3387 Book(s) Related to trapped in my daughters fantasy romance novel

Married to Zane Blackwood, one of the richest billionaires in Europe, Amy has everything she could wish for, a devoted husband, a luxurious life, and an unbreakable love. But underneath the surface of their perfect marriage lies something far more dangerous.
Zane is not just powerful, he is ruthless, possessive, and strongly determined to keep Amy by his side. Yet when pieces of a past she can’t remember begin to surface, she starts having doubts. The passion between them is strong and evident, but so is the unsettling feeling that something isn’t right.
As secrets are revealed and the lines between love and control dissipate , Amy is faced with a difficult choice. Can she tame the ruthless billionaire CEO, or will she lose herself in the process.

I knew three things about him:
He wore a mask.
He never spoke in public.
And he never, ever lost a match.

They call him The Phantom, the undefeated underground wrestling god, No one knows a thing about him except he was a son of a legendary wrestler, I was supposed to stay far away, he ruined my life without him knowing.
I stayed far from him
Until I was forced to be his PR crisis Manager, a man I very well hated, for destroying my family, but that was not enough when i was forced to marry him.
the very same monster, i have been running away from.
But the marriage come with unexpected surprises, things aren’t what they seemed
My husband wants me but he plays dirty. And the deeper I fall into his brutal grip, the more I crave the pain, the power, and the man underneath the mask.
He says I’m his weakness.
But I just might be his downfall.
And in a world where losing isn't an option, loving him could ruin us both

I lost my fertility saving my husband’s life. His reward was a mistress who got pregnant.

Three years ago, I took a poisoning blade meant for my husband Marcus, saving his life and destroying my fertility. The poisoning left me ""damaged goods""—his mistress's favorite term for me. While I struggled with grief over the children we'd never have, Marcus found someone who could give him everything I supposedly couldn't.

When I think back to overhearing his judgment of me, I still can’t stop myself from trembling: “That infertile piece of sh*t.”

My so-called perfect husband.

The betrayal was devastating enough. But Vera, his pregnant twenty-six-year-old trainer, had a talent for twisting the knife.

Look what your husband helped me pick out yesterday, she'd text, sending photos of baby clothes and ultrasounds. He's so excited about becoming a father. His first REAL child.

Sweet dreams, Mrs. Gray. While you're alone in bed, I'll be showing your husband what he's been missing.

Each message was a calculated attack designed to break what remained of my spirit. She'd call during family dinners, text during our rare intimate moments, send photos of Marcus's gifts—jewelry I'd never received, romantic gestures he'd never made for me. The message was clear: I was the expired wife being phased out for the upgraded model.

I cried until I had no tears left. I planned my escape to Paris, signed divorce papers, and prepared my revenge."

I clicked the anonymous link, and my world shattered. There was my perfect fiancé, in a live stream, entangled with the woman who was supposed to be my maid of honor—my best friend.
He was the hero who donated his bone marrow to save my life. Now, he was defiling our future marriage bed in the most vile betrayal. I thought this was their twisted idea of a game, until I dug deeper and uncovered the truth: our "fateful" connection three years ago was nothing but a calculated lie.
My savior, my soulmate, the father of my child... it was all a facade. Now, I've vanished into the night, carrying a secret they know nothing about—his child. Their little show was just the beginning.
My revenge? It's just getting started.

On his deathbed, my husband Marcus confessed he'd swapped our baby with his mistress Chloe's seventeen years ago. Staring at his tearful, repentant face, I barely held back a laugh—I'd uncovered this secret sixteen years prior. I'd quietly swapped my real daughter back, sending his bastard to her cruel biological mother. Seventeen years of patience wasn't weakness, but waiting for the perfect moment. Now he's dying, Chloe's panicking, and my half-lifetime revenge? It's only just starting…

My husband pushed me down the stairs when I was three months pregnant.

I thought it was his bipolar disorder acting up again. The doctors said he couldn't control himself. So I forgave him—just like I'd forgiven the cigarette burns, the broken ribs, and all those nights he choked me unconscious.

Then I lost our baby.

And overheard him on the phone: "The bitch deserved it. If she hadn't stopped me three years ago, Elena would be mine."

That's when I realized—he was never sick. He'd been torturing me on purpose for three years.

