2252 Book(s) Related to tess gerritsen listen to me

He called me his lucky charm. I never knew I would become the price he was willing to pay for.

Wren Kelly was never supposed to belong in Cole Ashford’s world. She was the daughter of a building manager, while he was the heir of a wealthy family and a rising tennis star.

But since childhood, Cole believed she was the secret behind every victory. Until one desperate night, Wren had no choice but to make a deal with him—four years of her life in exchange for the money that could save her mother.

She thought she was selling her freedom.

She never expected that the boy who needed her luck would one day need her heart even more.

She was a beauty queen with history, trying to live a new life in a big city. Little did she know, she is in for a big surprise destined to change her life forever.

He is a king with a longing so soul-deep, craving for the gift he had been waiting for his entire existence. What will he do when he finally finds her? Is he willing to share all his secrets just to be with her?

Romance/Non-human
MATURE CONTENT 18+

A mysterious old man’s visit flips Yvette’s world, transforming her from a chaos magnet into a magic academy student. She thought the trouble was over. She was wrong.

Fumbling into forbidden zones, Encountering a man riding a dragon, and being brutally betrayed by her closest friends, Yvette is now a target—battered, bruised, and caught in endless trouble.

Then, he arrives.

A man so breathtakingly gorgeous he radiates power. He is done hiding. Stepping into the light, he chooses to face St. Daye Academy, vowing to stand by Yvette’s side forever...

Freya's POV

Cold raindrops pelted my face, mixing with the stinging pain on my cheeks. I couldn't tell if it was rain or tears.

The black Bentley's windows blocked out the noise from outside, but they couldn't block the chill radiating from the man in the back seat.

Blake Jenkins held an unlit cigar between his fingers, his eyes as cold as ice.

When his gaze swept over me, there wasn't a trace of warmth—only deep-seated hatred.

"Freya Stewart, remember your place."

His voice was low and hoarse, each word drilling clearly into my ears.

"Starting today, you're no longer the adopted daughter the Jenkins family doted on. Now you're just a nanny, a servant to wait on Lena."

My body trembled violently, my fingers clutching desperately at the hem of my clothes.

I lifted my head, eyes red and rimmed with tears, my voice shaking uncontrollably: "Blake, you went through all this trouble to find me just to make me a nanny for you and Lena Johnson? Why should I? What happened back then..."

"Shut up!" Blake cut me off sharply, crushing the cigar hard into the ashtray.

"You still dare bring up what happened back then? If it weren't for you, how would my parents have died so horribly? I almost didn't survive either! If it weren't for your gambling-addicted father, how would Lena have ended up disabled, stuck in a wheelchair for life!"

"Our meeting was as impossible as two moons sharing the same sky…”
Nyxara has only one goal—to destroy the Blackmoon Royal Family. At Blackwood Academy for Supernaturals, Nyxara awakens powers no one has ever witnessed before. She becomes the first person in history to bond with Ignivar, the legendary Xerax Dragon, while the golden Fire Wolf sealed inside her since birth finally awakens. Her greatest enemy soon becomes her unwanted shadow. Logan Blackmoon—the arrogant Crown Prince of the Werewolf Kingdom—cannot stay away from the fearless girl who dares to challenge him at every turn. Then a mysterious transfer student named Dark arrives at the academy.

Elsie looked forward to the day she would turn eighteen, wanting to find her mate so she could be free from the torment of her stepmother, the ruthless Luna who had taken over her pack after her father’s death.

Things get worse when her stepbrothers, the notorious Alpha triplets return, and they continue to abuse and mistreat her, taking her as their very own plaything. Even still, Elsie believed she had a chance to escape.

But what happens when the mate she had been yearning for all her life turns out to be the step brothers who despise her?

Will Elsie find a way to evade her fate? Or will she succumb to the mate bond?

“Well, now you’re a widow,” he said, smearing the blood of the man I had just married across my face before pulling his hand away. “What a pity. I am going to make you my mistress too",

“And nobody runs from me, mate.”

Four desperate men—Adrian Kane, Liam Cross, Ezra Black, and Damien Hart—receive identical invitations promising unimaginable wealth in just thirty days.
There’s only one condition: survive.

