228 Book(s) Related to juniper hill devney perry read online

In my previous life, my wife was addicted to black market gambling on football, which caused us to lose everything.
To make matters worse, a zombie horde then broke out.
We had no shelter and were quickly torn apart by a horde of frenzied zombies.
After being reborn, she planned to run off with all the money, then dump me and elope with her lover.
What she didn't know was that I had awakened the ability to read minds and knew all her plans.

I have been tormented by a strange illness for ten years, with blood draws and surgeries being commonplace.
My mother always encouraged me, saying, "Nian Nian, bear with it a little longer. The pain will be over soon. Mom and Dad are doing this to save your life."
Hoping to be cured as soon as possible, I gritted my teeth and endured ten years of painful treatments, even if it meant living like a lab subject.
That was until I accidentally overheard my parents’ cruel conversation:
“Increase the blood draw even more. It doesn’t matter if she dies—she was only picked up to save Ying Ying. As long as she has a breath left, she owes it to us.”
At that moment, I finally understood: I was never sick at all.
The decade of daily treatments were nothing but a way to use me to extend the life of their biological daughter.

His lips were on hers, hard, demanding and devastating. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him, making her feel every inch of his dominance.
She moaned against his lips, her fingers threading into his dark hair, pulling him closer.
The energy in the chamber shifted. The symbols on the walls glowed, reacting to their unbreakable seething bond.
Damian pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. His silver eyes burned with something she had never seen before, something ancient, something dangerous.
"This bond," he murmured, brushing his thumb over her lips, swollen from his kiss. "It’s more than just fate, Isla. It’s something that was written in the stars long before we ever met."


To repay her father's debt, Isla steps into the world of Damian Wolff, an enigmatic and dangerous Alpha of a powerful werewolf pack. What begins as servitude quickly becomes something more, as an undeniable pull binds them together.
But Isla is no ordinary human. Strange visions, violent dreams, and a power she can't explain begin to awaken, catching the attention of ancient forces determined to control or destroy her.
As Isla's connection with Damian deepens, truths about her bloodline unravel and a long-lost prophecy connected to their legacy threaten with reshaping their world.
Allies fall, enemies rise and forbidden bonds emerge as the future is in Isla’s hands.
Torn between love, duty and destiny, Isla must make an impossible choice: protect those she loves by surrendering herself or rise as the force she was born to be, even if it means tearing everything apart.
Passion, prophecy and betrayal weave a story where one woman’s fate could change everything.

"Meet me in your room in thirty minutes, for your wedding surprise," the message read, making me giggle. My ears twitched with excitement as I anticipated the gift I was to get from my sister.
"I hope it is something I have always wanted," I said, the eagerness in my voice.
I made my way upstairs to my room. I had gotten close to my room when I heard some weird noises. I began to walk slowly, thinking my sister was in bed with one of her numerous lovers. It was no surprise to me, as this was not the first time, so I didn't have any issues barging in since I knew my sister didn't care one bit. I held the handle to my door as I pushed it further, entering with speed in an attempt to surprise my sister.
"Jasm-" the complete words never left my mouth, as the glass cup I was holding fell to the ground.
I stood frozen in the doorway, my heart shattering into a million pieces. My eyes were fixed on the unthinkable scene before me.
My husband, lying in my bed, wrapped in the hands of my sister.
How could they? On my wedding night? In my bed?
"I gave you everything Raymond! My time, my emotions, even my dignity, and this is how you repay me back?" I voiced at him, as I looked at him with disdain.
"And you!" I turned to the wretched being I called a sister. "I took care of you, gave you everything you ever asked for and this is what you do to me?"
I looked over at the two of them on my bed, still naked, cowering in shame.


Adrianna Yvonne's world is turned upside down when she walks in on her husband and sister in a compromising position on her wedding night.
The betrayal cuts deep, and Adrianna finds herself reeling from the shock. In a desperate attempt to escape the pain, she flees to a nearby club, where she drowns her sorrows in alcohol and loses herself in the music. In her vulnerable state, she meets a mysterious stranger, and, fueled by pain and recklessness, they share a one night stand.
However, the consequences of her actions become even more complicated when Adrianna discovers that the stranger she slept with is her husband's elder brother...

What a ridiculous thing happened to me!

I was sent as a substitute for my sister for just one night but I ended up marrying her supposed husband.

“What are you doing? Are you not aware of the reason for which you're here?” He said and sat on bed. I sat straight and curled my legs.

“I…I…but I'm a virgin and the thought of all this is what scares me.” I said and Greyson gave me an evil smirk.

My voice wasn't supposed to sound this weak and pathetic but I can't hide my emotions.

“You have nothing to fear. I'm the man who would be marrying you. Think of this as our marriage consummation.” He said and my eyes brimmed with tears.

