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"I vow not to love you, but to own you. To keep you chained, even if it means breaking every piece of you until you are mine in body, mind, and soul. I will guard you, not as a husband protects his wife, but as a predator cages his prey, so no one else touches what belongs to me. From this day forward, your freedom dies at this altar. You may run, you may resist, but you will never escape me. And if you try… your corpse will return here.”


I was better off dead than trapped in a marriage with Alpha Darius. His wives always die tragically, and I was meant to be the tenth.

I refused to be next.

So, I cut my hair, bound my chest, and ran. But one mistake ruined everything. I boarded a prison bus carrying violent Alpha heirs to a school built to tame them. By the time I realized, it was too late.

Now I’m locked inside a school where killers roam free. They believe I’m one of them, but if anyone discovers the truth, I’ll be executed on the spot.

My new roommate? Lucian Vale.

The most feared Alpha of them all. Cold. Arrogant. Danger carved into every line of his face. He despises me. And yet… he’s my mate.

Hiding my secret is hard enough. Resisting him might kill me.

But danger doesn’t end at the school gates. Someone is stalking me, whispering that Alpha Darius never gave up his claim. And if Lucian doesn’t destroy me first… Darius will.

How long can I play this deadly game before my disguise shatters, my mate discovers the truth, and the entire school turns against me?

Her daughter lay dying—her only chance at survival resting in a bone marrow transplant from her biological father.
That man, the one Stella Johnson had once loved with all her heart, was nowhere to be found.
While Stella made call after call, hands trembling with desperation, Charles Hart was busy building a crystal castle for the daughter of his beloved white moonlight—lighting up the entire city with fireworks in her honor.
All Stella got in return was a cold, clipped response:
"I'm busy."
And then… silence.
She waited.
And waited.
Until the warmth left her daughter's tiny hand.
He never came.
Cradling the small urn, Stella stepped into the streets—only to be greeted by a cruel spectacle.
Every digital screen on the bustling boulevard played the same scene:
Charles, his white moonlight, and their daughter, smiling under the fireworks as they sang "Happy Birthday," basking in a future built on someone else's grave.
The love Stella once held for Charles didn't just die that night—it was burned to ash.
And from those ashes, something far stronger rose:
Hatred. Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.

“A powerful opener to a series [that] will produce a combination of feisty protagonists and challenging circumstances to thoroughly involve not just young adults, but adult fantasy fans who seek epic stories fueled by powerful friendships and adversaries.”--Midwest Book Review (Diane Donovan) (re A Throne for Sisters)“Morgan Rice's imagination is limitless!”--Books and Movie Reviews (re A Throne for Sisters)From #1 Bestselling fantasy author Morgan Rice comes a new series for middle grade readers—and adults, too! Fans of Harry Potter and Percy Jackson—look no further!In THE ORB OF KANDRA: OLIVER BLUE AND THE SCHOOL FOR SEERS (BOOK TWO), 11 year old Oliver Blue is back in the present day, racing to save Armando before his destined moment to die.But when Oliver learns that the sacred Orb of Kandra has been stolen, he knows it is up to him—and him alone—to save the school. And the only way is to travel back in time, to the England of 1690s, and to save one very important person: Sir Isaac Newton.The Obsidian School, meanwhile, has powerful seers of its own, and all are bent on Oliver’s destruction. And when they enlist and transform Oliver’s bully brother, Chris, it may just mean a fight to the death.An uplifting fantasy, THE ORB OF KANDRA is book #2 in a riveting new series filled with magic, love, humor, heartbreak, tragedy, destiny, and a series of shocking twists. It will make you fall in love with Oliver Blue, and keep you turning pages late into the night.Book #3 in the series (THE OBSIDIANS) is now also available!“The beginnings of something remarkable are there.” --San Francisco Book Review (re A Quest of Heroes)

