122 Book(s) Related to madre cap 3

I’d worked at my husband’s company for three years, only to be fired by him right when a promotion was within my reach.
It was all because I’d been swamped with overtime work one day and neglected the cat he’d given me.
When I came home that night and found the cat food hadn’t been refilled like usual, my husband, who had always treated me with tenderness, flew into a rage for the first time.
“If you can’t even take proper care of a cat, then don’t come to work at all. Stay home and raise it full-time.”
I parted my lips to explain myself, tears clouding my eyes, but he wouldn’t listen to a single word I said. The very next day, he instructed the HR department to dismiss me from the company.

It had only been seventeen minutes since my wife passed away. My daughter was sobbing on the phone.

"Dad, they're trying to drive me out."

I stared at the medical report in the doctor's hand.

The first natural antibody carrier.Toxin levels in the blood: zero.

The same poison that killed my wife, that killed my six-year-old son…had left me completely unharmed.

The doctor lowered his voice."Mr. Miller, you have to stay. They're sending people to pick you up."

I let out a cold laugh.

"My daughter is trapped in the basement storage room right now. Is anyone here going to help her?"

Silence fell over everyone.

I grabbed the glass water cup from the bedside table.

"Five years ago, they handed me a disciplinary penalty and fired me from the rescue team. Everyone said I was good for nothing."

The cup smashed against the floor.

I picked up the longest shard of broken glass.

"Today, I'll show you all how a useless man saves lives."

At the parents' meeting, the daughter's diary was read aloud: "My father is the Grand Duke of the Night."
The room erupted in laughter.
The mentor, disregarding her daughter's dignity, tore up her diary, while the nouveau riche woman advised me , a liar, to "get out of this neighborhood."
I didn't say anything, I just stood up. Then, their knees were all shattered.

On my wedding night, I discovered the man in my bed wasn't my husband.
It was his twin brother—the one the family had exiled.
In my previous life, I exposed them in a rage.
My cheating husband came back, smashed my head open, and threw me into the ocean to be fed to the sharks.
But this time, reborn with a second chance, I cupped the face of the man in front of me—the face identical to my husband's—and slowly untied my wedding dress.
"Since he personally delivered you to my bed, then from now on... you're the husband."
This time, I'm going to raise up the loyal stand-in, and take everything from that bastard.

As the most cold-blooded and ruthless Mafia don, Twain Hall had doted on me like the apple of his eye for ten years.
But on the very day we were discussing our wedding, the ring his subordinate delivered had another woman's name engraved on it—not mine.
I pretended not to notice and turned to Twain.
"Did they bring the wrong ring? Who's Dorothy? I've never heard of her."
Twain's expression didn't change. He pulled me into his arms with that familiar, indulgent look.
"My people weren't careful. Made a fool of themselves."
"I'll have them exchange it right away. Can't keep my queen waiting."
I smiled. But the moment I turned away, my face went cold. I dialed a number.
"Didn't you say you'd pay any price to marry me? Twain Hall betrayed me. I want his head!"

Five years into my marriage, I took off my Donna necklace at the Rossi family’s New Year’s Eve banquet and Noah still thought I could never leave him.
He stood by the long table with his mistress, Amelia, and said in front of every capo, “Some people will never measure up to her. Not even close.”
I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I just turned and walked away. On my way out, my cousin Lucas, my fixer, handed me a cup of coffee.
Three days later, he brought me two pieces of news.
Amelia was four months pregnant. And Noah was trading family territory to get his bastard child recognized by the family.
“What are you going to do?” Lucas asked.
I stared out the window, thinking about the red lipstick stain on Noah’s shirt. Thinking about the smug look in his eyes when he told me, “I only helped her because I felt sorry for her.”
“Wait,” I said. “Wait until they think they’ve won.”
What Noah didn’t know was I was still holding one last trump card.

In their eyes, my wife Emma—an Ivy League tenured professor in biological sciences—is ruthless, rational, and obsessively clean.
For seven years, even when she washed her hands, she would only ever touch the right-side sink—hers.
Until that night at 3 a.m., when I pulled a strand of sandy-golden short curl—hair that belonged to neither of us—out of my men’s shower loofah.
And around the neck of a pre-med student named Lucas, I saw the antique silver cross my dying father left in my hands.
When I confronted her, my always-icy wife protected the little homewrecker, slapped me across the face, and called me a jealous, controlling chauvinist.
She thought I’d swallow it like a coward.
But she forgot: as a top cardiothoracic chief, the thing I do best is cutting out tumors.

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.

He wandered the world like a lost soul, wanting to die but unable to.
He killed the only girl who had sincerely accepted him, loneliness was his punishment.
He drifted aimlessly, gradually forgetting the taste of food, beginning to savor the beauty of drinking blood,
No longer caring about the disdainful and fearful looks from people, no longer caring about anything at all,
But no matter how hard he tried to forget,
The regret from years ago could never be shaken off, following him like a shadow,
Just when he thought he might go mad from extreme loneliness,
He met a girl,
Her eyes resembled those of the girl in his deep memories,
When she boldly stabbed a silver sword into his chest while on the bed,
He didn't know whether he would fall into hell, or into a river of love...

His words were creating a pool of lust and desire in my scolding core, and I longed for his threats to become reality. I bit back my moan, massaging his tight behind with my hands while he kissed my heated skin.
"How bad is this? For your job?" He groaned, still not making any effort to stop.
"Bad. You're my student." He pulled back, and I thought for a moment he might have come to his senses, but then I felt the tug of my t-shirt up my body. It was so hot, so forbidden, that I just couldn't stop. I wanted it just as badly as he did. I wanted to be naughty.
.
.
.
Jennifer is a Senior Economics student at MU who considers herself to be quite the introvert. So what happens when she meets a handsome tattooed man at the bar, takes him to her bed, and then falls in love? What about when she discovers that he's actually her Art Professor? Follow this forbidden love story between Jen and Joel, two very different people who learn to grow both individually and as a pair.

