children wasn't a medical condition, but a painting.

A black bird, painted by Jake's ten-year-old blind brother, Billy.

My in-laws claimed he had the gift—a psychic born with sight beyond sight. And the black bird was an omen. It marked my baby as cursed, a threat to the family.

To save my second child, I got the best amniocentesis report money could buy, proving the baby had no genetic defects.

It happened again anyway.

At three in the morning, I woke to the agony of another miscarriage and stumbled to the studio door.

That's when I found out the truth.

My aunt was terrified I'd end up with a human. So she arranged a marriage herself.

The groom? Kael Voss. Alpha heir to the most powerful pack on the East Coast.

I had a Moonstone Mate Necklace custom-made for the occasion. Global commission. A hundred and eighty thousand dollars.

The day I went to pick it up, it was snatched right out of my hands.

The woman who took it? Chloe Hart. Kael's so-called childhood best friend.

She looked me up and down like I was a stray dog that had wandered in off the street.

"A hundred and eighty grand? Sweetheart, you can't even afford the tax."

Then she told me to get on my knees. Right there, in front of the whole store. Scream three times, "I'm a worthless stray Omega and I know my place."

I didn't kneel.

I threw her own words right back in her face and put her on the floor with one kick.

That's when Kael walked in. My fiancé. The man I'd never met until that very moment.

And damn... he was gorgeous.

I'll be honest, I'm shallow. Always have been. That face hit every single thing on my list.

So I walked right up to him, gave him my sweetest smile, and said, "Hi. I'm Judy. Your fiancée."

My husband, Zachary, chose to save his sister-in-law right in front of the kidnappers.

The kidnapper pressed the gun to my temple and asked, "Choose your wife or your sister-in-law?"

Zachary didn't hesitate. "Let Valerie go," he said.

He actually chose to save his sister-in-law! In that moment, even the baby in my belly seemed to stop kicking.

Later, they locked me in the basement. Drugs to delay labor were pumped into my veins over and over. Zachary wanted to save the "firstborn son" status for his sister-in-law's child.

When warm blood finally soaked through my skirt, I dialed the number I knew by heart with shaking hands.

"Zachary," I whispered into the phone, "our child... can't wait any longer."

I never imagined that the most humiliating secret of my life would be laid bare in a flimsy tent in the middle of nowhere.

Even less did I imagine that the person witnessing my unraveling would be Sebastian. He’s the CEO of a top-tier conglomerate, my direct boss, and, most damningly, my ex’s stepfather.

A freak accident left us stranded in the jungle late at night. Inside that cramped, suffocating tent, the air felt scorching, almost unbearable. Worst of all, in my rush to leave, I’d forgotten to bring the medication that suppresses my “craving disorder.”

When that sickening desire surged through me like a tidal wave, when his body heat pressed against my back through his shirt, I could only bite my lip hard, teetering on the edge of shame and instinct.

“Mr. Blackwood, please… stay away from me.”

I died once.

In my last life, someone posted my photo on the company's anonymous forum, claiming I slept my way to the top.

The comment section exploded.

Colleagues whispered behind my back and pointed fingers.

A blurry video convinced everyone the woman in it was me.

I explained. I cried. I begged.

No one believed me.

The company forced me out. My parents kicked me out.

I walked to my death, condemned by everyone.

Then I opened my eyes.

Everything went back to the beginning.

The same post, the same accusation, the same man swearing in the comments he'd seen it all himself.

This time, I'm getting my revenge.

On my due date, my husband Russell locked me in an underground freezer at minus ten degrees.

The Pembroke family's unbreakable rule: the first-born male inherits the entire mafia empire. My sister-in-law Natasha and I were both pregnant, our due dates only one day apart. To ensure his brother's child was born first, Russell made this insane decision.

"My brother and Natasha's baby has to come first—this is what you owe them!" He ignored my desperate pleas and violent contractions, coldly shoving me into the freezer.

But that wasn't enough. They forcibly injected me with labor-delaying drugs. I curled up in agony on the freezing concrete floor, feeling my baby slowly slipping away, tears of despair streaming down my face.

My baby, Mommy is so sorry...

Everyone knows my husband is obsessed with me.

He's gone against the board for me, walked away from billion-dollar deals, dropped millions at charity galas. Everyone said I'd married into a fairytale. I believed it too.

Until the anonymous email.

In the photo, he was kissing a little girl's forehead—three years old, maybe four. He looked at her the way fathers do.

Three years of marriage. Countless failed IVF attempts. Then finally—I was pregnant.

I was about to tell him when his phone buzzed. He left immediately—for another woman and her child.

I was the only one who didn't know.

If the love was fake, if the marriage was fake—then I could disappear too.

In two days, the typhoon hits. My car will go off the cliff into the ocean. No one survives that.

I'll disappear from his world forever—me and the baby he doesn't know about.

I'm eight months pregnant, throwing up so violently I can taste bile, three "miracles" growing inside me.

Until that night at their celebration dinner, when I leaned against the wall and heard laughter from inside the private room.

