8422 Book(s) Related to marry him the case

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Vanessa thought rock bottom was signing divorce papers with Derek Holland, a man with the emotional depth of a teaspoon. Turns out, rock bottom had a basement, and Ryker Holland was waiting for her down there with a smirk and a plan.

Ryker, Derek's older half-brother (aka the family's dirty little secret), shows up offering Vanessa a deal: help her make her ex-husband, Derek Holland, jealous enough to come crawling back. In exchange, he secures his position as CEO.

But Ryker isn't doing this out of kindness. He is petty and cruel. He would do anything to trample all over Derek, and now he has the perfect weapon. Vanessa, freshly dumped and just desperate enough to play along. And if she happens to enjoy making her ex suffer too? Well, that's just a bonus.

As Vanessa sinks deeper into Ryker's twisted world of fake romance, secrecy and family dysfunction, things start getting real. Because fake love? It's a lot easier to control than real feelings. And Ryker has no idea what to do when the game stops being a game.

Is Vanessa walking into a trap or building one of her own? Either way, the Holland brothers are going down. One's going to break, and the other's going to enjoy every second of it.

_Disclaimer:

This story contains morally complex and flawed characters, who often operate with hidden motives and questionable ethics. Themes explored include emotional manipulation, gaslighting, power imbalance, dual identities, and blurred lines between love, control, and obsession. Certain scenes may be intense or unsettling. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Accepting her fate as a slave, Danica Grimsley, the low born Omega never thought that she had to share her love not with her mate Konrad Winston only but with his enemy as well, Cassius Winston, the king of Lycans. When secrets threatened to spoil her life, Danica needed to choose between revenge and fate. Worst of all, both Alphas wanted not just her body but her soul.

I've married sixteen dead men for a living. My seventeenth husband just opened his eyes.
I was born knowing one thing: the dead can speak one last time — but only to a spouse.
So I marry dead men. Rich families pay me to wed their fresh corpses, carry the last words sealed inside me, and read the testament out before the heirs. Then I burn the marriage certificate, and the marriage ends at the grave. Starting price: six hundred thousand dollars.
This morning, the Crane heir drowned in his own pool. Twenty-eight, obscenely rich, not one word left behind. The family offered five million and a private jet. By my count — my seventeenth husband. By a wide margin, the handsomest.
I said "I do" to a corpse for the seventeenth time. Then I called for his last words.
Silence. Sixteen weddings, sixteen voices. Husband number seventeen had nothing to say.
Because my seventeenth husband just opened his eyes.

I lent my Bugatti to my secret boyfriend for clout. He repaid my trust by gifting my car to a scheming cheerleader, letting her publicly humiliate and frame me. The whole school mocked me as a poor garage keeper’s daughter, unaware I’m the hidden billionaire heiress behind the supercar. Now I’ll destroy his fake rich life and avenge every insult.

"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 barely escaped the Valley of the Dread Dragon, my magic completely drained. A betrothal awaited me in Winterhold. But the moment I arrived, my fiancé Arthur refused to acknowledge who I was. He stood by and watched as his socalled true love Elena stole my wand, scarred my face, and swore to strip me bare and parade me through the streets. He thought he stood above me, blind to exactly whom he was defying — I held his entire family in my power. When my brother Damian arrived, he did not merely rescue me. He gave me the chance to pay back every wound and humiliation I had suffered, one by one.

Ten minutes. That was all the time I had to save my fouryearold son.
Leo hung over sharkinfested open sea, waiting for his father, Mafia Don Dante Moretti.
But Dante never came. He stayed behind to comfort Bianca, the woman he believed had saved his life. He had handed her complete control over the family’s armed forces, cutting off every possible way for me to mount a rescue.
A ghost from the past returned and exposed every buried truth.
Dante crumbled under the weight of his guilt, consumed by regret. He begged for my forgiveness. But by then, my son was all that mattered to me.

The wolf pack sneers at Selena, writing her off as her alpha’s discarded human mate. Her alpha publicly claims she abandoned their family, all while their birth daughter wastes away inside a hound cage. They believe they have her trapped, convinced her humanity is her greatest weakness. No one knows ancient royal blood slumbers beneath her skin. She will pay any price to save her child.