If only he knew that I am not the woman he would be marrying. I am simply her substitute. I thought to myself.

Greyson reached out to my legs, and dragged his fingers on them, and pulled me by the legs to himself. He frowned when he saw that I still wore a mask and suspicion took over him.

“Remove your mask, Bella. There's no need to hide your face from me. He said and I shook my head. Greyson tilted his head, and his eyes became cold.

“Remove the mask, Isabella Walters!” He said authoritatively and I gasped.

This was trouble!

“How much for this temptress?” Beta Daniels asked causing me to flinch at the name.

“ 100 jewels.” Came a voice from someone sitting up front.

“200.” Came another voice.

“500” Hollered another.

The room was silent for a moment.

“500 going once, 500 going twice, Sold to Lord Issacson,” Beta Daniels announced.

I felt my heart skip a beat. I had been sold.

“ I want her.” Came a loud snarl.

Everyone in the crowd grew silent.

“Your…Your highness.” Stumbled Beta Daniels, bowing down onto his knee. “We weren’t expecting you tonight.”

“ I want her,” the Vampire King said again. “She is mine.”

“But your highness. She’s already been sold.” Beta Daniels spoke timidly.

“ I don’t care. I want her.” He responded. “ What the king claims, the king gets.”


There’s talk around the supernatural community that Nikolai, is growing weak without a Queen by his side. As the king of vampires, the ruler of the supernatural world, who has been on the throne for a millennium, he would never fall in love with a blood slave he brought from a slave auction.

Wouldn't he?

So now that you finished fondling my beta. I guess we should settle whatever this is between us.” Damien said.

My heart jumped hearing his voice. Goddess, he really was perfect. “ I was not fondling your Beta,” I rolled my eyes at him. “For such a mighty powerful Alpha, you didn’t even notice that your Beta purposely tripped me.”

“Did you just roll your eyes at me.” Damien growled while leering at me, ignoring my comment about Alex tripping me on purpose.

Something about the aggression he was showing started to build a fire in my core. I bit my lip. And looked up at him. “And if I did?” I said egging him on. As soon as I said the words I knew I had made a mistake. Damien was upon me and grabbed me around the waist dragging me to the couch. He lowered me down and was instantly on top of me.


Since Guinevere was a child her dream was to leave the Blue Moon pack and to start a life for herself. A life where she wouldn’t be known as the Traitors Daughter. Unfortunately the day she turns 18 she finds her mate, and he just so happens to be the Alpha of the Blue Moon pack.

Alpha Damien is the Alpha of the Blue Moon pack. He is 24 and still unmated. There have been rumors around the pack that the Valencia men have been cursed by the moon goddess, why else would Damien’s dad, Sam lose his mate to another wolf, and Damien still remain unmated?

Rejected by her mate for her best friend, ends up in a complicated situation with two men leading to humiliation.

What situation and why was she rejected?

Successfully escaping, moved to a new city to begin a new life but found one of her forgotten pasts staring right back at her in the face.

What past is this?

Humiliated, tortured, bullied and all, soon discovers she was granted a second chance mate but not one this time, two.

As Eve struggles to battle with this knowledge, she realizes she isn't who she thought she was at all but something greater, and now everyone wants her, including her ex.

I ran by hands down his broad shoulders, squeezing his firm biceps.

“Like what you see Princess?” Aphelion asked, a cocky smirk on his face,

“Just shut up and kiss me.” I replied back as I lifted my hands off of his arms and wrapped them in his hair, pulling him down towards me.

THIS IS A REVERSE HAREM NOVEL- READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION…


Katrina was left at an orphanage as an infant. On her 21st birthday Katrina’s best friends take her to the Popular club Hecate where her life turns upside down. One minute she’s having fun getting drunk, the next she’s blasting a pervert on his ass with some unknown power that just blasted out of her hands. Now Katrina is stuck attending school with a bunch of demigods and four very attractive very dangerous gods, who have all staked a claim on her……

“I know you wanted me to kiss you on the couch,” Drake growled before slamming his mouth down on Lydia’s.

Lydia let out a low moan against his mouth, allowing his tongue to enter into her mouth. Their tongues battled for dominance as Lydia ran her hands across Drake’s muscular arms.

Drake broke the kiss, leaving Lydia breathless.

“Do you want this?” He asked. His voice is low and throaty. Lydia could tell from his voice how turned on he was.

Lydia nodded shyly.

“Words Lydia,” Drake said, “I need to hear you say you want me as much as I want you.”


Lydia is just a woman trying to make ends meet. Her mother was in a terrible car accident, causing Lydia to drop out of college, quit her waitressing job and join Mia Novella’s escort service. Will Lydia be able to find herself again, after sinking so low?