Punishing me because I "made him lose" the woman he loved.

So I signed the divorce papers and walked away without looking back.

On the twenty-first night of insomnia, I ordered a beastman at 3 AM.

The ad was ridiculously over-the-top—gentle, considerate, perfect at housework, and could even cure anxiety and insomnia. The girls in the reviews said their lives transformed overnight, work stress just... gone.

I was dead tired, eyes barely staying open. Just glanced at the photo and hit purchase. Golden hair, amber eyes, two cute little fangs when he smiled—looked sweet.

Pink option looked prettier than blue. Done.

I didn't catch the tiny line of text flashing at the bottom: Grade A Product - Adults Only - Full Intimate Services

Three days later, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door to boxes way bigger than I'd expected.

Way bigger.

Last lifetime, my mate, Kael, had faked his own death just to openly sleep with his sister-in-law without judgment.

I screamed until my throat bled, pointing at the man pretending to be his dead twin brother.

For telling the truth, he dragged me to the sacred altar and burned my mark off my skin, while our four-year-old son was thrown into a pitch-black cell for crying out for her father.

We were banished, torn apart by rogues.

But the Moon Goddess is fair. She woke me up on the exact day of the funeral.

As the pack howls in mourning for their "dead" Alpha, I look at the man hiding in his brother's skin.

I won't expose him this time.

If Kael wants to play a dead man just to play house with his whore, I'll make sure he stays dead forever.

My name is Ivy, and I’m 18. My best friend’s father, Sebastian Blackwood, a Harvard law professor, is mature, cold, and authoritative. He’s been the centerpiece of every fantasy I’ve had since puberty.

Those nights, I toss and turn under the covers, imagining his fingers slipping into my wet, hot va*na, imagining his cok thrusting into me hard, driving me to the edge of climax.

I know it’s wrong. He’s off-limits.

But every time he looks at me, those deep, piercing eyes seem to strip away my clothes, staring straight at my most secret places. My heart races out of control, my body burns with heat.

I don’t want to just be his “good girl.”

I want to be claimed by him, completely, destructively.

During this 30-day seaside vacation, I’ll make him see that I’m no longer a little girl.

My body is wet for him, my soul burns for him.

Sebastian, will you resist, or will you pin me down and fu*k me hard?

For as long as I could remember, I had lived under the protection of Casper, Julian, and Rowan.
I took their affection for granted, never expecting that their deep devotion would suddenly curdle into something unrecognizable.
When Elara, a new intern, crashed into our lives, they defended and favored her at every turn. They handed over my hard work on a silver platter, painting me as nothing more than a spoiled, unreasonable princess.
On a night of torrential rain, stranded on the highway and enduring excruciating pain, I begged them for help time and time again. All I received were scoldings and dismissals.
It turned out that their so-called "doing what's best for me" was just a cold war, a calculated cruelty designed to force my head down.
I stopped crying and begging. I signed my resignation letter, returned everything they had ever given me, and agreed to an arranged marriage far away in Italy.
This absurd farce, started by them, would be ended by my own hands.

I’d spent four years slaving away in the hospital basement sorting medical waste.
I thought I’d finally scraped together enough money to pay for my brother Leo’s brain damage treatment.
But he just took the card and tossed it onto the coffee table.
“I got better ages ago. That lousy little paycheck of yours? I blew it on a necklace for Victoria.”
My husband David pushed open the study door. “That story about me going bankrupt and losing my board seat? Total lie. Victoria and I have been together for a year.”
“We planned that whole thing together—sending you down to the basement to pick through trash.”
My parents held out an organ donor agreement in front of me. “That waste disposal job? Victoria got it for you. Her kidney match results came back. You’re the only match. Sign this, and you can still be our daughter.”
Victoria walked in, holding a little boy’s hand. It was Eli—my son, the one I’d thought died in that car crash four years ago.
He stared at me with this cold, disgusted look, like I was a stranger. “Mom, is this ugly lady gonna give you her kidney?”
I pulled the physical exam report I’d gotten a week ago out of my pocket.
Late-stage osteosarcoma. They said I only had ten days left to live.
Counting today,I had three days left.