I could hear the amusement in my husband Frank's voice: "Let's up the bet—another million. I'm betting two boys, one girl."

His mistress Ava giggled: "You already know the results."

"Of course," he said casually. "They're my children. Of course I know."

Then I heard it.

They talked about my womb like I was some kind of breeding machine.

They clinked glasses, debating "whose eggs were worth more."

They were even betting on "which baby would come out first."

And there I was, outside the door, my swollen feet barely holding up my aching, stretched body.

Inside, they were laughing and celebrating.

Celebrating their perfect little surrogate, carrying my husband's babies with his mistress.

Right then, the nausea just... stopped.

I just felt cold.

And slowly, a plan started forming in my head.

I used to believe my husband was my hero. When Julian Miller’s empire was falling apart, I made a desperate choice to save him. I spent a night in the suite of his fiercest competitor, Arthur Vance. Julian called me his hero and said he trusted me.

But he was lying to me for five long years.

Everything changed in an instant. Watching our daughter hang from a broken roller coaster, Julian didn’t attempt to save her. Instead, he reached for his phone to call his mistress.

To him, she wasn’t a child in peril; she was just a chance to wipe out a 'mistake' and start fresh with someone who had been in our lives since the very beginning of our marriage.

Now, people see me as a heartbroken mother and an ashamed wife. Julian thinks he’s buried me under his web of lies and his influence. But he overlooked one crucial point: I have nothing more to lose, and I'm ready to settle a score.

With the one man Julian fears most by my side, I’m stepping back into the light. And by the time I’m through, he’ll understand that the woman he treated like a pawn is the very one who will bring his whole world crashing down.

After Nicholas got engaged, his assistant handed me a plane ticket.

"Leave. Don’t ever show your face in Silverlight City again."

"Otherwise, Mr. Jackson has more than enough ways to ruin you."

All those years I spent by his side, I was admired by everyone, living in the spotlight.

Yet when I finally left, I was reduced to a pitiful, laughable sight.

I said, "Fine."

But that very night, the flight plunged from over thirty thousand feet in the air.

I’m Maria, thirty years old, my body like a forgotten vine, aching to be watered and revived. Once, I thought marriage was my safe harbor, but my husband—that useless bastard—not only left me unsatisfied in bed, he betrayed my heart, screwing around with another woman. My pussy has long been dry, yet desire burns in my chest, forcing me to flee that cold, empty home and seek refuge in the vineyards of Provence, desperate for a breath of life.

Here, I met Julian. That evening, under the grapevines, he fucked me hard. I know this is just the beginning. My body and soul will be reborn in this steamy affair.

I'm a forensic audio specialist. I make a living digging up the truths people deliberately erase from static and noise.
My 19-year-old brother was accused of pushing a billionaire's bride to her death at her wedding.
The police presented their "smoking gun" recording. I heard exactly twelve seconds missing from it.
Those twelve seconds hold the truth about how the bride really died—and the billionaire family's dark secret that will get both me and my brother killed.
They smashed my equipment, threatened my life, bribed the cops, and tried to bury the truth forever.
But what they don't know is—
Some voices refuse to stay silent. Even when they're cut out.

“Why is Elara dying on my stream?”

Sienna Vale laughed in front of half a million viewers while my heroine glitched on-screen, wearing the ring I designed and speaking the line I wrote.

Caleb didn’t ask if I was okay. He shoved the emergency laptop toward me and said, “Fix it before the investors panic.”

So I opened the live build.

But instead of saving his launch, I patched one line into the game credits:

Created by Maya Reed.

"Yes baby, just like that. Oh fuck yes! Yes!"

I opened my mouth as utter shock and pain filled my body. My husband was fucking my step sister on our wedding night. Hot tears dropped from my eyes as the wet sounds and moaning grew louder and louder.


Larissa, the esteemed Luna of the Tokenmoon pack, had it all. A loving husband and a strong pack. But it was all a lie. Stefan, her alpha husband, was the devil. He maltreated and abused her constantly while cheating on her with her step-sister. To make matters worse, he rejected her and sent her away. Heartbroken, Larissa was lost until she stumbled across her second chance mate. . . Kaden.

Kaden, handsome as sin and the alpha of Griffen-howl pack is a broken man. When his wife runs away with another man, while abandoning him and his son, he vows never to believe in love. But when a homeless woman, Larissa comes into his territory, it appears that he might be breaking those vows. She is his second-chance mate but will he be able to believe in love again?

I met him the first chance at freedom I had. He was the boy from the rival team, and I was the coach's daughter. And like the naive child I was, I followed him to the backseat of his car.

An hour later, he kicked me out and left me in the driveway of a stranger's house. I wouldn't have done it if I knew I would get pregnant.

Five years later, he came back.

Steamy, dirty stories with a kinky, forbidden twist. Each story is about 20,000 words so sit back, grab some holy water and relax! It's time to sink in 11 deliciously dark and twisted love tales! Highly erotic and brimming with dark desires, don't say I didn't warn ya!