Drake Whittenberg, is a self-made billionaire. He is the heir to the Wittenberg family, though he doesn’t want anything to do with his family. It’s the reason he left home at 18 and started his real estate empire. Ten years later, and his baby brother is getting married, and he wants Drake to be the best man for his destination wedding. Not wanting to face his family, Drake dials up Mia Novella’s escort service. Will Lydia and Drake be able to conqueror their hidden demons together?

"What do you think I'm trying to do, daddy?"
"Daddy?"
"I love how you say my name. It sounds like a prayer. Like a plea."
"You're playing with fire."
"Good. So I expect to be burned beyond recognition."


He was her father's best friend. Her forbidden night. And the biggest lie of her life.
Maria has just landed her dream promotion which was supposed to be the start of everything she has worked for. Heartbroken and humiliated by a devastating betrayal, she seeks comfort in the arms of a stranger for just one reckless night, only for him to reappear the next day as her father's best friend and shockingly as her company's CEO.
Petyr is older, powerful and everything Maria should run from but fate keeps pushing them together and she is pulled into a world of power, lust and manipulation.
As betrayals unravel and seduction turns into obsession, a devastating truth emerges: every moment from the heartbreak to their electrifying encounters was orchestrated.
With her heart on the line and a scandalous tape threatening to destroy her, Maria must decide, will she run from the man who broke her or surrender to the man who had claimed her body and soul?

"Ahh, just like that. Fuck me deeper!"
Amelia's moans filled the air, her body betraying her desire for the ruthless man who claimed her.
But behind the passion lay a darker truth.
Her life spiraled into misery when she was caught in the webs of slavery by the merciless Mafia Don, Alessandro DeMarco.
As punishment for daring to infiltrate his powerful organization, Alessandro made her his slave—bound to serve him forever. Amelia's heart burned with betrayal, especially by the man she once loved, who lured her into destruction and abandoned her when she needed him most.
Resigned to her fate, Amelia worked for the Don as his possession, torn between hatred and the dangerous attraction that grew stronger with every stolen touch.
What happens when love begins to blur the lines between punishment and passion?
Will Alessandro be able to control his feelings for her?
Or will Amelia surrender completely to the deadly Mafia Don who makes her body tremble… and her heart betray her?

Rye: I'm out for revenge. I just saw Lauren Blakewell on national TV. Twelve years after she and her con woman mother scammed my father and ruined our lives, there she was. Looking like a goddess. Engaged to the son of a U.S. senator. She and her evil mother never paid for what they did. But I’ve never forgotten. Now I’m going to DC and I’m out for justice. I’m Rye McAllister, heir to the former McAllister fortune, and I’m going to stand up for my family. Lauren will pay. One way or another, I’ll get her back. Lauren: I’m so close to freedom. So close. One more job, and Bliss will let me go. That’s why the sight of Rye McAllister is such a shock. Not because he was the subject of all my childhood fantasies. Not because he looks like a tough and sexy cowboy now. But because he can ruin everything for me. I have to stop him. Whatever it takes. I have to make him an offer he can’t refuse. A proposition he can’t resist. If I enjoy it too…that’ll be my secret. And I have more secrets than Rye can ever imagine.

Eight times. That's how many boyfriends my best friend Sera has "tested" for me. Eight times she's proven they weren't good enough by stealing them away with her perfect smile and fake concern.
"I'm just looking out for you, Lia," she always says. "If he really loved you, he wouldn't be tempted by me."
But this time is different. This time, it's Ryan—my boss, my almost-something, the first man who's ever made me believe I might be worth loving. When Sera comes back to town asking about my love life, I panic and lie. There's no one, I tell her. Nothing happening at all.
Big mistake.
Now she's got her sights set on him, and I'm watching her work her magic all over again. The late-night texts, the red lace lingerie, the hotel room invitation. I should just accept it like I always do. Let her prove once again that I'm not worth fighting for.
But I'm done being the girl who hands over everything she wants. This time, I'm fighting back.

"Baby, lend me Stella for the movie."
When my fiancé Damon said this, I thought it was the most romantic thing ever. My guide dog starring in his Oscar-worthy film—what a perfect love story.
I'm Aria Sinclair, 26-year-old blind film producer with perfect pitch and endless money, but no eyes. So when he said "The press will go crazy for our story," I stupidly agreed.
Three weeks later, in the editing room:
01:47:23—Dull impact.
01:47:31—Familiar whimper.
01:47:35—Silence.
My perfect pitch never lies. That wasn't CGI—that was real impact. Worse, I knew that whimper. That was Stella, my guide dog, my eyes, my most loyal companion.
They killed her. For a goddamn trophy.
On premiere night, when Damon walked the red carpet with a strange German Shepherd, when I touched her paw and found no white star-shaped mark—
"This is not my dog!"
I broke down in front of hundreds of reporters.
"Honey, you're under too much stress," Damon said gently. "Maybe you need rest."
Whispers from the audience: "Poor blind girl..." "She really needs help..."
Just like that, I became the crazy one.
Abandoned by the world.
Betrayed by the man I loved most.
But they made one fatal mistake—they thought stealing my eyes would silence me.
Now it's time to let them hear what despair sounds like...
[Click to watch me destroy them both...]