At the Jones family’s political marriage gala, the New York mafia’s most public “celebration”, I, Isabella Rossi, who was a bargaining chip, had been Donovan Jones’s wife for five years.
He was the world’s top perfumer, the kind of man who could coax a scent from his fingertips that made people go mad-and yet, to him, I was a flower with no fragrance at all.
Five years of this marriage, and he had never touched me. The villa’s master bedroom was always his alone, while I was nothing but the “Mrs. Jones” in name-a decorative prop trapped in a luxury cage, so insignificant that even the servants dared to look down on me in secret.
When both sets of parents pressured us for a baby, he wrapped an arm around a famous model and sneered,
“A woman raised off a template like you is only good for taking care of a kid, not for sleeping with.”
He left me behind in the bridal suite-with his younger brother.
Then he took his new fling out street-racing.
That same night, a video of him and the model hooking up in a car shot straight to the top of the entertainment headlines.
And I became New York media’s favorite punchline: the “DISCARDED TROPHY WIFE.”
Just when everyone thought I’d spend the night alone, guarding an empty bed,
I crooked a finger at that eight-pack, absurdly good-looking brother-in-law of mine.
Donovan, you’re right-I am pretty suited to “taking care of a kid.”
Just not a baby. A 6'2", baby-faced college boy.

My daughter has been blind since birth. On her eighteenth birthday, she finally received news of a matching cornea donor.
Our whole family was so excited we couldn't sleep that night. My husband and daughter eagerly prepared for the surgery, their hearts filled with hope that she would soon see the light.
But I suddenly slammed my hand on the table and, amidst the family's stunned gazes, proposed a divorce on the spot.
My husband's face turned ashen as he demanded harshly, "You want a divorce just because I'm going through with our daughter's surgery?"
I curled the corner of my mouth and enunciated every word: "That's right. Because you're going through with her surgery—this marriage is over."

In his previous life, Evan risked his life to protect his fiancée and brothers in the apocalypse, only to be pushed off the fortress and fed to zombies. She thought she had obtained the address of the supply warehouse, but he had already been watching her affair with her lover on surveillance cameras.

Thinking she had his Noah's Ark, she was thrown into an empty warehouse on the day the virus broke out, and then sold as a bargaining chip by the mob.

When the zombie horde surged in, his former "white moonlight" and "true love" knelt before the fortress gate, begging him to open it.

Evan coldly uttered: "This time, it's your turn to taste despair."

For three years of marriage, I played the perfect, obedient wife.
I married him only because my family once saved his from bankruptcy, and because I had loved him since college.
I thought time would soften his heart.
Then his ex returned, and everything fell apart.
He threw a welcome party for her himself, called me to the office under the pretense of work, then turned around and dismissed me as an eyesore. The whispers in the company cut into me like needles.
That same day, the hospital called. I was eight weeks pregnant with his child. Before the joy could settle, the word divorce fell lightly from his lips.
I asked for three months, just enough time to leave with what little dignity I had left. He agreed without emotion.
Yet after I moved out, he secretly placed me in a luxury apartment and stationed people to watch me day and night.
When I finally hid my pregnancy and resolved to raise the child alone, ready to confront his scheming ex, he cornered me against the wall, eyes red, voice shaking.
“Who gave you permission to walk away with my child?”

I’m the CEO of a tech company—and the creator of our bionic human project.

Three years ago, my wife was dying after a car crash. She begged me to “save” her with my technology. I said yes.

I poured over a hundred million into R&D and built her a bionic body that could last for decades. I covered every checkup, every calibration, every outrageous repair bill.

What I got back was her contempt, her affair, and her reckless abuse of the body I gave her.

I warned her again and again to protect it. She called it control—and called another man freedom.

She even slammed my head into a coffee table to shield him.

That was the moment I decided: no more repairs, no more payments.

She chose her path. She pays for it.

Exiled to the wasteland by wife and children? No problem, I'll open an arms factory there.
Everything stolen by a rival? No worries, his technology is garbage I discarded seven years ago.
My ex-wife throws me a repairman's business card and demands my knees? Fine, see you at the military academy ceremony tomorrow.
Her son, dressed in his rival's "super armor," goes around showing off, only to be exposed in public by my ten-year-old son: "With a 0.7-second delay, an S-class mutant could kill you three times."
My rival brings his private army to capture me?
My wife leads a regular army, smashing the dome and descending from the sky: "Try touching my husband!"
My rival, cornered, releases the Abyss Mother Beast?
I pilot Zero Mech, one-shotting her.
My ex-wife kneels in the ruins, crying. I don't even glance at her.
Betrayed me? You don't deserve it.

She never saw it coming. After five years of marriage, it took a DNA test to blow everything up.

The son she raised from birth? Her husband's kid with his ex. And somehow, both of them knew the whole time and said nothing.