On my anniversary flight to New York, fate sat my cheating husband's mistress right beside me.

Alice spent the entire trip gushing about "her Daniel" while wearing the sapphire ring he'd called "too vulgar" for his wife—me.

"She's so pathetic," Alice laughed, describing how Daniel planned to dump his "clingy" spouse. "Good riddance!"

If only she knew his "pathetic" wife was the billionaire secretly bankrolling his success.

At JFK, Daniel threw money at my feet and told me to disappear.

I smiled, dialed my investment firm, and watched his face crumble.

"Hello, darling. Your sugar mama just quit."

I grew up alongside my next-door neighbor, ice hockey prodigy Lachlan, silently paving the way for his future. In my past life, he planned to quit his crucial scout game for his girlfriend Tamsin.
Fearing he would ruin his career, I tipped off his parents to stop him. After graduation, I joined his sports agency and spent three years cleaning up his messes, clinging to the hope that my devotion would eventually win him over.
Yet after Tamsin’s death, he blamed me entirely, shattered my fingers, and drowned me in a frozen lake. Reborn back in high school, I finally woke up. I will no longer stop him from chasing his doomed fate.

I gave Arthur a thousand years. A thousand years to secure his throne as God-King.

And on the day of our engagement ceremony, he announced he was marrying someone else.

In my past life, I bled myself dry for him.

He told me Lilith needed Seraphim blood to live. I believed him. He bound me to the Divine Punishment Pillar and carved open my chest, one cut at a time.

He massacred my entire clan, calling it "treason."

I only learned the truth as I was dying. That pitiful "saint" was a demon from the Abyss all along.

Now that I'm reborn, watching him sit on that throne makes my skin crawl.

I destroy our engagement in front of everyone and take the entire Seraphim clan with me.

This time, I'm only here to watch him destroy himself.

Connor Mitchell and I are the golden couple of our industry. Everyone sees him as the devoted husband, always bringing me soup when I work late into the night.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, he gave me an expensive diamond necklace and posted something sweet on Instagram. The comments were all variations of the same thing: jealousy.

I used to believe it too.

Until I cut my trip to Europe short and got into that SUV. The passenger seat was set at the wrong angle, too far forward for my height. A contact lens case fell out of the sun visor, and neither of us wears contacts.

When I had my cousin pull the dashcam footage and saw him with his arm around some petite girl getting into the car, the truth hit me. My attentive husband, the one who called me every night I was away, had been using my connections and resources to play successful mentor to a twenty-two-year-old intern.

The irony is, he thinks he's gotten away with it. He has no idea I can see right through every move he makes.

Once rot sets into a perfect marriage, no amount of perfume can hide the stench.

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.

In a quiet and isolated village deep in the mountains, Castian, longs for something beyond the peaceful routine of Liang. Surrounded by natural beauty and the safety of family life, he finds himself torn between his love for the land and a burning desire to explore the unknown world beyond the hills. When a mysterious traveler arrives in the village, bringing stories of adventures and dangers, Castian is faced with the possibility of a destiny far greater than he ever imagined. As the young man confronts his doubts and desires, he discovers that the mountains surrounding him hold not only secrets about his past but also his future. With the support of his family and friends, Castian must decide whether he will be content to live a life of tranquility or have the courage to follow his heart in search of adventures.

In the delivery room, my husband Ronan fumed that having a male doctor was a disgrace. My mother-in-law Coralie griped about the hospital bill. His sister Ophelia clung to his arm, pinching her nose and mocking the smell of the room.
In my previous life, today was the day the doctor ordered an extra blood test due to my in-laws' history of blood disorders. Two Type-O parents had somehow produced a Type-B daughter.
Coralie pointed at my nose, calling me a whore. Ophelia fueled the fire, sneering, "Just admit it, Sabine." Ronan slapped me off the delivery bed, demanding the name of my "lover."
I died having no way to prove my innocence, losing both my life and my daughter, Sorrel.
It wasn't until moments before my death, when I pushed open the master bedroom door, that I finally understood: the two people tangled naked in my marital bed were my husband and his own sister.
I opened my eyes. I was back to the morning after giving birth to my daughter.