I loved Lia Rockefeller for ten years, and it cost me everything.
When she said the cheerleaders were ganging up on her, I charged in and took the punches for her.
When she cried that her stepsister would ruin her at Yale, I tore up my acceptance letter right then and there.
When she held me tight in the middle of the night and whispered, "I'm so lucky to have you"—I thought it meant forever.
Three months later, I overheard her laughing in the locker room—laughing at me.
"Ian's like a lapdog. So easy to play. Now that Yale spot's open, Emmett can go with me instead."
The bullying was staged. The tears were fake. Those intimate embraces? Just tools to control me—to keep me loyal while she slept with her side piece.
She thought I'd still take a punch for her, even with a broken nose.
She thought I'd never wake up.
I'm awake now.
In her stepsister Serena's bed.

I'm Nora. Size 18. Transferred to my fourth school in four years. And on my very first day, the hottest guy in class leaned over and told me my seat had a weight limit.
That was Ethan Cross. Lacrosse captain, sharp jaw, zero empathy. He made it his personal mission to remind me I was fat — in the hallway, at lunch, in gym class, wherever he could get a laugh.
Then I found his sketchbook.
He'd left it open in the art room. I should've walked away. I didn't. I turned the page, and there I was — my body, my face, my hands — drawn over and over like he couldn't stop.
None of it was a joke. None of it was ugly.
So what the hell am I supposed to do with that?

Seven years ago, I staged an affair to set him free, letting him believe I'd betrayed him for money. Now he's back—a celebrated music director, weeks away from his engagement—and I'm just the cleaning woman kneeling at his feet.
"You know this cleaning woman?" someone whispered.
"Seven years, and look how far you've fallen," he said, his voice cold as ice.
I kept my head down, tugging my sleeve over the needle marks the chemo had left behind.
He still thinks I cheated for the money.
He has no idea what it actually cost me to give him this life.

This was my 43rd time proposing to Isaac, and once again, he turned me down.
Then I spotted the black lace peeking out from his bag.
"My lab partner's on her period. I bought them for her."
The genius said it without a hint of guilt—even had the nerve to say I was being unreasonable.
We argued, and I stormed out, only to end up in a brutal car accident."
Bleeding on the asphalt, I used my last bit of strength to call him.
His response was ice-cold:
"A crash just thirty minutes after you left? Jane, your act is getting pathetic."
The moment he hung up, something broke—and not just my leg.
Seven years of delusion shattered with it.
When I woke up, I accepted my childhood friend's proposal.

Dumped by her groom publicly, Luna married his uncle—Theodore, a business tycoon.
Hatred? Revenge? Or his long-planning?

Wedding night, he handed over a contract. “Nice doing business with you, my wife.”
When her down-and-out ex begged for a second chance? Luna smirked, swirling wine. “I'm Luna Carter, your new aunt—and the new owner of the Davis's enterprise.”

When billionaire heiress Ruth Keen falls for a gorgeous, supposedly broke college student, she hides her identity and plays the role of an ordinary girl to win his heart. Marriage comes fast, life is sweet, and everything seems perfect — until she discovers her impoverished husband is actually Matthew Lynes, a powerful tycoon who’s been outplaying her from the start.

The Plan: Travel back in time to high school, identify my insanely intimidating future billionaire boss before he gets rich, and suck up to him so hard I secure a six-figure job for life.
The Execution: Perfect. I brought him coffee, cheered at his games, and basically operated as his unpaid teenage executive assistant. He’s totally buying it.
The Problem: I was trying to network my way into the C-suite. I think I just networked my way into his bed.

I’m a top assassin.

Three years ago, on a rainy night, I was being hunted when a stranger took a bullet for me. As he lay dying, he grabbed my hand and begged me to protect his son—and to keep living in his place.

To escape my pursuers and keep that promise, I changed my face, took his identity, and stayed by the boy’s side as his father.

His wife was arrogant, cruel, and constantly cheating. For the child—and to protect my cover—I endured all of it.

Until today.

She drugged me.

When I woke up, a doctor was holding a blade over my chest. They were about to take my heart.

Lying on that operating table, I finally learned the truth: her family had been trafficking organs all along.

That man died three years ago because he discovered it, and she arranged the crash that killed him.

She murdered the man who saved me. Now she wants to kill me too.

She still thinks I’m the same weak doctor who gets out of breath after a short run.

She doesn’t know I’m resistant to anesthesia.