Taken to a secluded estate and cut off from the outside world, they are thrown into a series of escalating challenges where failure is not an option—it’s a death sentence. What begins as a high-stakes competition for money quickly turns into something far more sinister: a controlled experiment designed by a shadowy organization that rewards ruthlessness and punishes hesitation.

Alliances form. Trust shatters. And every decision comes with a cost.

As the days grow darker, the truth becomes clear—this is not a game meant to be beaten. It is a system designed to break them, reshape them, and choose only one survivor.

In the end, only one will walk away.

And survival may be the worst fate of all

“I, Orion Henderson, reject you, Lyra Onyxvale, as my mate and the future Luna of the Crescent Pack. I also reject the bastard in your stomach you claim is my child. I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last woman on earth. And if I truly am the one who impregnated you, may the Moon Goddess strike me dead right here, right now.”

He announced it in front of the whole pack, holding the scarred cursed scroll in his arms.

I looked up, waiting for the thunder that should have struck him down for his lies. He was the father of my child, I knew it. But the Moon Goddess turned her back on me when I needed her most. Nothing happened. And that was enough to make everyone believe I was a whore, trying to pin my pregnancy on the Alpha.

“Since my innocence has been cleared, I hereby sentence you and your unborn child to death by stoning.”


After suffering seventeen years of bullying from her pack, Lyra thought her only salvation would come from finding her mate. But fate was cruel. Her mate turned out to be Orion, the Alpha of the Crescent Pack, and her younger sister’s boyfriend.

When Orion slept with her, she thought it meant the end of his affair. Instead, he abandoned her the next morning. Weeks later, when she discovered she was pregnant, he refused to claim the child. Worse, he framed her and sentenced her to death.

But fate had other plans. Lyra was given a second chance mate… two, in fact. The Valentino brothers. Damien, the ruthless Lycan King who kills for sport, and Damian, the brilliant tech genius with a dangerous past.

Would they be her salvation, or destroy what's left of her heart?

Adrianna is forced to marry a prince, rumoured to be a demon - the son of the devil himself. Her life takes a sad turn when she discovers she is only a tool for revenge.
    What will happen when her guide, Eva, informs her she is the only way to bring back light into Austeria? Follow the love story between Adrianna, a humble Prince with a pure soul - and Rainier, the demon Prince, in their quest to retrieve the lost Kingdom of Austeria.

Skylar Richardson has two rules: don't get caught, and don't let anyone tell her what to do.

By night, she runs with a skater gang, ruling the city's streets with her crew. By day, she's the alpha's daughter—heir to a pack she wants nothing to do with, trapped in a life that feels like a cage.

When Micah Quinn transfers to her school, quiet and unassuming with a camera always around his neck, Skylar sees easy prey. The perfect target to remind everyone who runs this territory.

But Micah isn't afraid of her. He doesn't flinch when her crew corners him. He doesn't beg when one of her gang shoves him. And when he calls the police instead of backing down, Skylar's perfectly hidden double life starts to unravel.

She runs. A car hits her. She wakes up in the hospital—face to face with the boy she tried to bully.

The twist? His mother is the woman her father is planning to marry. Now Micah and his mother are moving into the pack mansion to plan the wedding.

Trapped under the same roof, Skylar and Micah form an uneasy alliance: she'll help him stop the wedding if he keeps her skater identity a secret. But forced proximity is a dangerous game—and somewhere between late-night negotiations and shared secrets, enemies start to feel like something else entirely.

She wanted to destroy him. Now she needs him to survive.

And he's the only one who can keep her from destroying herself.

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.

Dalia Bloodoath has known nothing but rejection. Branded a bad omen as the black wolf of Bloodmoon Pack, she was betrayed by her father, despised by her sister, and left motherless before she could even remember her face.
When her father trades her to the Lycan Kingdom, Dalia expects another prison—until she discovers the truth. The Lycan King himself is her fated mate.
Alaric Muskbane has ruled with steel and silence since the murder of his mother and the loss of the mate he believed he could never replace.
Hardened by grief, he refuses to accept another bond—especially with the daughter of a pack steeped in betrayal. Yet the mark on Dalia’s skin, the fire in her blood, and the prophecy she carries make her impossible to ignore.
But fate is never simple.
Shadows stir in the cursed woods. Rogues gather under a rogue king who seems to be determined to end the werewolf race as we know it.
As past lives unravel through dreams and ancient ruins, Dalia and Alaric must face the truth: they have loved and lost each other before. And if history repeats itself, she may die again–this time with more lives at stake.
Caught between deception and destiny, betrayal and forgiveness, Dalia must choose: surrender to fear, or embrace the power of the black wolf and fight for a love that defies death itself.