"Where is my son?"
My husband wouldn't look at me.
I had just come out of anesthesia. The bassinet next to my hospital bed was empty — except for a stack of cash, a christening card, and a ring pinned to the corner of the card.
The card had another woman's name in the godmother box.
That woman walked in behind my husband. She picked up the ring and slid it onto her own finger.
"He's safe, sweetheart. We've been talking about this for months."
My husband is Damiano Marchetti. He runs the family that runs this city. The woman wearing the ring is his father's young widow.
The baby on that card is my son.
For four years now I have been the woman this house pretends not to see. The wife told to use the servants' entrance. The mother of a boy who calls another woman Mommy.
Last night I asked my husband for a divorce.
He laughed in my face.
He has no idea how much that's going to cost him.

I woke up the morning the contract was due, picked up the pen, and crossed out my own name.
Wrote my sister's instead.
Last time, I packed away every leather jacket I owned and let Stefano Mastroianni's stylist dress me in things that needed dry cleaning. I sat straight at his family dinners and smiled until my face hurt. I let him correct my posture in front of his mother like I was something he hadn't finished training.
I did all of it, and I still ended up in the ground.
So this time I gave him Chiara. Took Pier Nine from my father as the price, and got out.
He thought he was getting his perfect bride.
On the wedding day, he reached for her hands—and felt it immediately. Smooth palms. Not a mark on them. Not the hands of a woman who'd been gripping a steering wheel since she was sixteen.
He pulled the veil up.
Chiara looked back at him, flushed with triumph.
Stefano stripped the Mastroianni ring off her finger in front of every powerful family in the city, kicked over the altar, and put one question through the cathedral walls:
"Where is Tessa."

The night Declan Ashford announces his chosen mate, everyone in the pack expects me to show up and fall apart.
I don't go.
What I do instead: I'm sitting on the floor of Cael Voss's dorm room in a training jacket that isn't mine, asking whether his mattress is filled with rocks. Cael is Declan's packmate at the academy. His equal in rank. His roommate. The last person I had any reason to call tonight.
I called him anyway.
Here's what he doesn't know: I'm not actually Beta. My real rank was sold before I was old enough to understand what that meant. I've been suppressing it for years.
Here's what I don't know: he's had something of mine under his pillow for two years. Something small. Something I spent three days looking for before I gave up.
Neither of us has said anything about it yet.

My roommate put a Blood Binding Curse on me — my own bloodline power, along with every resource I receive, gets automatically rerouted straight to her.
My ex helped her set it up. For six months she lived off my bloodline playing noble princess, him always on her arm, while I walked around hollow. The harder I fought to prove myself, the more I fed her.
Then I died. Came back knowing everything.
Here's what I figured out: the curse reroutes everything I receive.
Including debt.
I went to a guild and borrowed a batch of elixirs. Opened the contract.
The debtor on the line wasn't me.

For six years, I wore Pack silver. I sold my blood. I scrubbed silver out of Pack den floors. I slept on a basement floor — all to pay off my mate's Pack debt and buy my brother's wolfsbane antidote.
Today, with the receipt finally signed, my brother looked at me and said:
"Seren, I was never poisoned. Our parents aren't dead either. The Rogue raid six years ago — I arranged it. The only wolf hurt that night was you."
My mate stepped up behind him: "I never lost my Pack rank either. I've been at the estate the whole time."
Then my parents — the ones I'd buried seven years ago — walked through the door.
The Pack physician had given me forty-eight hours left to live.
They were going to remember every single one.

I just got out of prison after three years, and my family wants me to go back in.
"It's only three days," they said. "You survived three years—what's three more days?"
What they don't know: I'm dying. The only thing keeping me alive is my mate bond. Three days away from Everett means death.
For three years in prison, someone sent me food every week. No note, no name. I thought it meant my family still loved me.
I was so grateful.
I didn't know it was my twin sister. I didn't know what was inside.