I straighten up after three back-to-back all-nighters, my stomach aching so badly I can barely stand up straight. At one in the morning, I head to the twenty-four-hour diner below my studio for a bowl of soup, just to keep myself going.

Steam rises off the bowl, and when I look up, my blood goes cold.

Beckett Wexford, my husband, head of the Wexford Group and a man with a serious germ phobia, sits right there, completely out of place in this greasy late-night diner.

He patiently picks the onions out of her burger, one piece at a time, while the girl next to him laughs, bright and carefree, her profile eerily close to what mine looked like at twenty.

"Beckett, you're so bad at this. It's just an onion."

The man who's been ice cold to me for years has a look in his eyes I've never seen before, soft, doting, like she's something precious to him.

"Hold on, almost done."

Eight years of marriage, and I turned myself into some neurotic housekeeper. Turns out all that tenderness was just going somewhere else.

I pull out my phone and open the divorce agreement I drafted a while ago.

Eight years. It's time to get myself out of this.

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

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

One month before my wedding, I was trying on the wedding dress I'd designed myself when a message from a friend popped up: [Diana, get over here! Your fiancé just lost at Truth or Dare and has to kiss your rival.]

Just imagine a woman with three hot boyfriends who want to fk each other as much as they want to fuk her. Yup, that's literally the book.... well, also with an obsessed stalker who wants her men gone so he would keep her for himself.
"If you want them, Myla—if you need what I can't give you, I won't stop you." Hayden's voice dropped, raw and quiet.
"You're my wife," he said. "But you're also a woman. And I'd rather see you touched by hands that I know love you, than watch you slowly wither waiting for something I may never give again."
When Myla's husband can't give her what he used to after he got paralyzed in an accident, he offers her something else instead: his two best friends, who also happen to be his old lovers. Now she's tangled in a world of blindfolds, whispered orders, and three men who can't stop touching her… or each other. But passion this dangerous comes with a cost. Especially when an obsessed stalker is willing to destroy everything to claim her for himself.
Expect: Steamy straight, gay, bi and every kind of sx, Messy threesomes and unapologetic foursomes, Voyeurism (because sometimes it's hotter to just watch), and bm.

"I'm losing you," Rhett growled, his fingers digging possessively into my flesh. "What's so fascinating in that head of yours?"

I looked up at him, taking in the moonlight that carved shadows across his sculpted chest.

"Just imagining," I replied with deliberate provocation.

His eyebrow arched. "Imagining what exactly?"

I ran my fingertips down his chest, enjoying the way his muscles tensed under my touch. "Imagining a man more devoted and skilled than you."

His face darkened, jaw clenching. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

I realized I'd pushed too far and fell silent, giving him a crooked smile before leaning up to kiss him. He responded hungrily, his anger transforming into something more primal.

He lowered his head, mouth replacing fingers as he parted my thighs wider. His tongue traced deliberate patterns, alternating between broad strokes and precise flicks that made my hips buck involuntarily.


When I married the notorious Rhett Hayes, I thought I'd found my forever. Instead, I discovered I was just another conquest in his collection. For two years, I watched him charm other women while keeping me as his wife in name only, my heart breaking with each betrayal.

The day I finally placed divorce papers in his hands, something changed. His eyes—always cold and calculating—suddenly burned with an intensity I'd never seen. "You're the only one I've ever loved," he whispered, his voice raw. "Everything else was a necessary deception. There are people who would hurt you to get to me."

I didn't believe him—until the attack came. As bullets shattered our windows and masked figures stormed our home, I glimpsed the truth behind his lies. Now, trapped between deadly enemies and the man I'm no longer sure I know, I'm discovering that Rhett's dangerous world is far more complex than I imagined, and the depth of his love more profound than I dared hope.

"Stay away from my sons, Ariana. They're dangerous when they want something."
The irony wasn't lost on me. "And you're not?"
His smile was cold. "Oh, I don't lose what I want, Ariana. And right now… I'm trying not to want the wrong thing. Because I always get what I want."
He left me there, trembling and confused.
I managed to avoid everyone for the rest of the day. Took a taxi home, snuck in through the back door, locked myself in my room. Mom knocked around seven. "Honey? Are you okay? You missed dinner."
"I'm fine. Just not hungry."
"Victor's worried about you. He said something happened at school."
Of course he did. "It was nothing. Just a misunderstanding."
She lingered outside my door. "You know you can talk to me, right?"
Could I? Could I tell her that her new husband and his sons all looked at me like I was something to possess?