When I called my husband with trembling hands, clutching my cancer diagnosis, all I heard was his sweet laughter with his young, hot influencer girlfriend. Ten years of marriage, and when I needed him most, he chose betrayal.

In divorce court, I was painted as the "crazy ex-wife" while the entire internet mocked me. Everyone took their side. No one knew I was fighting for my life.

Until the day he finally learned the truth.

“Smile, Natalie,” Callum whispered before he walked onstage.

So I smiled while he thanked another woman for the crisis plan I had written. I smiled when he pinned my grandmother’s sapphire brooch to her dress. I even smiled when his message came in, canceling our nineteenth appointment at the county clerk’s office.

Then I walked out with our unsigned marriage license papers in my purse and called the one CEO he hated most.

By the time Callum realized I wasn’t waiting anymore, I had already taken my name, my work, and my future back.

In Heaven, there exists an iron law: during the Ascension Ceremony, if a bride fails nine times to complete the bonding flight with her groom's Divine Cloak, her soul is deemed tainted, and she will be cast into the Abyss for seven centuries of penance.
I was once Heaven's greatest warrior, until I threw myself before the hellfire meant for Archangel Gabriel—and lost my wings forever.
I endured eight Ascension ceremonies. Each time, Gabriel found a reason to delay.
Then came the ninth. My last chance. One flight bound to his Divine Cloak, and I would soar again—my name cleared, my honor restored.
But atop the ceremonial tower, he unclasped the cloak from his own shoulders and wrapped it around Irene, the trembling Healing Angel.
"Cecilia, Irene needs this more. You're strong—you'll survive the fall."
He'd forgotten one thing: without wings, this height would kill me.
I didn't beg. I simply met his eyes—and stepped off the edge.
I woke in the arms of the Demon Lord I'd once shown mercy.
He spread ten pairs of wings that blotted out the heavens and carried me back to Heaven as his queen.
And Gabriel—that proud Archangel—knelt at my feet, tears streaming, begging me to look at him just once more.

I gave my Alpha fiancé to my stepsister.

My mother's face lit up. "You're giving Damon to Maya? Don't come crying later, Kira. That man is the most powerful Alpha alive."

I won't. Never again.

Last life, I married him. Suffocated for three years.

He wanted a perfect Luna. I showed up to the full moon gala in a mini skirt. The elite ladies circled in—*"Shameless. Like a bitch in heat."* Damon walked over, draped his jacket over my shoulders.

I thought he was protecting me.

"Must you embarrass me like this?" His voice cut like ice. "Every damn time."

That's when I knew: he loved the perfect Luna. Not me.

Then came the conservative gowns, endless etiquette training, and every time I fought back—*"Pack law, Kira. Obey."*

Until the flames took me, I swore: If I ever got another chance, I would never marry that man.

I woke the night before our engagement and pushed the contract away. "Let Maya be his perfect Luna. I just want my freedom."

But I didn't expect—

When Damon discovered the switch, the cold Alpha completely lost it.

After months of being bullied at school, things got even worse—the bullies said they wanted to come to my house.
Wanted to see what kind of family a "dog" like me came from.
I begged them, sobbing, not to do it.
Because my dad is a serial killer. My mom is a twisted murderer. And my brother is a full-blown psychopath.
If they come to my house, they will die.

Eighty-eight times.
That was how many times I had put on a white dress, or packed my ID, heading to the registry office to marry Harrison Churchill. And eighty-eight times, I ended up in an ambulance.
The first time, it was a street drive-by. A bullet tore through my shoulder just two blocks from City Hall.
The fifteenth time, a car bomb shattered three of my ribs.
The forty-second time, a steel frame plummeted from a construction site, cracking my skull.
......And this time?
The eighty-eighth time. A massive cargo container "accidentally" slipped from a crane at the docks, crushing my car.
Maybe, it’s time to say goodbye.