It gets worse. She overheard her husband's actual plan: wait for the ex to come back, then push her out of the company "nicely" and hand her five million as a goodbye gift.

Five million? She single-handedly kept that company alive, pouring in her own money and connections to clean up his messes. And that's all she's worth?

She was done. She wanted everything back that was hers.

The ungrateful kid? She's over it. The husband chasing his first love? Good riddance.

But the moment she walked away for real, both of them came running back.

"Baby, please. Just give me one more chance."

She didn't even look up.

For ten years, I've been the biggest joke in Eden Fortress—a madman who draws a broken bow eight thousand times a day.
Duke, the plutocrat's heir, even uses me as cannon fodder bait.
But when the Crystalline Tyrant tears through the earth, when S-rank "savior" Duke pisses himself in terror before the monster, at that moment when the entire fortress waits in despair for death—I draw back that broken bow that's been mocked for ten years.

My eyes can see through the essence of all things, my empty bow can shoot down any existence.
From the beast's maw, one arrow obliterates the plutocrat's heir! From within the monster's belly, one arrow defeats the Mountain Tyrant! Above the fortress, one arrow disables all weaponry!

From bottom-tier waste and cannon fodder to the uncrowned king who brings an entire fortress to its knees—I use absolute strength to tell this world: True power never needs anyone's validation!

Once, I was the Golden Dragon Princess, loved by my family and cherished by the man I would have died for. Then one accusation shattered everything. My dragon core was sealed, and I was cast into the frozen abyss to repent for a crime I never committed. Three years later, I died alone beneath the endless snow. My body was brought back on the day he was supposed to marry another woman. He stared at my lifeless face, trembling. “Seraphina… please wake up.”

Beta Malcolm and I were at the Civil Affairs Bureau, ready to register our marriage. We were just waiting to take the final photo when he got a phone call and left.
He abandoned me right there at the marriage registration office, leaving me stuck in an impossible situation.
I called him—no answer.
I messaged him—no reply.
In the end, I had no choice but to call his childhood sweetheart’s number. Beta Malcolm answered.
“Rowena, can you stop being so annoying? Queenie twisted her ankle—I need to take care of her today. Stop calling and waking her up. We’ll reschedule the registration.”
I bit my lip and murmured into the phone,
“This makes it the seventh time we’ve rescheduled.”
“So what? The Civil Affairs Bureau isn’t going anywhere—it’s not like it’s going to disappear!”
My face was blank, but it felt like my heart was being carved open.
A staff member looked at me with pity and asked,
“Alpha Rowena, are we still doing this?”
I gave a small nod.
“Yes. Let’s go through with it.”

Sean Turner kissed his childhood sweetheart, Mia Moore, right in front of me.
He said he married me for benefits, not love.
He even tried to force me to give Mia my heart.
I agreed.
But after the transplant surgery, he regretted it—while I smiled.

"Truly, you're a very beautiful girl. And that's why I see you fit to be my kitchen maid." That was what he had told Iris when he took her to his house for tea.

Iris Welland is broke, heartbroken, and just trying to survive.
She is twenty. In university and running her sick father’s pizza shop.
Then Liam dumps her like he’s afraid of her.
No reason. No truth. Only fear in his eyes.
One night, she gets into a stranger’s car in the rain and he gave her the job of being his kitchen maid.
Big mistake.
Soon, Iris learns the truth.
He and four other powerful men are tied to her in ways none of them fully understand.
One ran at first.
One lives through violence and control.
One sees everything and says little.
One is running out of time.
Many other Alphas are watching and ready to come to town.
Worse, Armari’s father wants something dangerously powerful only Iris can produce.
Loving is no longer trustworthy but temptations overload.
As secrets and danger rise, Iris must choose who to trust and how much of herself she is willing to lose.

Four babies. A billion lies. One mess.

Ares Langford is reckless, spoiled, and dangerously close to losing his billionaire inheritance. One more mistake and his father swears to cut him off for good.

So when a cop pulls him over for speeding, Ares panics and lies. His girlfriend is giving birth, he claims. The officer insists on escorting him to the hospital. Desperate, Ares bribes a random nurse and finds a stranger who just gave birth to quadruplets.

Tessa Monroe is exhausted, broke, and alone with four newborns she never planned to raise by herself. When a cocky rich guy begs her to play pretend for a million dollars, she agrees.