And she definitely doesn’t know these hands have held scalpels—and snapped far too many necks.

Intro: I'm an S-Class superhuman, but I was locked in a basement for five full years, subjected to inhuman abuse and torment. All they wanted was to drain my blood and energy dry. I once believed that if I could just endure it all, I would see my family again. Until my wife Valen's voice came through the intercom and revealed that it was all a lie. I will turn my fury into strength and tear it all apart with my own hands.

A hundred years ago, I was the strongest Delta the Silver Moon Pack had ever produced.

Born with the God Bone, unmatched in power, I had Royal Guard recruiters showing up at my door three times, waiting for me to say yes. The whole pack assumed I'd lead them to glory.

Then came that night. My own family dragged me to the altar in the frozen vault.

My mother cried and said, "Lacey was born broken. Without the God Bone, she'll die."

"You're the older sister. You're strong. You'll survive without it."

I refused.

Grant, my fiancé, pulled the knife on me. Brandon, my brother, pinned down my arms and legs. My parents watched from the shadows, saying nothing.

"Don't be so selfish."

They carved the God Bone out of my body, drained every drop of my heart's blood, and threw me into a vault fifty degrees below zero.

My sister took everything that was mine and became the golden girl everyone adored.

A hundred years passed. I became the Supreme Commander of the Royal Guard.

This year, during recruitment, my adjutant handed me the candidate list. I saw a familiar name and smiled. I picked up my pen and crossed it out.

"Doesn't meet the requirements. Denied."

On the night before my sister's bone marrow transplant, my parents confiscated my EpiPen and locked me in the attic.

Their "genetic consultant" warned them that the medication would contaminate the stem cells meant for my sister.

I had eaten the meal they provided—one secretly laced with lethal traces of nuts.

The resulting anaphylactic swelling was suffocating me completely.

I frantically bashed my head against the door. "My pen... Mom, I can't breathe..."

"Stop putting on a show!" Mom snapped through the wood. "That meal was entirely nut-free! Are you faking an allergic reaction just because you can't stand the thought of your sister finally getting well?"

Her footsteps retreated.

Agonizing pain and oxygen deprivation overtook me as I clawed at the floor until every one of my nails snapped off.

Until my breathing stopped completely.

After she watched her mom die due to negligence from the very people she had worked tirelessly for, her only goal became to watch Vincent Crost crumble.

She did not care who she had to destroy to make that happen.

Twenty years ago, he took the blame for my murder, was branded with the Silver Flame mark, and banished to the wilderness. Twenty years later, I escaped from a prison-like marriage and searched the world for him. He wasn't there in the Alaskan blizzards. He wasn't there in the deep mountains of Romania. Under the polar night in the Arctic Circle, I called his name into the darkness. No one answered. Until a hunter told me: deep in the Yukon, someone had seen a lone wolf with the Silver Flame mark.

My brother and my fiancée forged evidence of my crimes. They claimed I was guilty of corruption, bribery, and betraying the family—that I was a traitor to the nation. If not for their "mercy," they said, I would have already been sentenced to death.

But that wasn't enough. Three years later, when Father lay dying, my brother and fiancée threw me into the Gulf of Mexico, all to eliminate any chance I might have of competing for the family inheritance.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to three years ago—to the moment they framed me for treason...

On the seventh wedding anniversary, I woke up in the lounge and found a big word "BITCH" sprayed with red paint on my chest.
The culprit, holding a spray-paint can, had a naive-looking smile on her face and said, "I'm doing you a favor. Your white outfit's way too boring."
I was just about to take action when my husband rushed in to protect her, frowning and scolding me: "She's just a little girl; she doesn't know any better. Do you have to be so petty?"
At this moment, looking at the man in front of me who had risen because of my family's influence, I suddenly laughed.
He probably forgot who had given him this overwhelming wealth.
I unscrewed the red-tipped thick paint pen and walked step by step towards the trembling girl.
"Your face is boring, too. Let me do you a favor."
As for my husband?
I'll make him know that without me, he's worse than a dog.