"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.

The Vane family has carried the vampire's curse for generations. Of every pair of twin sisters born into our bloodline, one will not live to see twenty-five.

Everyone assumed it was my sister — the one always coughing up blood.

Nobody knew that for twenty years, every full moon, the one gritting her teeth through the pain, never making a sound, was me.

The Divine took pity on me and gave me three chances. Win the genuine love of my parents, my brother, or my husband — any one of them — and the curse would lift.

Three chances. Three failures.

The only hope I had left was the baby inside me, seven months along. Bring him into this world, and I'd live.

Then my husband kicked open my hospital room door. My own brother pulled on a surgical gown and picked up a knife. My parents signed the forms outside.

They were going to cut me open, take the last thing keeping me alive, and use it to save my "cursed" sister.

After my life slipped away entirely, the truth came out.

So why is it that the people who sent me to my death are the ones who lost their minds?

I helped Cassian conquer the seven floating cities and claim the Dragon Throne.
On the day he became king, he cast me aside for a lowborn dragon girl.
I exposed her as an Abyss spy, and she killed herself before the court.
Cassian thanked me in public, but he never forgave me for taking her away.
Years later, he accused me of serving the Abyss, slaughtered my entire fire-wing clan, and burned me alive.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at his coronation.
This time, I'm not saving his throne. I'm burning it down.

My billionaire husband handed me a pill and a separation agreement.
"Take this temporary amnesia drug. You'll forget me for a few weeks while I marry Chloe to fulfill her dying wish. Don't worry, I'll give you the antidote later."
He expected me to scream, cry, and beg him to stay. Instead, I swallowed the pill dry and calmly packed my bags.
Day 3: I tossed my heirloom Cartier engagement ring to his mistress without batting an eye.
Day 12: I accidentally witnessed his wedding rehearsal, critiqued his recycled vows with a straight face, and left him standing there, terrified by my absolute indifference.
He thought I was just acting tough. He didn't know I was the neuroscientist who created that drug. There is no antidote. In 21 days, all my love for him will be permanently and irreversibly erased.
But how hard will a man break when he realizes his wife is already on a one-way flight to Switzerland, and she doesn't even remember his name?

On our fifth anniversary, Caspian gifted me a luxury yacht bearing my name. Everyone said I was the luckiest woman alive.
But when I finally conceived his child and prepared to share the news, his mistress sent me photos—him cradling a baby she'd given him, his eyes filled with a tenderness I'd never seen.
Five years of waiting, five years of infertility—all an elaborate lie.
He once whispered in my ear: "Even if every man in the world betrays his wife, I never will. You're my life. Without you, I can't survive."
I quietly packed, left behind my pregnancy report and all the evidence, and drove away. Three hours later, he received the call: my car exploded on the highway. No survivors.
From that day on, the most powerful man in Valen City lost his mind completely.

I saw a post on Reddit, "Urgent! How do I convince my wife to donate bone marrow to my mistress?"

I scoffed and typed back, "What a piece of shit."

Right after I hit send, my husband came home. He grasped my hand, his voice shaky: "You have leukemia... but it's okay, we found a donor."

His right eye twitched—he always did that when he lied.

Then I remembered the worst comment on that post, "Trick your wife into thinking she's the patient."

Life imitating the internet, apparently.

He wanted to harvest my bone marrow for someone else.

When I finally saw his mistress's face, my world fell apart.

I never thought his mistress would be her......

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

They left me to freeze to death in our basement freezer.

The night before prom, my foster sister Leila came crying that I'd burned her Ivy League recommendation letter. My birth parents didn't even listen to one word of explanation—they threw me into that frozen hell in forty-five below.

I beat on that door until my fingers were shredded, screamed until my throat tore apart, but all I could hear from upstairs was their laughter celebrating Leila. Even Justin—the boy I'd loved since we were kids—texted calling me a fucking psycho.

As I drew my last breath, I heard Leila's soft voice outside the door: "Rest in peace, sister."

Now I'm a ghost, watching them lose their minds when the truth comes out.