When my mother walked away from my cheating father and married my professor, I thought our lives were finally settling. I was wrong.
Moving into the Sterling mansion at nineteen threw me into a world I wasn't prepared for: a dangerously charismatic billionaire… and his two equally irresistible sons. Ethan. Luca. Victor Sterling. Three men. One house. And all of them looking at me like I'm something they intend to claim.
At campus, they watch me. At home, they rival for me. Their jealousy is explosive, their obsession merciless, and their desire… completely forbidden.
I should run. I should fight. Instead, I'm caught between men who are meant to protect me, not want me. But the real danger isn't their obsession. It's the secret they're all hiding. Because in the Sterling mansion… I'm not just the new bride's daughter. I'm the prize in a silent war between father and sons. And they'll burn everything, before they let anyone else have me.
This book is for readers 18+

Two thousand years of waiting. Two thousand years of yearning to hold her. He always fails in the end. She dies tragically over and over again every 20 years. Each lifetime, he searches for her. Each lifetime, he tries to save her. Each time in her lifetime, his soul dies, although his body remains immortal. Two thousand twenty years later, she's alive, protected and well, and he's chasing her.

"You still taste like sin," he growled, his lips brushing her ear.

Bonnie's breath hitched as his fingers slid beneath the hem of her silk blouse, grazing the lace beneath.

"Careful, J'onn," she whispered, her hips pressing into his thigh. "The last time you touched me like this, I ended up with more than ruined lipstick."

"Say the word and I'll ruin everything again," he rasped, pinning her against the wall, the heat between them reigniting like gasoline to flame. "Your mouth, your rules, Bonnie. But don't pretend you're not soaking wet just thinking about what I did to you on this desk."

"I don't ache," she lied, lips brushing his. "I plot."

And she wasn't lying.

He took her body. Then he erased her name.

Bonnie Shawn was never meant to fall for her boss. But one reckless night in J'onn Condex's penthouse office-filled with moaned promises, blistering desire, and a diamond ring slipped onto her trembling finger-changed everything.

Or so she thought.

By morning, the headlines weren't about their secret engagement.
They were about his wedding... to another woman.

Fired. Ghosted. Replaced.

He called her a mistake.
Denied ever touching her.
Treated her like a dirty secret swept under his marble floors.

But Bonnie didn't just walk away.
She carried his child.

Five years later, Bonnie is back- fiercer, ruthless, wrapped in power and stilettos. And she's not alone. The little girl beside her has his gray eyes and none of his shame.

Bonnie (smirking): "Remember me now, J'onn?"



J'onn (hoarse): "I never forgot. I tried. God help me, I tried."

Now, the billionaire who once discarded her is about to fall to his knees.
And this time, Bonnie's not just the girl he burned-
She's the flame.

"Baby, I heard making love mid-bungee jump is incredible... wanna try it?"

Evelyn Kendall was a conservative woman. The wildest thing she'd ever done in her life was agree to her husband Sebastian Ashford's idea of outdoor thrills.
But halfway through, Sebastian got a call from his sister-in-law Arianna and abandoned her hanging in mid-air, leaving—his ridiculous excuse being that Arianna had stomach cramps from her period.

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS BOOK IS STRICTLY EROTICA. IT CONTAINS GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT AND IS INTENDED FOR ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 OR EASILY DISTURBED BY MATURE THEMES.


"Oh…" I moaned before I could stop it.
"Sorry…" I whispered steadying myself, but what he said next knocked the breath from me.
"I'm sorry, Sienna. I couldn't hold it anymore." He grabbed me and lifted me onto the nearest freezer. His lips crashed into mine, hot and hungry. My stomach twisted with excitement.
I moaned into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair. Our tongues moved fast, like we were devouring each. I lifted my hips from the freezer, rubbing my soaked pussy against his hard groin. My jumpsuit clung to my body, thin enough to feel everything.
"Sienna…" he groaned. "Please… touch me," I whispered against his mouth.