Just before my wedding, my fate mate, my Alpha fiancé, Micheal, stripped me of my wedding dress—our wedding dress—and handed it to his mistress, Becky Porter.
Not only that, but he locked me in the dressing room like some rabid wolf he needed to contain.
"Becky has a terminal illness.She just wants to experience being a bride before she dies."
I lunged forward, my wolf howling inside me. Alpha's strength pressed against mine, his dominance forcing my muscles to lock. My claws twitched, itching to break free.
"You bastard!" I snarled, my breath ragged.
Micheal barely blinked. Instead, he let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head .
"She’s dying, and you can’t even show a little compassion?" His tone dripped with disappointment, as if I were the villain here. "You’re only losing a wedding, but Becky… Becky is losing her dreams and her life."

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.

I’m a retired special forces soldier.

Three months ago, my little brother vanished—and every lead went dead.

I tracked the trail to a private rehab clinic on a tropical island. On the surface, it’s wellness and recovery. Underneath, it’s an organ market.

Following the clinic led me to one person—her. She specializes in luring “donors” through the front door.

To avenge my brother, I got close on purpose and let her become my girlfriend.

She thought I was easy money, a body delivered to her table, and she brought me into that clinic herself.

She didn’t know I’d been waiting for this moment for three months.

On the operating table, the needle hovered three centimeters from my skin.

She thought I was finished.

She didn’t know these hands have held a gun—and snapped more than a few necks.

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

While I was being kidnapped, tortured, and murdered in the horse stable of our own family farm, my all-powerful chaebol fiancée was helping my green tea younger brother try on wedding attire.
Before dying, with my broken, blood-stained finger, I dialed the last desperate call for help.
On the other end of the phone, her tone was filled with scorn and impatience: "Vincent, can't you even tolerate a little grievance from your younger brother? Let's just cancel the engagement, and I'll replace you with him as the groom."
Later, I truly died.
My soul drifted in mid-air, watching coldly as the whole family thought I was faking death to make a scene. My older sister even kicked over my disfigured body on the haystack in disgust: "Get up right now, stop pretending to be pitiful here!"
Until the flashlight's beam completely illuminated my ghastly, rigid face, and the shattered phone screen, still stuck on the moment she hung up, clutched tightly in my dead hand...
That forever aloof, arrogant female CEO finally went weak in the knees, kneeling in the foul-smelling, blood-soaked filth, and utterly lost her mind.

The world thought I was a broken man after rotting in the Abyss for five years. Even Moretti, the wealthiest mogul in Cold Harbor, dared to point a finger at my nose and demand I kneel.
He razed my estate, seized my daughter, and humiliated my past on a city-wide livestream.
What he didn’t know was that the moment his infrared scanners locked onto me, I had already initiated the sequence for a dormant orbital satellite that had been sleeping above us for five years.
When the skyscraper turns to ash, the man kneeling before me won’t be that arrogant tycoon—only a trembling corpse.
After all, in this city, I don’t believe in reason. I only believe in retribution.

My life had been a nightmare until one accident changed everything.
One moment, I was the girl Ethan Blake rejected without a second glance.
The next, I woke up inside his body.
Ethan Blake.
Captain of the hockey team. King of the campus. The same guy who told me to stop wasting everyone's time and just die.
Now I wore his face, carried his name, and lived his life.
And I remembered every cruel thing he had done to me.
So I started returning the favor.
I smiled in front of his friends while tearing apart his perfect reputation piece by piece. I turned his world upside down while everyone still believed I was him.
But Ethan wasn't gone.
And he wasn't willing to stay silent.
The more I took from him, the more desperate he became to reclaim his body.
Even if it meant coming back to me—
On his knees.
Begging.

I served as the family's lapdog for ten years, only to discover that my entire family and my fiancée faked their deaths on a yacht, leaving me to pay for their $500 million debt and thirty lives.
Now the family's gangsters have blocked the entire building, the FBI is ready to arrest me, and my fiancée's senator father wants me dead to accompany his daughter to the grave. One trouble after another.
Since that's how it is, then you can all truly go to hell!
I coldly deleted their household registrations and accounts with a sneer.

"Your pussy is dripping for us, begging for us to use it." His deep voice sent shivers down my spine.

"Do you want that, buttercup? Do you want us to give your little cunt what it craves?"

"Y…yes, sir." I breathed


Joanna Clover's hard work through university paid off when she got a secretary job offer to her dream company, Dangote Group of Industries. The company is owned by three mafia heirs, they don't only own a joint business, they are also lovers and had been together since their college days.