But one lie spirals into a full blown scandal when Ares’ mother storms into the hospital, declares Tessa family, and whisks them all into the billionaire’s world.

Now Ares is stuck playing baby daddy to four kids who aren’t his, pretending to love a woman he barely knows, and fending off his father’s wrath all while the world watches.

What starts as a lie turns into the biggest twist of their lives.
Will love bloom in the chaos or will the truth destroy everything?

A barren land… the deep scar etched into the hearts of the giants.
Once, they were mighty—ruling both the heavens and the earth.
But the war with the angels stripped them of everything.

Now, the Giant King, yearning for the power of the past, plans to ignite another war!
The key lies in the “Four Magical Orbs.”
If they can seize them from the heirs of the angels of the four directions,
victory will be within their grasp.

“Chanpa,” an adopted younger brother of the Giant King, is chosen for this task.
He must infiltrate enemy lands, deceive, steal, and survive.

However, everything takes a wild turn.
Instead of merely seizing the magical orbs,
Chanpa inadvertently captures the hearts of all “four Crown Princes.”

The fate of both worlds hangs by a thread—
resting solely in Chanpa’s heart.

On our first wedding anniversary, I walked into my husband's office and found him having sex with my best friend.

He didn't even apologize. Instead, claiming he was disgusted that I hadn't produced an heir in a year of marriage, he threw divorce papers in my face.

Five years later, I returned to New York with my new husband—Cassian Vitiello, the Godfather of the North American underworld.

Vincent ran into me at the docks. He handed me a business card, offering me a job as a nanny for his mistress's son.

What he didn't know was that the woman he was mocking was now the Donna—the woman the entire East Coast underground feared.

I spent three years chasing the most popular guy on campus, only to be humiliated in front of the entire school.
My foster family treats me like a live-in maid. My biological father wants to drag me back into the gutter. And the loan sharks have made it clear that in three days, I'll be the one paying for my father's debt.
Everyone is waiting to see me fall apart.
What no one knows is that I already dreamed of the worst future waiting for me.

Seven years ago I gave up my inheritance and went door to door with Nolan—a broke director shooting street documentaries—my belly out to here, begging investors to take a chance on him.

Everyone said I'd thrown my life away on him.

Seven years later he's a name everyone knows. And Emily, the first love who walked out when he had nothing, is back in Chicago with her daughter.

That afternoon I came home early and heard him pull five-year-old Ivy into his arms: "You can't ever tell Mom that Daddy and Emily are having a fake wedding."

"But Daddy, Mom will be so sad..."

"Say one word and Daddy won't love you anymore. Got it?"

Her little shoulders shook as she nodded, and nodded.

Out in the hallway, I couldn't even be bothered to cry.

I dialed the number I'd kept blocked for seven years. "Dad—can the family plane still come get me and Ivy?"

Nolan, what you lost wasn't a housewife you could push around. You threw away the only person who ever made you her whole world.

My first love was adopted by our family, and he promised he would always be there for me.
But after my dad passed away in a car accident, I found him with another woman in our bedroom.
He told everyone Caroline was his true love—that he only saw me as a sister—and claimed I was the one who was pestering him.
I was shamed by everyone. The stress gave my mother a stroke, and Caroline even had someone run me over, costing me an eye.
Seven years later, holding flowers, I ran into them outside a convenience store.
Arthur's son looked at me pityingly. "Dad, this lady lost an eye… Is she selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

BLURB

My breath hitched, my chest heaving as Salvatore's finger thrust into my pussy. I clenched my teeth, my fingers squeezing the bedsheets as I shamelessly parted my legs even wider.

“Do you want me to stop?” His voice was a low growl.

“No,” I breathed. “Faster…please,” I moaned loudly.

I knew Salvatore's and my attraction to each other was forbidden; he was the heir to a wealthy family, and I was just a maid in his house. But I have had an attraction to him since I met him and couldn't control it.

We both couldn't.


Lyra Whitman is from a poor home and has faced constant bullying in school. She and her mother finally moved away to a new city, where they her mother works as a maid for the Sinclair's, one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the county.

Lyra cannot help but fall for their son, and she is surprised to see that he feels the same. Knowing the dangers of being together due to their different backgrounds, they are forced to navigate their relationship in secret.