One night, one forbidden taste. She sucked off a stranger in a dark club, recklessly. What she didn't know? He was her fiancé's father. What he didn't know?
She was his future daughter-in-law. But then they met again, in daylight, around family.
The fire was still there, burning hotter than ever, even though everything around them said "NO" to continue. He knew he was off-limits. She knew she should have run. But when lust turned into obsession, could either of them stop before it destroyed them all?

She was invisible in her own home. Now she's about to become untouchable.

For fourteen years, Queenie Vale has been a prisoner in her own mansion—a servant to the stepmother who stole her inheritance and the stepsister who delights in her pain. Framed for attempted murder and thrown out with nothing but the clothes on her back, Queenie faces an impossible choice: pay fifty thousand dollars in five days or go to prison for a crime she didn't commit.

Enter Jamal Devereaux—billionaire, enigma, and the most dangerous man she's ever met. His offer seems like salvation: a contract marriage that will give her the power to destroy her enemies and reclaim what's rightfully hers. But Jamal has secrets darker than the night, and his own thirst for vengeance runs deeper than she could ever imagine.

What Queenie doesn't know is that she's not just his contract wife—she's his ultimate revenge. Her father destroyed Jamal's family, and now he intends to start his payback with her.

But when enemies circle like vultures and bullets start flying, the line between hate and love becomes dangerously thin. In a world where trust is a luxury and betrayal is a weapon, Queenie must decide: Is the man who saved her life her greatest ally... or her most lethal enemy?

Some fairy tales are written in blood. This is one of them.

Halfway through my wedding, five months pregnant in a custom gown, waiting to say "I do."
A woman stood up and stopped everything.
"I'm so moved seeing you both live in the house I designed." She raised her champagne, smiling like she owned the place. "The architecture, the interiors, the gardens—all mine."
My fiancé Dorian didn't even explain. Just helped her out, left me standing there in front of a hundred guests.
That's when it hit me: I'd been living in his ex-girlfriend's custom-built dream house for three years.
I found the blueprints later. Every page in her handwriting: "S loves morning light," "island height for S," "bathtub sized for two."
Date stamp: March 2019—a year before we met.
I confronted him. He shoved me, impatient.
I fell down the stairs. Lost the baby.
He was in the hospital hallway on his phone: "Don't worry, I'm coming over. We can't let rumors destroy Seraphina's career."
I lay there touching my empty stomach, and something clicked.
I was going to take that house back. Then tear it down myself.
Brick by brick. Smash it all.

Fourteen years I gave him.
Every storm I shielded him from.
Every mess I cleaned up for him.
I made him a king of Manhattan.
On my forty-second birthday, he brought my enemy's daughter to my party.
He forged my medical records.
He tried to strip me of my trust.
He thought I was done.
He forgot one thing: I made him.
And I have a son he never knew existed.

"Priest, I'm requesting to transfer my registry to the Forbidden Lands. And I need the materials to forge a Moonshadow Puppet. In three days, it will stand in my place at the mating altar."

I spoke into the communication rune in my palm.

From the other end, the Moon Priest's voice spiked with warning. "Aria, do you have any idea what you're saying? The Forbidden Lands is an abyss of no return! It's ruled by the Lycans. You don't even have a wolf spirit—walking in there is a death sentence!"

"My decision is final."

After a long beat, his heavy, suppressed sigh echoed through. "Using a puppet substitute is an act of absolute blasphemy against the Moon Goddess... You've waited for Kaelen for so many years. Why walk away now?"

"Because a puppet will never betray a sacred vow."

In my past life, I was shoved into oncoming traffic by my husband's widowed cousin, Isabella.
"Why do you get the perfect husband and the Romano fortune? Go to hell!"
I died, and my unborn child died with me. Up until my last breath, I thought she killed me out of purely manic, bitter jealousy.
When I opened my eyes, I was back at that exact crosswalk, rewound to the second she was about to push me.
Only this time, I stepped aside.
And I finally learned the truth. She wasn't just an envious widow—she was my husband's secret lover. And the one who paid the million-dollar bounty for my murder to steal my mafia empire was the "flawless" man sleeping in my bed.

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

Our engagement has gone unfulfilled for ten years.

My parents saved his family in that yacht accident. With their dying breath, they asked his family to look after me. In return, we go to city hall every year, trying to fulfill this obligation.