They are sexually attracted to one another but they share everything together including women and they change them like clothes. They are known as the world's most dangerous playboys.

They want to share her but will she accept the fact that they fuck each other?

Will she be able to navigate business and pleasure?

She has never been touched by a man before let alone three, all at the same time. Will she oblige?

Is love something that fades away? I used to think not. But here I am, Wendy Knight, stuck in a loveless marriage with a husband who has rekindled an old flame, and a mother-in-law who seems to live to make me miserable. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, I got diagnosed with liver cancer...
Little did I know, a childhood friend had been quietly watching over me all these years. He's drop-dead gorgeous, incredibly wealthy, and powerful, and he showers me with tender, unwavering care. As for my cheating ex-husband? Let him regret and stay out of my life!

Fay is a psychologist and her patient is the most ruthless mafia king. He's in jail.
And he's the father of Fay's ex ?!
One day, he caged Fay against bars and unbuttoned her shirt
Fay tried to push him away but she was wet.
Him："You know, doc. I wanted to do this the first day we met."

On New Year's Eve, I lost both my first love and my virginity.
I never thought that the courage I mustered to put on that sexy lingerie... would eventually be undone by my professor.

When Audrey's bf cheated at the biggest college party,
He called her a boring nerd in front of everyone.
She’s heartbroken and wasted. Then she had a one-night stand with a hot stranger.
The next morning, she shocked to find out that the new professor was the man from last night.
She lowered her head and tried to escape the earth.
Him: “No need to hide, Audrey. I believe we met last night.”

"What's wrong, kitten? Am I getting you riled up?" he asks teasingly. I turn away from him, hoping he won't see how much he's pissing me off. 
He knows I hate that fucking nickname, but he hasn't stopped calling me that since we were little.
"I told you to stop calling me that," I murmur, trying to keep my voice steady.
"And I told you that I would never stop calling you that."
I grind my molars, feeling my frustration rise. "You're such a dick. Why is that my nickname anyway?"
"Because you always have your claws out, but when it's time to scratch and bite, you're practically harmless."
A bitter laugh bubbles out of me as I turn back to him. "Fuck you. I could claw your damn eyes if I wanted to."
"Sure, you can, Kitten," he says again, grinning just to piss me off more. "But just in case those claws don't sink deep enough, keep in mind that you can always call on me, Niko, and Mace if you're in trouble."
Why does he keep saying that? I don't need them, I never have. Not even when my dad was murdered. I never let anyone see me cry and wiped my own tears in private.
Just like Daddy would have wanted from his tough girl. 
"He's right, sweet girl. You can call us if you ever need us," Nikolai adds, emerging from the house and joining us. Mace appears right behind him. 
Oh, great. Here are all three dumbasses. 


TW: ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DARK ROMANCE, DADDY KINK. THERE WILL BE MM, MF, and MFMM sex
At twenty-three, Alyssa Bennett returns to her small hometown, fleeing her abusive husband with their seven-month-old daughter, Zuri. Unable to contact her brother, she reluctantly turns to his asshole best friends for help-despite their history of tormenting her. King, the enforcer of her brother's motorcycle gang, the Crimson Reapers, is intent on breaking her. Nikolai aims to claim her for himself, and Mason, ever the follower, is just glad to be part of the action. As Alyssa navigates the dangerous dynamics of her brother's friends, she must find a way to protect herself and Zuri, all while discovering dark secrets that could change everything.

After a car accident robbed Galvin of his memory, lies twisted him into hating Ellie—the woman he once sacrificed everything to protect.
Tormented and humiliated by him daily, Ellie’s love for Galvin faded completely. He made her sleep like a dog, stripped her before men, and forced her to kneel for his stepsister who stole him from her.
Only when Ellie gave up on love and jumped into the sea did Galvin’s memory return. In the splendid capital, all witnessed a madman desperately searching for his lost wife…

Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother.

"What is wrong with me?

Why does being near him make my skin feel too tight, like I’m wearing a sweater two sizes too small?

It’s just newness, I tell myself firmly.

He’s my boyfirend’s brother.

This is Tyler’s family.

I’m not going to let one cold stare undo that.

**

As a ballet dancer, My life looks perfect—scholarship, starring role, sweet boyfriend Tyler. Until Tyler shows his true colors and his older brother, Asher, comes home.