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.

Last time, I was the first student to walk out of the SAT.
A news crew was waiting by the doors. The camera found my face, and I made one bored little joke — the test was too easy, I'd rather be surfing in Miami. By midnight the clip had two million likes, and my whole life had a price tag on it.
An agency came knocking within the week. My parents signed the contract before I understood what I was signing away, and they pulled me out of school. I stopped being a person and became their product.
And Mia — my best friend, the girl who cried at my locker and braided my hair before exams — Mia copied my notes, rode them into Yale, and smiled into the cameras while she told the internet I'd slept my way through high school.
By the time the agency had wrung me dry, I had nothing left. No school. No name worth defending. Not one person who believed a word out of my mouth.
The night it ended, Mia came up to the roof to "talk." She said she would never forgive me for being the lucky one. Then she put both hands flat on my chest and pushed.
The last thing I saw was her face, smiling down at me over the edge.
Then I blinked — and I was back in the testing room.

"Knock on this door over the noise one more time, and you're dead!"
Calling the cops was useless, and I was too broke to move.
Driven practically insane, I recklessly tore open the black box from the dark web—the seller promised that if I just followed the instructions, it would "eliminate the noise at the source."
Less than half an hour later, the deafening rager upstairs completely stopped.
Three mornings later, a homicide detective pounded furiously on my door.
"The father and son upstairs are dead."

I’m the only princess of the Iron Claw Pack. My Alpha father chose three pure-blooded wolves from the Johnson family to grow up at my side. The man I choose won’t just be my mate—he’ll become the Pack’s next Alpha.
In my last life, I chose the younger twin, David, because he was always gentle and considerate.
But less than a year after our bonding ceremony, he died.
Only when our mate bond stirred again did I learn the truth: David had faked his death—because the one he loved was Emma.
When Rogues attacked, David threw away his life to save me, only to beg that if there were a next life, I would never choose him again.
When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day I had to choose my mate. This time, I grabbed a file at random.
It was David’s twin brother, Nate—my sworn enemy.

Wale never expected the world he built to crumble. One drunken night with his staff, Maya, led to a scandal that forced him into a marriage he never wanted. Behind closed doors, he promised his true love, Kate, “I’ll get rid of her in a year.”
For a year, Maya tried to win Wale’s love, enduring his coldness and distance, but he remained emotionally locked away. Just as he was about to hand her divorce papers, she revealed a shocking secret—she was pregnant. Wale, torn but still set on leaving her, abandoned Maya on the day she went into labor to be with Kate. In a cruel twist, a devastating accident claimed their baby’s life.
Devastated and broken, Maya confronts Wale with a chilling finality, “Congratulations, Mr. Wale. My baby’s gone. I want a divorce. You’ve taken the last reason I had to stay.”
For the first time, Wale feels something he’s never experienced—fear. Fear of losing the woman he dismissed for so long. But now, as Maya walks away, he’s faced with the hardest question of all; is it too late to win back the woman he pushed away? And even if he tries, can Maya ever forgive him for the pain he’s caused?

I thought I was a powerless human in a school full of witches, heirs, and monsters.
Until a black magician tried to kill me.
Until my blood awakened.
Until the boy with phoenix fire knelt bleeding in my arms—and I brought him back from death.
Now everyone wants my secret.
And someone wants me dead.

When the zombie apocalypse hit, my elder brother shoved me into a horde of the undead. Now, I've been reborn exactly five days before the end of the world, and he's trying to scam me out of my winning lottery ticket with a beat-up old ring. What he doesn't know is that this ring is a genuine pocket dimension artifact. He thinks he's pulling the ultimate con, completely unaware that I'm going to use this very relic to forge my own post-apocalyptic empire. This time, I'm going to make them pay back every last thing they owe me.

After being reborn, the first thing my sister and I did was swap our grooms.
In our past life, my gentle sister Elara married Felix Hawthorne, the mafia godfather of Marconi City. Surrounded by a domineering sister-in-law and a scheming, manipulative other woman, she was slowly driven into a corner and died of a broken heart.
Meanwhile, I married the polite, illegitimate son of the Graves family. He was a perfect gentleman, but he just didn't love me. Our marriage lasted three years, and we were separated for two and a half of them.
Then one day, Elara and I woke up at the exact same moment—we had been reborn, back to the very morning we were supposed to sign our marriage agreements...