Ten attempts. Ten failures.

Elevator malfunctions, food poisoning, home invasions, car crashes... Every single time, I get hurt at the worst possible moment while he walks away without a scratch.

This makes ten. A truck slams into the passenger side, my head smashes against the window, and he's already running across the street, pulling that woman into his arms.

On my way to find him after they stitch me up, I hear his assistant's voice in the hospital corridor:

"Mr. Ashford, the truck driver's been taken care of. Money'll hit his account like we agreed... but is this really fair to Miss Bennett? It's been ten years, every single year—"

William's voice comes out low and tired. "I don't have a choice. Her parents saved me, but I'm in love with Emma."

I look down at the diagnosis. ALS. Late stage.

Turns out I've been trying to marry a lie this whole time.

The night before our engagement party, my fiancé gifted me a million-dollar yacht—with another woman's name carved on the hull.

Not mine. "Serena"—his first love, the one who got away.

Five years of patience. Five years of sacrifice. And this is what I get?

"Stop overreacting," Austin said without a hint of shame. "She's severely depressed. I'm just trying to comfort her."

Comfort her? What about me?

When Serena tried on what should've been my wedding dress, when Austin demanded I "be the bigger person" yet again—I finally snapped.

I threw the engagement ring. It cracked against his face.

Austin's hand shot up in fury.

The door exploded open.

Julian Cross—New York's most dangerous billionaire—stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a storm.

"You dare lay a hand on my woman?"

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

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.

Six weeks after his girlfriend had twins, my husband got himself fixed. He billed it to my insurance.
Then he spent nine years driving me to fertility clinics. Two surgeries. Four rounds of shots. He held my hand every time and told me next time.
The whole town said it was my fault. His mother asked me every Sunday if there was any news.
I died at forty-four. Three days before the end I couldn't open my eyes, but I could hear them over my bed. The girl I bought a purple bicycle for called him Dad.
Then I opened my eyes and I was thirty-four again, on a gurney, waiting for them to open me up one more time.
Last time I lay back down and let them do it. I did it three more times after that.
This time he's paying me back for all nine years, one line at a time.
The nurse asked me to confirm my date of birth. I did. Then I told her I wasn't doing it.

In my last life, I was the one who stopped it.
The second I recognized what was in that cup—a cold medicine loaded with compounds that end any pilot's career on contact with a drug screening—I knocked it out of Ivy's hands. Reid shoved me so hard I hit the coffee table. He got his four stripes anyway. Then he publicly destroyed my reputation, stood by while his fans harassed me off the internet, and smiled when I was pushed down a flight of stairs.
I died knowing he never looked back.
This time, I come back as myself: senior aviation medical officer, five years into a relationship with a man I now see clearly. When Ivy holds out that same cup with that same bright smile, I already know exactly what's in it.
I take a step back.
"Drink it while it's hot," I tell him. "Don't leave a drop."
I spent one lifetime being everyone's safety net. Not this time.

They kept me shackled before the Gates of the Abyss, force-feeding me toxic sludge and draining my final drop of blood, all to maintain their hypocritical "order." They called me the "Ultimate Anchor," unaware that the moment a watchdog decides it’s done playing the dog, the beast in the cage finally wakes up. From the very second I seized the laws of physics, this entire headquarters of the Defense Bureau became my private mausoleum. Your high-and-mighty Director? He’s currently kneeling in my cycle, begging for the sweet release of death. As for that Void Rift that makes the world tremble? Sorry, I just ate it for dinner.

A story of Asagi Mikumi being transported to another fantasy world with the floating Kingdom that she bought in her idle game.

She was transported due to a message from the system and when she agreed to it she was transported in another world as her game avatar Asagi, now she is the owner of her own bought floating Kingdom and at the same time the queen of the said kingdom.

Follow Asagi on how will she fare in another world with her own floating Kingdom that she bought in her game store for her idle game and her as it's Queen.

She was a Mage. He was Human. There was a Witch Hunt.
She was targeted. He refused to lose her.
They had allies. They had enemies.