Taken by four mafia men


“Kiss back” he mumbles, and I feel rough hands all over my body giving me tight squeezes as a warning not to piss them off further. So I give in. I begin to move my mouth and open my lips slightly. Jason wastes no time devouring every inch of my mouth with his tongue. Our lips doing the tango, his dominance winning the race.

We break away, breathing hard. Next, Ben turns my head to face him and does the same thing. His kiss is definitely softer but just as controlling. I moan into his mouth as we continue to exchange saliva. He tugs my bottom lip slightly in his teeth as he pulls away. Kai pulls my hair, so I am looking up, his large frame towering over me. He bends down and claims my lips. He was rough and forceful. Charlie followed and was a mix. My lips feel swollen, my face feels all hot and flushed, and my legs feel like rubber. For some murdering psychotic assholes, damn can they kiss.

Aurora has always worked hard. She just wants to live her life. By chance, she met four mafia men Jason, Charlie, Ben and Kai. They are the ultimate dominants in the office, on the streets, and definitely in the bedroom. They always get what they want and THEY SHARE EVERYTHING.

How will Aurora adjust to having not 1 but 4 powerful men showing her the pleasure she only ever dreamed of? What will happen when a mysterious someone shows interest in Aurora and shakes things up for the notorious mafia men? Will Aurora finally submit and acknowledge her deepest desires or will her innocence be forever ruined?

"The clocks stopped at 12:01 AM and a burning sigil carved itself into my spine. That's when they came for me."

Thalira Moonwhisper thought she was ordinary—until her seventeenth birthday, when two men in dark cloaks appeared at her door.

"It's time. You're coming with us."

At Duskmoor Academy, four impossibly beautiful boys claim they've been waiting fifty years for her return.

"You've died four times and each time we failed to save you."

But Thalira doesn't remember dying. She doesn't remember them. Doesn't remember the ancient power inside her that can bend time itself.

Then her twin sister Luna arrives with a desperate warning:

"A serial killer is hunting our pack and he's been watching us since we were children."

The killer knows what Thalira really is. And he's not working alone.

"I've been waiting for you little phoenix. Your father sends his regards."

Four deaths. Four soul-bound boys. One twin she never knew. And an ancient prophecy that says the Moonwhisper sisters will either save the world or watch it burn.

"You're not just a Phoenix Soul Thalira. You're the weapon that ends everything."

Sometimes the person you're destined to save is yourself.

Three years ago, I took an undercover job: pose as a bottom-tier janitor and infiltrate a crime syndicate.

But I didn’t fit. My posture, my stride, the way I watched people—none of it looked like a janitor.

So command made the call: hypnotize me, seal my memories, erase who I was. In three months, someone would come wake me up.

They never did. My handler died, the line went dark, and I stayed buried.

I lost myself and spent three years scrubbing this place from the bottom—where anyone could kick me, spit at me, call me useless.

Until today. A stranger, drenched in blood, was dragged into the hall. He lunged close and whispered one sentence into my ear.

It was the trigger phrase.

The lock in my head snapped open. My name is Jack Reynolds—ex–Marine operative—sent here to bring down the Grey Wolf Alliance.

And everyone who spent three years stepping on my neck is about to learn what that means.

For five years, my marriage was nothing but a lie, a perfect show Aiden staged for the entire family.
I loved him for more than a decade. And for his lover, he threw our five-year-old daughter, Chloe, into the basement to be fed to his Dobermans.
All because Chloe accidentally shattered an antique crystal cup, a so-called love token between Aiden and his precious Sophia.
I dropped to my knees and begged. He looked at me like I was nothing and said Family rules matter more than blood.
When I carried my daughter’s mutilated body out of that basement, fireworks were exploding on the rooftop above, celebrating his grand confession of love to Sophia.
He froze my accounts. And on the day of Chloe’s funeral, he took her to a concert.
I was holding my daughter’s ashes, trapped, desperate, with nowhere left to go when a message from an unknown number appeared. A car was waiting at the side gate. It was Daniel, my childhood friend.
Only after I disappeared with my daughter’s ashes did Aiden finally realize the truth—that the “sweet, innocent” Sophia was the real killer of his own child.

I’m just a blind woman whose sight was stolen by the mist.