I spent five years loving Beckett Calloway.
When his ex-girlfriend died saving his life, I held him through every nightmare. When he said he "wasn't ready" for marriage, I waited. When he whispered "soon," I believed him.
Then her sister showed up. Crying about some terminal illness. Begging him to take care of her.
He let her move onto our private island—the one he promised would only ever belong to us.
He introduced her at the gala where he was supposed to announce our engagement.
He got her pregnant.
And when I told him she was lying about everything, he looked at me like I was the monster.
Then came our wedding rehearsal. She walked down the aisle in my dress. He slid his ring onto her finger. The chapel caught fire. I collapsed, bleeding.
He scooped her up and ran. Didn't even glance back.
So I burned my vows, deleted every trace of myself, and vanished.
This time, I wasn't coming back.

There are no unmated males in our pack.
Every she-wolf in Hollowfen is promised to someone when she turns eighteen. We just don't get to know who until we walk into the Choosing Hall.
Girls go in wearing white. They come out flushed, shaking, barely able to stand. Some laugh. Some cry. None of them talk about what happens inside.
My sister Thessaly turned eighteen this spring. Gran told her she couldn't attend the Choosing.
She went anyway. She came back on shaking legs, with blood between her thighs and a smile she couldn't wipe off her face.

I took a bullet for my husband five years ago. He married me in the ICU before the anesthesia wore off.
Raffaele Santoro—heir to the most powerful mafia family in Italy—told me I was his everything. He bought a castle and named it after me. He reserved a grave beside his parents so we'd lie together for eternity.
While I was pumping my body full of hormones for our fourth round of IVF, he was across town watching his childhood sweetheart give birth to twin boys.
He named one of them Dante—the name I'd chosen for our future son.
The night I found out, I was seven weeks pregnant with his child.
I didn't tell him.
I called my best friend and said: I need everyone to think I'm dead.

The ultrasound photo caught fire slowly, curling at the edges before the flame swallowed it whole.
I watched it burn in front of my mother's grave.
Eight weeks. That was how far along I had been.
Three days ago, on the anniversary of her death, I came here to talk to her. To tell her she was going to be a grandmother.
Instead, I found my husband fucking his ex-girlfriend against the oak tree twenty feet from her headstone.
I lost the baby that night.

My husband never wore condoms with me. Said they ruined it for him. So I swallowed birth control pills for four years until they made me sick.
Then I found a half-empty box in his glove compartment. And a thong under his backseat.
That wasn't even the worst part.
The necklace I'd made from my mother's ashes—the one I'd been grieving over losing for a year—was dangling between his twenty-three-year-old trainee's tits. He stole it from our bedroom and gave it to her.
She caught me staring. She smiled.
When I confronted him, he slapped me. Then drove off with her crying in his passenger seat.
Her friends came to my hospital with a livestream, demanding I apologize for "bullying" her.
I led them straight to the parking garage.
They found her on a stretcher. Legs wrapped around my husband. No condom.
The whole internet watched.

In my last life, my boyfriend's childhood best friend handed out jars of homemade sunscreen on the boat ride to the island. I'm a marine bio major — one sniff and I knew the mix had something in it that could drive the island's feral hogs into a frenzy. I told everyone to throw them out.
They did. But Brynn didn't look at the group. She looked at me. Eyes red, jaw tight. "You just can't stand seeing people appreciate anything I do, can you?" She turned and ran into the woods alone.
We searched for her all night in a storm. By morning we found her body at the bottom of the cliffs.
A week later, at her memorial bonfire on the beach, every person who'd gotten hurt during the search turned on me. My boyfriend ripped off his bandage and showed his stitches. "If you hadn't humiliated Brynn in front of everyone, she'd still be alive."
Someone said I should burn for what I did to her.
Then hands on my back. The fire. I burned alive on the sand while seventeen people watched.
I opened my eyes. Salt air. Engine noise. I was back on the boat — the morning of the trip.

My husband told me our daughter was brain-dead. He put a pen in my hand and told me to sign the organ donation form. He said it was the merciful thing to do.
I signed.
Then I watched her heart get cut out and transplanted into another child — his mistress's son.
He'd been planning it for months. The fake diagnosis, the doctor who happened to be his college girlfriend, the night his mother lured me away from the hospital so they could drug my little girl.
When I found out the truth, he killed me for it.
But somehow, I woke up back at that desk. Same pen. Same form. Same lying face waiting for my signature.
This time, I'm not signing. This time, they pay.

My daughter died on her fifth birthday.
Her first real wish—the first one she was old enough to make herself—was to go to the beach with Daddy.
Gideon promised he would take her.
She waited for him all day. She was still asking for him when she took her last breath.
He never came.
I brought her ashes to the beach she'd always dreamed of. Let her finally see the ocean.
That's when I heard it—a woman's moan, low and breathy, coming from behind the rocks.
Then his voice. Then his name on her lips.
"Between me and Lily, who do you love more?"
"You. Obviously."
He was fucking his mistress on our daughter's dream beach—while I stood there holding her ashes.
When I finally confronted them, I didn't get an apology. I got a slap across the face.
And when his mistress caught my eye and smiled, I realized something.
She knew exactly when my daughter would die.