Six hundred years into our marriage, I found out my husband had a son.

I had ended my border patrol three days early, wanting to surprise Valerius.

Not far away, Valerius was channeling his exclusive magic, teaching a boy how to weave the darkness.

"Dad! I did it!" The boy looked up. His bright eyes were a near-perfect reflection of Valerius's.

My mind instantly went blank.

Dad?

A woman walked over.

She draped a small cloak over the boy's shoulders, her hand brushing against Valerius's chest with practiced familiarity. "Valeri, the wind is picking up. He'll catch a cold now that he's sweating."

Valerius naturally wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "My fault."

The image of them huddled together like a picture-perfect family was an ice-tipped needle driven straight into my eyes.

The sharp sting made my breath hitch in my throat.

The man who had sworn before the Senate to love me for all eternity—the man bound to me by a Soul Blood Pact—had already betrayed me!

A sudden, agonizing cramp seized my lower abdomen.

It was an old wound from six centuries ago.

When the Sunfire Curse nearly reduced Valerius to ashes, I had offered my high-born pure blood and my womb as a sacrifice to forcibly block the hex for him.

The price was permanent infertility, along with an excruciating backlash of pain I had to endure every single month.

Back then, Valerius had held me, his eyes red and tear-filled. "I don't want any children! I would rather lose my seat in the Senate than ever betray you!"

Yet the scene before me crushed those words into fine dust.

I stumbled backward, my chest feeling as though it had been ripped open by bare hands.

I was terrified I'd lose control and rush over to scream at him.

Worse yet, in the face of this cozy, happy family of three, I was afraid I'd look like a pathetic, unwanted outsider.

Suffocation gripped my throat. I turned and fled.

My adopted sister, Cordelia, conspired with her biological mother to harvest my organs alive, yet she had the audacity to claim I paid thugs to rape her.
My biological parents didn't bother to ask for the truth. They cursed me, calling me a vicious bastard, and threatened to break my legs.
My fiancé, Caspian, coldly announced the cancellation of our engagement, declaring he would marry the very murderer who killed me.
I had been dead for exactly three days. No one cared. My body was rotting back in a moldy storage room.
Through it all, my soul was trapped in the manor, forced to witness this absurd farce.
But what they didn't expect was that when they finally learned of my death—
Everyone went completely insane.

Fresh off the operating table after barely surviving a miscarriage, I received a $50,000 bill—every cent spent on a waterbed and aphrodisiac aromatherapy on a yacht.
 
I called my husband, the only other person who knew about that account.

Over the phone, he sounded gentle yet aggrieved: "Honey, how could I afford a luxury yacht? It must be a banking error. You just lost our baby; please rest well. My flight to New York is taking off soon, and I'll be right by your side the moment I get back!"
 
I didn't expose the deafening sounds of the wild party in his background. I simply hung up.
 
He thought his lie was flawless. He had no idea that as the hidden heiress of the Windsor Consortium, that priceless yacht, the Poseidon, was actually a coming-of-age gift from my grandmother.
 
I ripped the IV out of my arm and dialed a number I hadn't called in years since marrying beneath my station.
 
"Grandma, you were right. He doesn't deserve me. I'm going to the ship to catch him red-handed."

I spent seven years being Preston Maddox's personal errand girl.

Did his homework, took his father's belt for him, cut off every friend I had because he said he didn't like me talking to other guys.

I told myself that if I was good enough, patient enough, he'd eventually see me.

Then came the school's centennial gala. In front of everyone, he locked me, a girl with severe aquaphobia, inside a water tank filled to the brim with ice-cold water, so Vanessa Sinclair could have a pretty backdrop for her ballet number.

The audience roared. He watched Vanessa take her bow with this soft, adoring smile on his face. The only time he glanced at me was when he noticed I'd made a mess, and all he did was wrinkle his nose.

The water rose over my head, and something in me finally understood.

To Preston Maddox, I wasn't even worth as much as a dog.

If a dog was drowning, its owner would at least care.

Me? I just disgusted him.