And yet, for his ambition to become the Alpha King, I begged my brother Mason to venture deep into the forest and bring back the Moon Goddess’s Mark.

On Christmas, I carried that Mark in one hand and my pregnancy report in the other, my heart practically bursting with joy.

Then I caught my husband tangled up with Rory—the Omega who stayed by my side every day.

What shattered me most was this: my son’s death was never a surgical accident.

It was Andrew who wanted to give the heart of my son, Ethan, to Rory, who was sick with heart disease. He lied and told me those papers were for Ethan’s treatment, and tricked me into signing my name.

He mocked me, saying a blind woman couldn’t survive without him. But he didn’t understand what a mother’s resolve looks like.

I called my ex-fiancé, the strongest Alpha—Henry—the man I betrayed, the man who still waited for me. He became my only salvation. The Moon Goddess’s Mark I never go

One virgin student. Four untouchable professors. A secret that could destroy them all.

Cheska Vega had a simple plan: graduate, stay invisible, and survive. But the campus she calls home is hiding a dark, delicious secret. Now, she is trapped in a high-stakes game of obsession with the four men she was never supposed to touch.

From that moment, Cheska's life becomes a collision course with four men who should be completely off limits. Damian, the brooding stepfather with secrets darker than his eyes. Mateo, the English teacher she's been driving crazy for a year. Oliver, the new principal with a baby and a cheating wife. And Axel, her British tutor with a wicked smile and a hidden past.

Four men. Four secrets. Four reasons she should run.

But Cheska isn't running anymore.

"Evelyn Drake, are you truly set on joining the FBI as an undercover agent?"
The senior officer Garrett stared intently at the elegantly dressed woman before him, his gaze laced with inquiry and faint doubt.
It was his occupational habit, even a special knack, to categorize everyone he met into distinct social ranks—and he was exceptionally good at it, never once misjudging anyone.
In his eyes, Evelyn Drake, with her flawless makeup and platinum-blonde hair all the way down to the roots, was far from cut out to be an agent.
He had seen countless such pampered wealthy wives throwing petty tantrums. Most would make a scene at the front desk, only to be coaxed home meekly by their rich husbands soon after.
If such a delicate lady were admitted into the FBI, he suspected even the Kevlar bulletproof vest alone would chafe her soft skin raw.
Lost in these thoughts, Garrett let out a disdainful chuckle, his tone brimming with scorn. "Are you really sure? You'd give up your lavish lifestyle to become an FBI agent?"
Sensing his contempt, Evelyn took off her expensive wristwatch and slipped it into her handbag, then nodded firmly at him. "I am absolutely certain."

The year the gas swallowed the world, I helped design and build Dome City with my own hands, keeping the last survivors alive.

I thought I was protecting hope.

Then I stumbled onto the Council’s secret: the poison outside is fading—but they chose to hide it. Worse, they plan to manufacture and release more gas, locking everyone inside forever, under their rule.

Before I could expose the truth, the person I trusted most struck me from behind.

My girlfriend—Vera Walker.

She took my evidence, stripped my access, and traded me for a higher rank.

When I woke up, I was outside the Dome in toxic fog—my identity erased, my lungs burning, my vision slipping.

They dumped me like trash, certain I wouldn’t last the night.

They forgot one thing.

Dome City is my blueprint, my welds, my pipes—my work.

And I’m back.

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

After ten years of being a "consumable," I performed my final maintenance on the very day Vivian handed my life's work over to someone else. I didn’t argue or resist; I just signed the paperwork with a smile. When the Thorne Tower began to collapse floor by floor due to my final permission error, she finally realized that all the brilliance she boasted of was nothing more than the residual warmth I had fed her. Now, she kneels in the ruins, begging me to turn back time. I only find her voice… annoying.

I suddenly awakened the ability to read minds. But I heard my fiancé, Joey Jones, mocking me in his mind: He had already arranged for an assassin to “send me off” at our wedding in the church. What was even more disgusting was that he promised I would become the Donna of the Jones family, but in his heart, he was fixated on his stepmother, Rory—his father’s widow, who was only a few years older than him.
With only three days left until the wedding, I no longer cried or begged for love. Instead, I contacted my first love, Nate, who was a police officer: “How about being the male lead at my wedding?”