WARNING! THIS BOOK IS FOR MATURE AUDIENCES AND CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF SEX AND VIOLENCE.

"Exclusive clause. Party B will be unable to participate in sexual affairs of any kind, private or public." He read off, before looking back at me. "You're asking me to never have sex again." "You could still, you know…" I cleared my throat. "Pleasure yourself....................... Alexandra Templeton, or Allie for short, is a twenty-five-year-old heiress to her dad's multi-billion dollar enterprise, and life couldn't be better. She owns all of the latest fashions, only eats at the nicest restaurants, and even gets invited to celebrity parties! She is the princess of But there is one thing she doesn't have: a man. Her old-fashion father demanded she has a husband. A perfect solution! She could pay an attractive man to pretend to be in love with her, and even impregnate her with just a little contract. Will this man accept her contract? Will they fall in love?
This story is for mature audiences and contains graphic depictions of sex and violence.

It would be beyond shameful… I slept with my sister's fiancé on the very day my husband died.
"Tell me, princess." Matt shoves my panties aside, sliding a finger inside, and I gasp. "How long you've been wishing for my dick?"
"Just get this over with. I need to get out of here," I say flatly.
In an instant, he bends me over, forcing my back to arch. He shoves my panties aside roughly, like my words have fueled his rage.
His hand wraps around my neck, squeezing firmly as he slams into me without warning.
"God—!" A loud gasp tears through the room, and I try to fight it but it is too late.
Pain and pleasure explode hot between my legs.
I hate how my walls clench around him—like they want more.
"Greedy cunt." He smacks my ass hard. "Look how it swallows my dick."
He pulls back, then drives into me once more, the wet slap of his hips against my ass echoing through the room.
"I can tell from the way your pussy swallows my dick… so hungry for more."
I shake my head, teeth gritting. "Go to hell—"
"Hmmm." He pauses for just a second before ramming into me again, his rhythm increasing. "I wish I could go to hell, princess… but as it stands, I'm going nowhere but inside this pussy."
"Now tell me how this dick feels inside you," he murmurs.
"Doesn't feel good," I lie, knowing it will rile him up.
But this time, the bait doesn't work.
Matt just laughs.
He slaps my ass twice in quick succession, each smack loud enough to make my eyes water.
Then he starts driving into me faster—brutal, punishing strokes that make my thighs tremble and my knees buckle.
"Beg for it… your sister Daisy begs for it every time I fuck her."
Jealousy fills my chest instantly. "Well, too bad I'm not Daisy. I'm Ashley," I bite back.
"Oh, I know exactly who you are," he says coldly. "Daisy's replacement. Nothing else."
"Just shut up and fuck me." I grit out, rage and jealousy rising in my chest.


At twenty-one, Ashley Knowles is forced into an arranged lavender marriage with the most feared biker president in California.
Twenty-four hours later, she's a widow.
Thrust into the ruthless world of the Sons of Chaos Motorcycle Club, Ashley inherits an empire of oil rigs, ranches, illegal dealings, and blood-soaked power she never wanted. But the club brothers don't bow to outsiders—especially not a girl who knows nothing about their world.
Three dangerous men circle her like wolves:
Matt —her dead sister's fiancé blames Ashley for the death of his fiancée and wants brutal personal revenge. He'll break her body to heal his grief.
Bran —her scarred brother-in-law craves slow, psychological payback for the high-school sin that scarred him forever and ruined his life. He'll take her body piece by piece until there's nothing left.
Ripper —the Vice President, protects her with fierce loyalty no one understands… but his devotion comes with secrets that could destroy them all.
Caught between these three men, Ashley must find a way to protect herself, because the Sons of Chaos don't share.

"Good. I can't wait but what if I want it now?" Prince Dominus teased and Akira lips pressed together. She didn't utter a word.
That earned her a scoff. Then his hand moved, not gently, his fingers brushing down the line of her neck, across her collarbone. She tensed under his touch, her breath quickening as every nerve screamed for her to flee. But she didn't move.
His fingers moved lower, brushing over the fabric of her dress, just very close to her breast. Akira inhaled sharply, not in shock, but in the dull, hollow way she had grown accustomed to his touch.
Leaning closer, his lips moved over her shoulders. She hated that her skin still responded to him; her wolf hated it too. But after seven years, even hatred had lost it's sharpness.
His hand slid up, cupping her breast through the fabric. She flinched- just slightly. He noticed. He always noticed. "You're harder today," he whispered, brushing his thumb slowly over her nipple. "Almost like you missed me."
Akira said nothing. His other hand smoothed over her hip, then gave a sharp, playful smack that made her jerk. A grin tugged at his lips.
"I like when you're quiet," he said. "You're best when you're quiet."
Akira closed her eyes. She could feel the warmth of his cock pressed against her.


The day Akira chose to escape from school and return home to see her family, she met only ashes. After fifteen years of being hidden from the prying eyes of the Grand Alpha King, the one day she finally returns home, everything is gone.
No family. No friends. No hounds.
And worse, she is captured by Prince Dominus. She spends years in slavery, secretly planning her escape. When the opportunity finally comes, she flees. But where is safe from the Alpha King's reach.
Just when she begins to believe her life is taking a better turn, she is abducted again by the very ones who destroyed her past. The ones who exterminated her family. The ones who took her captive.
And now, she discovers an unthinkable truth: she is fated to the Grand Alpha King, the same man who once ordered her family's death, the same one who tried to claim her years ago.
How can she accept being mated to such a monster? Worse still, how can she tell him that his son, Prince Dominus, also desires her?