In Book 1, follow Coralis Golmar, AKA Blue Thunder, as she discovers some truths about herself while many people seek her out.
As she conciliates two full-time jobs, she tries to hide what she is from the human-kind. Meanwhile, the list of people wanting her dead grew.
As the true enemies bring forth a witch-hunt to eliminate their threats, she finds herself in the middle of a mythical war. Meanwhile, she worries about her human boyfriend.
As tensions among factions rise and culminate, she realizes one thing: if she wants to survive, she needs to be more brutal and deadlier than those wanting her dead.
What will she be willing to do to protect her loved ones?
Trigger warning and disclaimer: While I do not glorify abuse, the topic is mentioned and implied in some passages. Some chapters are violent, and the violence is gory and brutal.

Note: I've got a trilogy planned out, and then some. Book 2 is complete, but not yet published here.

Ryan Kade is the NHL’s ruthless captain, feared on the ice, untouchable off it. When a career-threatening injury forces him into rehab, he’s assigned Lena Morales, the team’s new physiotherapist: calm, brilliant, and completely immune to his charm.

Their attraction is instant and forbidden.

Every touch lingers too long, every session blurs the boundaries between professionalism and desire, and what begins as controlled tension erupts into a covert, addictive affair that has the potential to destroy them both.

As the playoffs approach, contracts are threatened, rumors begin to spread, and Lena may be held responsible for a man's success. When everything falls apart, Ryan must choose between pursuing the woman he loves and protecting his reputation.

A passionate hockey romance that is full of strength, temptation, and a love that won't go away.

“I hate Samuel Brown! I refuse to be his surrogate!”
I shouted at my adoptive mother, my voice filled with fury. As an orphan, I endured abuse from my adoptive parents and was constantly mocked by the pack.
At nineteen, I became an omega without a wolf, forced into the role of a surrogate for a cruel Alpha who bullies me. I often dream of escaping this tragic fate, but as a wolf-less omega, survival outside the pack seems impossible.
One day, a prank leads me to accidentally crash a banquet. There, I encounter the powerful and ruthless Alpha King and discover that I am his destined mate, the future Luna!
When the Alpha King asks if I want to leave with him, I eagerly agree, seizing the opportunity to escape my adoptive parents. But the Alpha King already has a close companion—will she accept my presence? How will I navigate the challenges that lie ahead?
Read the book, 3 chapters daily.

I came to Northveil Academy with no magic, no reputation, and no intention of begging anyone to see my worth.

Rhydan Valecrest, Northveil Academy's untouchable hockey captain, Dragon Alpha, and heir to the most feared bloodline, looked at me once and decided I was nobody.

He was wrong.

The magic sleeping inside me isn't ordinary.

I'm a witch.

A tamer.

And somehow, I'm the only person who can calm the monster living inside him.

His wolf bows to my touch. His dragon answers my voice.

The more he fights our bond, the closer his wolf and dragon come to consuming him. If I walk away, he'll lose control of the power he was born to command.

He dismissed me when I meant nothing to him. Now I'm the only one standing between him and the monster inside.

Some mistakes can't be undone.

A Dark Academy Fantasy Romance.

I slipped under his arms, seeking a safe place to breathe. I noticed a playful smile on his lips, but I chose to ignore it.
"Will the transformation hurt?" I lowered my gaze and whispered.
"First, your bones start to break, throwing you to the ground." His eyes were closed. "Then, thick fur will grow all over your body. The limb stretching, I find that the most exciting part of the pain." The Alpha teased with a flick of his tongue before continuing. "Next comes the shortening of the snout and the development of sharp claws and fangs."
"Will I become irrational?" I covered my mouth, trying to control the lump that had formed in my throat. "How do you control it?"
Laughing, he had already reached me and pulled me closer, digging his claws not too deeply into my hip, causing a pain-filled groan.
"It takes strength, training, and having the goddess on your side, human..." He withdrew his claws, leaving just one long one, and returned to my chin, scratching it and collecting a drop of blood. He licked it and smiled. "Don't worry, I'll be here throughout your trial..."
"To ensure that I die?" With tears in my eyes, I took a few more steps towards his dangerous game, realizing that his breath was a little heavier.
"You remind me a lot of her." He murmured, pressing his forehead against mine. "To ensure that your transformation doesn't spiral out of control and to witness the deity's choice." With more pressure on my forehead, he forced me to take a few painful steps back.