18+ Forbidden Temptations (Steamy Collections Erotica)
Coach and Cheerleader
Principal and Student
Step-brother and Step-sister
Teacher and Student
Step-father and step-daughter
Father’s best friend and 18 year old daughter
Professor and college student
Secretary and Ceo
Maid and master
Younger boy and older woman
Doctor and female student

"I'll marry you."
Lauren Greene never thought those words would escape her lips. But with her mother's life hanging by a thread and emergency surgery costing more than she could ever afford, desperation left her with only one choice—marry a crippled stranger.
Alexander Magnus, the reclusive billionaire heir who lost his parents in a tragic hit-and-run and survived the accident that left him disabled, had spent twenty years abroad rebuilding himself. He returned home ready to take over his father's empire—and marry the woman he had loved silently for years, Melissa McCarthy.
But on the day of their court wedding, Melissa never showed up.
Instead, Alex crossed paths with Lauren, a woman willing to trade her freedom for a chance to save her mother.
Their marriage of convenience was meant to be nothing more than a transaction—until real feelings began to slip through the cracks.
And just as Lauren and Alex start to find a fragile rhythm together, Melissa suddenly returns, determined to reclaim Alex as hers.
Tom Devon—the ruthless billionaire rival who has fallen for Lauren—steps into the picture, vowing to take her away.
With jealousy rising, secrets unraveling, and Lauren's mother's shocking death pointing fingers toward Alex, their world threatens to crumble.
Will Lauren fight for the man she's beginning to love? Or flee, like she always has?
And can Alex and Lauren survive the chaos closing in around them or is their happy ending destined to shatter before it even begins?

I glared when his hand reached again to my neck. Our faces only an inch apart. His big hand was almost wrapping it whole. His thumb massaging my throat like a feather. "And when I thrust inside of you, I want to hear you scream my name. Every name of mine."
"Dante. Adriano. Sol. Di. Angelo." His thumb stroking the center of my neck while uttering every name he owned. His eyes hooded in heat, lust clouding the windows of his soul. "And when you cum, it'll be Dante you moan."

Hailynn Fleury is a talented painter. Growing up as an orphan, she and her best friend Ethan, always wanted to get back to the people that helped and cared for them. When one of her friends convinced her to auction her paintings at one of her charity events, it didn't take much persuasion knowing the money would go to the orphanage.
On the night of the auction, her future took another turn when she saw a handsome man holding a gun. Later finding out that he was a mafia boss with an intention of keeping her from thereon. Witnessing him pulling a trigger to someone would have been the mafia boss' wisest decision to never let her go. Except that he couldn't touch the girl knowing the promise he had with his cousin. Dreams of bedding the girl is no longer an option. But how will he treat his ragazza, really?

Find out how both of their lives took a turn- with the aspiring artist and the Italian mafia boss.

“You disgust me.”

I blinked back the tears that wanted to fall and forced myself to move forward. This was just another challenge I had to face, another hurdle in my mission.

I couldn’t let Hunter break me, no matter how much he seemed to enjoy tormenting me. I would survive this. I had to. Even if it meant swallowing my pride and scrubbing floors until my hands bled.


As an Omega from a rival pack, Faelen Earhart’s mission is clear: infiltrate the ruthless Howle Wulf Pack and pose as a servant. But blending in proves harder than expected, especially when she catches the eye of Alpha Hunter Blackethorn—a notorious playboy who loathes weakness and makes Faelen’s life a living nightmare. Despite his cruelty, Faelen finds herself drawn to him, sparking a dangerous attraction that’s as thrilling as it is confusing.
When Faelen uncovers an imminent attack from her own pack, she faces an impossible choice: remain loyal to her pack or protect the man she’s come to care for. Her warning changes everything, forcing Hunter to confront his own feelings. In the battle that follows, Faelen’s courage will redefine her loyalty, Hunter’s heart, and the future of both packs.

Warning: Mature content!

He let his hand squeeze her breast gently through the gown she wore, then he applied a little bit of force. He heard her make a whimpering sound into his mouth and he swallowed it up. He released her hands and pushed her to himself with his hand while caressing her breast.


His unwilling slave…

Fiery and innocent, Lady Roksolana was once the esteemed and privileged daughter of the sultanate king. Until she was captured by the enemy, the all powerful and devilishly charming Sultan, Sheikh Jamal Aamil.

The ruthless king…

Worshipped as a god by his people, sinfully hot Jamal takes ahold of Roksolana during an attack and back to his palace. Drawn to her exotic beauty, he tries to bends her to his seductive whims. Except that Roksolana refuses to suppress her bold spirit for any man, especially such an arrogant one like Jamal, who sees her as nothing but his possession, a jewel in his harem and a slave to slake his pleasure on.

Bound together by desire…

Soon, Roksolana finds herself succumbing to his sensual touches and in the process falls in love with him. But with another danger in the air, ememies scheming wicked plots and his favorite mistress raging with jealousy, will these two be able to find love in the midst of all the chaos?

A thrilling tale of love, lust and desire.