I was a scholarship student with thirty extra pounds. Del Ashford had two hundred thousand followers and her family's supplement brand on every wall of the athletic center. First week of school, she decided we were going to be best friends.
She said she wanted to help me get in shape. What that actually looked like: I carried her product shipments up three flights of stairs, drafted her emails, and picked up her lunch from the place across campus that didn't deliver.
My roommates started calling me her errand girl behind my back. I let them.
She also introduced me to Beckett Hale. After that, things went the way they went.
She knocked my protein shake over and said I'd burned her. She planted her limited-edition earphones in my bag and told everyone I'd stolen them. The school opened a conduct review. My roommates stopped talking to me.

Beckett said I was the kind of girl who got a little attention and started thinking she deserved more of it.
I couldn't prove any of it. By spring, I was gone.
Some people just aren't built for this, Wren. You know that, right?
Del hadn't even been looking at me when she said it.
Then I opened my eyes and I was back at the party. The night she introduced me to Beckett.

The idea came from Cora.
She ran into the kitchen while I was making dinner, wrapped both arms around my waist, and looked up at me.
"Mommy, can we go to Grandma Ellen's? Just us two? Just us girls?"
"Why?" I asked.
She thought about it, very serious. "Because every time I wake up and you're not home, I miss you. Even when Daddy's there, it's different." A pause. "Grandma Ellen probably misses you just as much as I do."
Reid was leaning in the doorway. He smiled at me—that easy, certain smile—and said, "She's not wrong. You've been running on empty for months. Take the trip. I've got everything covered."
The flights were booked before I finished washing the dishes.
I should have noticed how fast that was.
The call I made the night before we flew home changed everything. I thought I'd hung up.
I hadn't.

In my last life, I fell for every word out of Ryan's mouth.
To save his shot at attending physician, I volunteered to take the fall for his medical malpractice case.
My license was revoked. I went from being a surgeon to being a housewife trapped in his family's home, wasting ten years of my life chained to a kitchen stove.
I thought my sacrifice would earn me his gratitude for the rest of our lives.
Turns out, he'd been sleeping with that doe-eyed little nurse, Lily, for God knows how long.
When years of exhaustion finally caught up with me and my heart gave out, I collapsed on the freezing basement floor.
My husband Ryan was upstairs, arms wrapped around Lily, sleeping in the master bedroom we'd bought with my dowry.
"That bitch is finally kicking the bucket. Once she croaks, this house is ours."

My boss and I had one night. A mistake—or so I told myself, right up until I found a file in his office with my photo labeled "Potential Breeder," tucked inside a folder marked Pack Hierarchy. Same night the pregnancy test came back positive.
His eyes were glowing gold when he walked in.
I ran before sunrise. New name, new city, a life built from nothing.
Five years later, my son stops aggressive dogs in midair with his bare hands. He wakes up at 3 AM telling me someone is coming before the car even turns onto our street. His eyes flash gold when he's angry, and his voice makes grown men step back without knowing why.
The most powerful werewolf in the western territories has been looking for us for five years.
He just found our street.

My neighbor Beck Morrow was the best high school point guard this state had seen in years.
The night before the state championship—three college scouts in the stands—he decided to stay home with his girlfriend instead. She wasn't feeling well.
I called his coach.
He played. He got the scholarship. He built a company worth eight figures before he turned thirty, and I spent five years writing every algorithm that company ran on.
He repaid me by throwing a ball at my head during a training session. Then his lawyers sent a letter explaining that I had no legal claim to any intellectual property developed under my employment contract, effective immediately, and that my position was being terminated.
Then I woke up. It was the first week of senior year again.

On our wedding night, my husband wanted to play a game.
Trade secrets. The kind that could destroy you if they ever got out.
He went first.
"I hurt a girl once. At a ski lodge. She shouldn't have been in that room. But she was."
He said it like a parking ticket. Then he took a sip of whiskey and moved on.
My turn.
"I killed someone," I said. "Do you believe me?"
He laughed. He thought I was joking.
He really shouldn't have kissed me after that.

At last season's Grand Olfactory Gala, Vivienne Harrow presented my formula before I could reach the stage.
I confronted her. She asked where my proof was.
I had nothing. The formula had never left my head — no notes, no records, nothing. I didn't know how she'd gotten it.
I died not knowing.
Then I opened my eyes, and she was already reaching for me.
"Not this time."
I stepped back.