In a world overrun by zombies, survivors built a fortress—and my fiancée and I joined its action unit.
To help her secure her position, I turned down leadership’s offer to run my own squad and stayed by her side as the “invisible” second-in-command.

For a full year, I made the tactics, wrote the contingencies, and cleaned up every mission.
She took my plans as her own credit—and let the team treat me like dead weight.

Then, on one operation, she ignored my orders and changed the plan on the fly. Disaster followed.
In the debrief, she blamed everything on me in front of everyone.

I resigned on the spot.

Not long after, I took command of a new squad—and delivered the cleanest record in the entire base.
Her unit couldn’t even finish routine recovery runs.

Until a mandated joint op put our teams at the same rally point—
and she finally realized the “legendary captain” was me.

In our third year of surviving the wasteland, my companions and I finally realized it was all a reality show.

The elites and billionaires on the outside had built a massive dome, tossing us into this irradiated hellhole to be tortured. They broadcasted it globally, watching us drink toxic wastewater and eat mutated meat, treating us like monkeys in a zoo.

The mole in our team knelt in the mud, sobbing, begging me to understand that it was all a script—that as long as I played along, I could live.

Without a second thought, I swung my blade. Right in front of ten million VIP viewers, I chopped off his leg.

"Crappy script," I sneered, kicking aside the severed limbs and blood on the floor. Gripping my machete, I walked toward the real world beyond the heavy gates.

To those who used our lives for entertainment: I'm coming for yours.

As the extreme cold apocalypse arrives, my most trusted protégé conspires with other shareholders to force me from power. Everyone is watching me become a laughingstock.

Just as I reach the brink of desperation and prepare to sign my resignation, countless scrolling comments suddenly cover my vision.

They're frantically displaying information about the future, such as—in three days, the apocalypse will end...

Six years ago, Marlowe Kestrel drowned in the Duskhaven canals, or at least that is what the obituary said, what the empty coffin implied, and what every ruling House in the city has believed ever since.

In reality she swam two streets over, bribed a mortician with a forged signature, and built herself a new, gloriously unremarkable life as a small time magical forger who fixes other people's problems for coin and never, ever asks about bloodlines. It was a good plan.

It worked for six entire years, which is roughly five years and eleven months longer than anyone expected a Kestrel to survive in hiding. Then Jonas, the only man alive who knew her real name, turns up dead in his own workshop with a mark burned into his palm that Marlowe has spent her whole life trying to forget she carries too, and the only lead worth following belongs to Cassian Draven, heir to the most feared criminal House in the city, a man with a smile like a drawn blade and a family reputation built on making problems disappear as thoroughly as Marlowe once did herself.

Cassian recognizes her in under a minute, does not turn her in, and instead offers a deal she has no good reason to accept and every practical reason to take, pose as his fiancée at the season's summit of ruling Houses, help him smoke out whoever is hunting them both, and maybe, if she is very lucky and very careful, walk away with her second fake death arranged before anyone notices the first one was fake too.

The trouble is, the longer she spends pretending to love a Draven, the harder it gets to remember that hating him was ever supposed to be the easy part.

My squadmates falsely accused me of being a vampire. They poured scalding water over me claiming it was "holy water," spiked my meals with garlic extract, and even splashed me with stinking goat blood. In the end, their madness drove them to plunge a sharpened cross straight into my heart...

A wealthy heir was ordered to seduce me, intending to photograph me in compromising positions to destroy my reputation.
At midnight, his hands trembled as he prepared to send the photos, but I coldly exposed his cowardice and ambition.
That night, he deleted all the evidence before my eyes, his gaze filled with complete fanaticism and submission.
Later, he knelt on one knee with a diamond ring, but I poured myself a drink: "I don't need a partner to share power with—I just need an obedient dog."

The End Times Came, and I Awakened the Ability to Grow Vegetables

Every time I catalyzed a vegetable, it drained my stamina and life force.

But my sister Lucy needs to eat, and everyone in the camp needs to eat.

So I gave my life to the soil, exchanging life for food again and again.

Cult leader Silas patted my shoulder and said I was God's gardener, that Eden was born because of me.

I thought I had found a home.

I distributed the vegetables I grew to everyone in the camp.

Until I discovered the blue-green veins on my sister's arm.

Until I discovered that the bottle of "holy water" I fed her every day wasn't medicine at all.

Until I discovered that my sister had been sent to their altar.