Asher is a Navy veteran with battle scars and zero patience. He calls me "princess" like it's an insult. I can't stand him.

When My ankle injury forces her to recover at the family lake house, I‘m stuck with both brothers. What starts as mutual hatred slowly turns into something forbidden.

I'm falling for my boyfriend's brother.

**

I hate girls like her.

Entitled.

Delicate.

And still—

Still.

The image of her standing in the doorway, clutching her cardigan tighter around her narrow shoulders, trying to smile through the awkwardness, won’t leave me.

Neither does the memory of Tyler. Leaving her here without a second thought.

I shouldn’t care.

I don’t care.

It’s not my problem if Tyler’s an idiot.

It’s not my business if some spoiled little princess has to walk home in the dark.

I’m not here to rescue anyone.

Especially not her.

Especially not someone like her.

She’s not my problem.

And I’ll make damn sure she never becomes one.

But when my eyes fell on her lips, I wanted her to be mine.

For three years, Stella White loved Alpha heir Liam Sinclair with everything she had.

She endured being called a “defective Omega” and watching her family favor her sister Chloe, because she believed Liam would one day mark her and make her his Luna.

But just as they were about to marry, her parents sold her to a powerful stranger for pack resources.

Stella fought her way out and ran barefoot and bleeding to Liam, only to find him in their future home, taking Chloe in the bed meant for her. Her sister wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning for him to go harder.

Worse, Liam held Chloe close and sneered,

“Stella’s scent disgusts me. She’s nothing but a defective Omega. You’re the one who deserves to be my Luna.”

In one night, Stella lost her family, her love, and her last hope.

Everyone thought she was finished.

But the next day, in front of the entire Sinclair family, Stella made a choice that shocked them all.

She agreed to marry Liam’s uncle—Victor Sinclair.

Once the true Alpha heir, Victor had been reduced to a “ruined Alpha heir” after a poison attack destroyed his sense of smell.

They said Stella was unwanted.

They said Victor was broken.

But Victor took the silver whip for her and promised, “Marry me, and I’ll give you a home.”

From that day on, Stella was no longer Liam’s rejected fiancée.

She was Victor Sinclair’s wife.

The defective Omega they threw away would become the Luna none of them could ever reach.

I woke up three years into a marriage I barely remembered—pregnant with twins that weren't my husband's.

Those words should have destroyed me, but the truth was worse: I'd been used as a broodmare by the man who swore to love me, set up in a hotel room with a stranger because My husband Alexander Cross couldn't father children himself, and now I carried the secret babies of Damon Lester—the most powerful and dangerous Alpha in San Loris—while my own family replaced me with the daughter they'd always wanted. But when that same stranger's doctor appeared at my door, when twenty million dollars exchanged hands over a fake perfume bearing my secret identity, and when Damon's gray eyes locked onto mine with recognition I couldn't afford, I realized my carefully hidden life as the legendary perfumer Vera was colliding with a pregnancy that could cost me everything.

Could I protect my babies from the husband plotting my death, hide my true identity from the Alpha who's been hunting me for years, and reclaim the freedom I'd buried along with my dreams—even if it means standing alone against the wolves who see me as nothing more than a womb to be used and discarded?

One look at the man sitting next to mom tells me everything I need to know.
He is Aaron's dad.
Mom is getting married to Aaron's dad.
I had a one night stand with Aaron Coleman seven years ago and in the heat of the moment, after I left the motel he'd fucked me in, I spent the following week writing a fictional story about us.
I'd entirely forgotten about that story until now. The story went ahead to become a New York bestseller the following year but nobody, besides Juliet, knows I'm the author.
Aaron Coleman is about to be my stepbrother. He's the protagonist of a romance book I'd written and dumped years ago.
And as I move slowly, towards the table to join the small party, I realize that the coming weeks is going to be worse than the past seven years of my life, combined.
SEVEN YEARS AGO
"It's almost like you're a virgin," Aaron blurts out in disbelief as he slowly tries to move.His remark makes me feel defensive so I don't know when I get heated and respond in a sharp voice. "What if I am?"
Aaron stiffens against me, his body hovering above mine.
"That's going to be a problem, cupcake," he says in an entirely different voice that tells me I'm in danger...