To end two years of a long-distance marriage with my husband, Sutton Brennan, I quit my job and moved halfway across the state to join his top-tier medical center.
But from the moment I clocked in on day one, a nightmare awaited me.
IV pain pumps violently popped open in my hands, medication cabinets rejected my fingerprints, coffee machines sprayed me with boiling water, microwaves exploded in public, and the employee lockers locked me out entirely.
My colleagues laughed at me, calling me a walking disaster. The head nurse publicly berated me for being incompetent. And my husband, the man I trusted most, simply smiled his gentle smile and said, "You're just tense. Give it a few more days."
In my past life, I believed him. I gritted my teeth and held on until the bitter end—and ultimately died inside this very hospital.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my first day of work.

The moment I gave up wasn't when I found out my husband was cheating. It was when I heard my ten-year-old daughter laugh into the phone and say, "Mom's so clueless. She has no idea about Dad and Summer."

Ten years ago, I was a top biomedical researcher, making six figures. I gave it all up for his promotion and our newborn daughter. Ten years later, the perfect marriage I traded my career and youth for turned out to be nothing but an elaborate lie.

He called me his safe haven, then got in our bed with his mistress and discussed how to keep me in the dark.

This time, I'm not going to cry or make a scene. I'm going to quietly gather my evidence and call the lab director I've turned down seven times.

In the seventh year of being a stay-at-home husband, I discovered the son I cherished as the most precious treasure in my life was actually the illegitimate child of my wife and her male best friend.
To conceal the scandal of her infidelity, my CEO wife, worth millions, joined forces with her male best friend in a grand deception. They single-handedly destroyed my artistic career, transforming me into a free nanny raising their illegitimate child.
Upon learning the truth, I didn't lose my composure.
I calmly presented the divorce papers and the paternity test report proving no biological relation, then turned and walked away without looking back.
Later, that ever-lofty wife, the one who had once publicly doused me with ice water for her male best friend, was utterly consumed by regret and fury.
She kicked the scoundrel to the curb. In front of a crowd, she pressed a switchblade to her own throat, casting aside all dignity to kneel on the ground, crying and begging me to look at her just once more.
I didn't even blink. My voice was as cold as ice. "If you want to die, do it outside. Don't ruin my mood for coffee."

“I, alpha Ri Dylan, reject you as my mate, Mona Ryan. I have affairs with many women, Mona. Stronger women who are very different from you, I am not a one-mate kind of guy, and believe me when I say this; this rejection will favor you more than it will me because I am not the wolf you would want to be mated with.”

On her 18th birthday, Omega Mona felt the mate pull and was encouraged by her parents to go and meet her mate for the first time. Upon meeting him in the forest, he was devastated to hear that her mate was alpha Ri Dylan of the Lycan pack, the alpha that most wolves feared and hated. She then ran away and didn't say a word to him because of her surprise and disappointment.

“He's no good to reckon with, he's dangerous, he's not trustworthy, and he's the last person in this world you should have any business with.”
Mona has been warned severally about Ri Dylan. What will she do when finding that the goddess has arranged this big, bad, and dreaded alpha who rejected her to be her fated mate?

"Nathan," the attractive redhead gasped as the man raked his fingers through her long hair, his fingers gripped at her hips while he took her savagely from behind "Fuck me harder," she begged "I want you..."
Red hair, slender figure, and light makeup - these have always been Nathan's demands for Freya, asking her to dye her hair red, telling her to lose weight, and suggesting how to wear her makeup.
Closing the video on her phone, Freya Wilson reread the text on the email to which the footage was attached:
'Before you get married, you should watch this video,'

What would you do if you received the erotic video involving your soon-to-be husband and other women before your wedding?

In a bold move, Freya chose to reject her ex at the wedding and then leave the pack, even though the cost is becoming a rogue.

When Freya was taken in and offered sanctuary by the Highland Pack, thanks to her dear friend Sienna, she believed her life was finally on an upswing.

Little did Freya know that the Alpha of the Pack, Rufus Crimson was her mate. But there is one small issue, her best friend Sienna is the daughter of Freya's fated mate!

Will Rufus accept Freya as his mate, her being the same age as his daughter? Or will they have to reject each other?