I am the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family.
After an unexpected rest, my opponent sent me a street racing invitation.
I went to my brother's company to retrieve my car, but was drugged with ether by my brother's secretary.
She told me that no one could seduce her man.
She kicked my stomach, threatened me with a paper cutter to make a vow, and said her future sister-in-law is the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family—if I dared to retaliate against her, I would die miserably.
I looked at her coldly.
Really?
But I haven't agreed to be your sister-in-law yet!

Lunara Throneborn was born to be queen.

Blessed with hair the color of moonlight and eyes like liquid silver, she carries the ancient bloodline of the Alpha Kings, the rightful ruler of all werewolves. But she has one flaw. She is human. A werewolf without a wolf.

Her parents are ashamed of her. Her twin sister, Aurora Throneborn, blessed with a wolf though weak, is being groomed to steal her throne. They are twins, but Lunara is the eldest. And they look nothing alike.

To hide their embarrassment, or perhaps to mock her, Lunara is sent to Vicjen Royal Academy, the most elite werewolf institution in the world, with her identity concealed. She is ranked at the very bottom. Human. Powerless. Invisible.

But the Moon Goddess does not make mistakes.

Four Cardinal Alphas, blessed warriors destined to protect and claim the true Werewolf Queen, are waiting within the academy’s walls. They do not know who she is. She does not know what she is. But when her dormant power begins to stir, responding to their presence in ways she cannot control, everything changes.

One can read her mind and control her body with a smirk.

The second burns with obsessive fire and will destroy anyone who hurts her.

The third commands wind and lightning with the calm of a king.

The fourth can awaken wolves with a touch. But will he awaken her?

Four alphas. One throne. A queen who does not know her own power with mates who swear their loyalty to a false queen.

At Vicjen Royal Academy, hierarchy is everything. Lunara entered as the lowest. But she will rise. And when she does, the entire werewolf world will kneel.

My body pressed against Raymond's, my kisses stretching from his lips to his chin and throat.

He suddenly rolled over and pinned me underneath him, gripping my chin tightly. "You asked for it!" He growled, grabbing my lips and kissing me furiously.

I let out a playful whistle and trailed my fingers down his chest before deftly undoing his belt.

Raymond's breath was coming in quicker and quicker, his eyes locked on mine. "Damn it, Amelia, I'm going to fuck you"

But I wasn't there to fuck, I was there to torture him. As he lunged at me, I quickly flipped him over and handcuffed him to the table. "Sorry, tonight is my time, not yours."
After that night of madness, I fled in a panic. Five years later, I returned with our child

After Raymond found out about my transgressions, I was convinced I wouldn't live to see the next dawn.

I distanced myself from him, feared him, even considered hurting him.

To my surprise, the aloof heir to the Adams family clasped my hand and pleaded, "Honey, when are you gonna fuck me again?"

I am a hero. The saint's husband.
A country boy chosen by the temple.
I fight, I fight, I fight.
All for the saint, for the temple.
But it wasn't until I was drained of blood and dying on the altar that I finally heard clearly what the saint and her childhood sweetheart were saying:
"If you become a hero and marry the saint, you'll have to surrender your soul to the temple. I don't want you to lose your soul."
"Then let's just find some country boy to be the hero. It won't matter if he dies."
Oh, so that's how it is.
You should have said so earlier.
I can defeat the Demon Lord just fine without the saint.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the wedding ceremony.
This time, someone else should be on the altar.

An S-Rank [Thunder Tyrant]?

I watched coldly as the "good brother" who had betrayed me in my past life strutted around, stealing my woman and humiliating my F-Rank skill.

What he didn't know was that every time he channeled his lightning, his talent was draining his lifespan. In our past life, I was the one who used my skill, [Status Reset], to restore his life force time and time again.

Reborn for another lifetime, I decided I was done playing the saint.

When the crimson behemoth shattered the dome, Brad laughed maniacally, summoning a storm of lightning. But in an instant, the fierce backlash turned his arms into brittle charcoal, shattering in pieces across the ground. I stepped over his rolling, mutilated body and picked up a piece of rusty scrap metal.

"Reset."

The dead rust was eradicated. The scrap metal instantly reverted to a fully charged, high-frequency combat blade.

Gripping the blade in one hand, I faced the overwhelming tide of corpses and carved out a path of blood.