Ethan Calloway and I had been together for eight years. Married for three—or so everyone thought.
We had the ceremony. The hospital chapel, the white dress, his boss giving a toast. But we never made it to City Hall to sign the papers. He promised we would. Eighteen times.
Every time, something came up. Or rather, someone came up—his young protégée, Chloe. She needed him at the hospital. She needed him at the conference. She needed him at dinner.
I drank on his behalf at every work function. I wrote the surgical plans he presented as his own. I waited in an empty apartment while he drove her home.
The nineteenth time he tried to reschedule, I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I just booked a one-way ticket to the one city he'd never follow me to.
He made eighteen promises. I only needed to break one.

At four, they shattered both my legs. At six, they ruptured my left eardrum. At seven, they took my right eye—said I'd earn more sympathy begging blind.
After twelve years in hell, my billionaire parents finally found me.
The girl who stole my life grabbed my wrist, nails digging into my skin. "Dare take what's mine, and I'll break whatever's left of your legs."
I smiled, unclipping both prosthetics to show empty pant legs. "I don't have legs left."
She was terrified.

Lina Maria is a beautiful woman, born with elegant and distinctive features. There were countless of men chasing her, but she has never accepted any one of them. She will always remember the promise that her first love made to her in high school, “Wait for me, you will be the only girl that I will marry!”

Six years later, she was forced to marry the cold and ruthless billionaire president of DT Holdings, Lucas Lopez. “Since she wants to play with me, I will play with her till the end. I will make sure that she will heavily regret her decision to marry me for the rest of her life!”

"Leave this country and don't ever come back!" Being the sole survivor of her family's tragic car accident, a mysterious man gave Stephanie Ruan a chance to flee for her life.

Eight years later, Stephanie Ruan returned to the country as the director of an internationally renowned publishing firm. Upon knowing that her family's car accident is related to the prestigious Zhong Family, her best bet is to get close to Javier Zhong to find out the truth and avenge her family members.

"I want to be your fiancé." With her new identity and strong character, she fearlessly plotted against the most powerful and ruthless man in the country, Javier Zhong. Unlike other women whose biggest dream is to marry him, Stephanie Ruan spat out those words with much unwillingness. Of course, to scheme against such a dangerous man, there would be risks and sacrifices involved. She could either be killed by him or... unexpectedly fall deeply in love with him?

Whichever the result is, Stephanie Ruan knows that once she enters this game, there is no turning back!

I loved Callum Crane for five years. He said I didn't fit. Then he proposed — to my sister.
The same night, his brother called me with the most insane idea I've ever heard: marry him instead. Same day. Same venue. Right across the hall from my ex and my sister's ceremony.
I said yes. Not because I loved Emrys Crane. Because I'd rather set the whole thing on fire than sit in a pew and watch.
Here's the thing about revenge marriages, though. They're supposed to be fake.
Nobody told Emrys.
The man had a wrench set in his truck that only fit my grandmother's machine — bought years before I ever spoke to him. He'd been sneaking looks through my workshop window so often the stone wore down. He fixed my motorcycle three times and never mentioned it. He remembered that I stared at a piece of almond brittle for ten seconds once, and bought it for me weeks later.
Seven years. He'd been in love with me for seven years. Said nothing. Did everything.
And Callum? The man who told me I didn't fit?
He showed up at my orchard with an apology and a folder full of evidence against my sister, begging for a second chance.
I looked him in the eye and said: "Too late. Wrong harvest."
He tried five more times. It only got worse for him.

Nine and a half million followers. Penthouse in LA. More money than I ever dreamed possible.
I built my empire teaching people to transform themselves, to become beautiful despite their scars. What I never told them was why I needed to learn that skill in the first place.
Then she slides into my DMs: "OMG ScarlettGlow! We went to high school together! Your biggest fan here!"
Madison Blackwell. The golden girl who made my teenage years hell.
She has no clue that ScarlettGlow is actually Scarlett Murphy—the "nobody" she tortured until I disappeared senior year. Now she's broke, desperate, and literally begging me for attention.
I'm staring at her across this overpriced Beverly Hills restaurant, watching her panic over an eight-hundred-dollar guest fee while I casually pull out my black Amex.
The girl who once said I'd never amount to anything is now desperately trying to impress me.
Should I tell her who I really am?

At 2:17 AM, six weeks postpartum, new mom Harper thought she was just responding to her baby's crying. Instead, she discovered her husband Kieran and their live-in nanny Anya in the most intimate embrace—right beside her daughter's crib.
In her most vulnerable moment, in what should have been the safest space in her home, the two people she trusted most were betraying everything sacred about motherhood and marriage. Worse yet, they thought she was just another "baby-brained" mom who would never catch on.

They seriously underestimated what a mother is capable of.

When Harper finds that mysterious $300 Victoria's Secret charge on their shared account, when she discovers Kieran's handwritten love notes hidden in Anya's room, when she overhears them mocking her "annoying" middle-of-the-night feedings—she realizes it's time to show them what a real "burning sensation" feels like.

So the next time they tried to sneak around, Harper secretly swapped out their lube for her own special blend.

If you want to play with fire, let me show you what burning really feels like.

Thirteen years. That's how long I loved Reid Holloway.
When he said he was being bullied, I believed him. When he kissed me on that rooftop, I thought he felt the same. When he asked me to transfer schools with him, I said yes without hesitation.
Then I heard him bragging to his friends: "She'd save her first time for me. Hell, she'd still be thinking of me on her wedding night."
The bullying was staged. The kiss meant nothing. He just wanted me gone—so his new girl could feel more comfortable.
He thought I'd beg. He thought I'd cry. He thought I'd never actually leave.
I left the country.
And ran straight into his stepbrother.

I was kidnapped at five. Found at sixteen. Dead at nineteen.
My parents are top transplant surgeons. The night I was murdered, they were saving my sister's life with a "legally sourced" donor heart. They signed the paperwork themselves.
That heart was mine. Cut from my chest while I was still breathing.
The sister they saved? She's the one who handed me to the killer.
For three years I lived under their roof. They slapped me for things she did. They called me ungrateful when I couldn't donate a kidney I'd already lost. They forgot my birthday to throw her a party.
And when I went missing, they didn't look for me. Dad said, "Even if she dies out there, she has no one to blame but herself."
He was right. I did die out there. And he's the one who signed off on what happened next.

I spent two years quietly building something I thought was worth building.
Full recovery support after birth, someone checking in on meals, leave approved the moment you asked for it. I worked out a deal with the best facility in the city and covered the difference myself, out of my own account. Not a cent of company money.
I did it because I'd watched a good employee disappear from the company the year she got pregnant. No announcement. Her desk just cleared out one day.
Then one of them posted about it.
She called it surveillance. A golden cage. The comment section called me a predator. By morning it was trending.
Here's what none of them knew: not a single dollar of that program belonged to the company.
So I listened to what they wanted and gave them exactly that.
I shut the whole thing down.

Our ceremony was ambushed underground. One exit. Corvin was the only one who could move fast enough to carry someone out.
In my last life, he chose me — and left Niamh behind. She didn't make it. He spent five years after that making sure I understood what that meant. Every day I woke up was a day she couldn't. When I finally ran out of ways to leave quietly, I chose a window that faced east and walked into it.
Now I'm back. Same corridor, same chaos, same choice.
This time, I said: "Take Niamh."
The way his shoulders came down — like something he'd been holding for years, finally put down — told me everything five years together never did.
He promised to come back. He was already moving when he said it.
I knew I had to get out myself. But the ferals who'd killed Niamh last time found my corridor before I made it to the stairs.

Our plane went down on a deserted island. The boat fit two. My fiancé Callum was the only one who could drive it.
In my last life, he chose me — and left his childhood sweetheart Vesper behind. She didn't survive. He spent five years making sure I knew it was my fault. Every day I breathed was a day she couldn't. When I held a knife to my throat to get a divorce, he drove us both into the sea.
Now I'm back. Same island, same wreckage, same choice.
This life, I said: "Take Vesper."
The relief on his face — the way his whole body unclenched — told me everything five years of marriage never did.
He promised he'd come back for me. He didn't look back once.
I knew I had to save myself. But the bear — the same one that ate Vesper in my last life — reached the crash site before I could move.

Our team lost four games in a row. And somehow, that became my fault.
Team captain Reid stood in the locker room and told everyone I'd been giving performance enhancers to my ex on the rival team — that I had a problem with athletes, that I couldn't control myself. The guys laughed. Nobody stopped him.
I went to my supervisor Paige for help. She told me Reid noticing me at all was something I should be grateful for. That the way I dressed was basically asking for it.
Then the university president called me in and made things very clear: push this any further, and my academic future disappears.
Every single person with authority had already chosen a side.
So I climbed the stairs to Paige's office, hand raised to knock —
And stopped.
Because I could hear her through the door, clearly touching herself — whispering Reid's name.

Someone posted a love confession to me on the campus board the same week I got nominated for the Outstanding Thesis Award. By that evening, my roommate's boyfriend had already commented—claiming I'd slept with our professor and faked my entire thesis.
My roommate swore she'd handle it.
She didn't.
A used condom appeared at my lab bench. Photos of a woman leaving my advisor's building at 2 a.m. went viral. The university pulled my thesis. My professor told me to disappear quietly. My parents drove six hours to slap me and tell me my sister would never.
I lost my degree, my family, and my name. Then I lost my life.
The night I died, I finally saw what I'd missed in those photos—a detail that proved it was never me.
I woke up three weeks before my thesis defense.
I remember everything. And this time, I'm not keeping quiet.