3489 Book(s) Related to how to write dialog in a novel

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+

Iris Quinn had a life worth having—until her father’s arrest stripped it all away.
The charges are a lie, orchestrated by the one family she’s always loathed: the Laurents. When Caesar Laurent offers a cold-blooded trade—her hand in marriage for her father's freedom, Iris realizes exactly who she’s dealing with.
The contract arrives before she's finished being angry. Two years minimum. No escape clause.
Caesar doesn't want her heart; he doesn't even pretend to. But he underestimated one thing: Iris Quinn has spent her life refusing to be controlled, and she isn't about to start now.
Caesar is used to winning. Iris is used to surviving. Neither expected the other to be quite this good at the game. She was supposed to be his prisoner—he wasn't supposed to lose sleep over her.

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!"

1

The night before the engagement, Rosaline was tricked by her cousin. She was drunk and sent to a stranger’s room. She broke free from their control, went to the next room through the window, and had a one-night stand with a mysterious man.

She didn't want to have anything to do with him, so she matched wits with him and finally escaped. The man stared at silhouette with a smile: "You will never escape from me."

It was five years later when they met again. Neither of them recognized each other, but she was stopped by him in a dramatic way,
"Sir, anything can I do for you?"
"Yes."
"So, what's the matter?"
"I need a wife." He looked at her, and his lips twitching slightly.
"Sir, I don't quite understand what you mean."
"I needed a wife, and you are just the right one for me."
"What! Why?"
"I don't like women who are too beautiful or too smart."
“...”
"I'll see you at the Bureau House at ten a.m. tomorrow."
“...”
What?Was she proposed by the richest bachelor in this City!

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?

“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.

I remember that frost-covered train door like it was the last thing I ever saw. Because it was.
The escape spot I’d spent three years scraping together? My fiancée was sitting in it, wearing my parka. Her brother had my hiking boots on his feet. Her mother clutched the medical kit I’d carried six miles through ash-covered roads. And Caleb Frost—the ex she’d sworn was just “someone from the past”—stood in the seat that should have been mine, lifting my silver emergency flask in a toast.
While I froze out in the subzero ash storm, my lungs burning like they were filled with shards of broken glass, they turned their backs to me under the warm yellow light inside.
Then I woke up.
The calendar read May 3, 2041. Exactly one year before the Yellowstone chain eruption would turn the northern hemisphere into a frozen grave.
On the TV, experts were still downplaying the volcanic tremors, insisting there was no immediate risk to the public. My fiancée walked into the bedroom wearing one of my white shirts, carrying coffee in the blue mug she’d bought with my card. She reached for my forehead, asking if I’d had a bad dream.
None of them know I’ve already died once.
They’re still plotting how to make me pay for her brother’s failed investments, how to sneak texts to her old boyfriend, how to use me as their most obedient, most useful doormat until the world ends. I’ve sold the downtown office towers, mortgaged the lakefront house, bought the abandoned geothermal station no one wanted in the dead mountains, and signed a stack of engineering contracts they’ll never bother to read.
They still smile and thank me, tell me I’m the best fiancé in the world.
They have no idea who will be holding the key to the door, when the sky goes dark forever and the snow never stops falling.

“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.

We’ve been married for almost a month, yet my Alpha keeps hiding in the study to avoid me.
He would rather give me a cheap vial of synthetic bonding pheromones than bare his fangs at me.
I thought I was just the unwanted substitute for my runaway sister, that he felt absolutely nothing for me.
I slammed the door and left, heading to the Moon Well to confide. But the moment my blood dripped in, the Alpha's voice echoed:
"I finally married her... but I was born with a curse. How do I mark her without hurting her the moment I bite down..."

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.

After the crash, my husband, Darius, lost his ability to speak. The trauma to his cervical spine left him unable to even lift a finger.
The doctors said his only remaining way to communicate was to nod, or to shake his head.
Sitting by his hospital bed, I finally asked the question that had been eating away at me for three months.
"When the crash happened... were you on your way to see your mistress?"
Darius stared dead at me. Then, slowly, he nodded.

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.

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.

"Very entertaining. I highly recommend this book to the permanent library of any reader that appreciates a very well written mystery, with some twists and an intelligent plot. You will not be disappointed. Excellent way to spend a cold weekend!" --Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (regarding Murder in the Manor) BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A KILLER CUPCAKE is the debut novel in a charming and hilarious new cozy mystery series by #1 bestselling author Fiona Grace, whose bestselling Murder in the Manor (A Lacey Doyle Cozy Mystery) has nearly 200 five star reviews. Allison Sweet, 34, a sous chef in Los Angeles, has had it up to here with demeaning customers, her demanding boss, and her failed love life. After a shocking incident, she realizes the time has come to start life fresh and follow her lifelong dream of moving to a small town and opening a bakery of her own. When Allison spots a charming, vacant storefront on the boardwalk near Venice, she wonders if she could really start life anew. Feeling like it’s a sign, and a time to take a chance in life, she goes for it. Yet Allison did not anticipate the wild ride ahead of her: the boardwalk, filled with fun and outrageous characters, is pulsing with life, from the Italian pizzeria owners on either side of her who vie for her affection, to the fortune tellers and scheming rival bakery owner nearby. Allison yearns to just focus on her delicious new pastry recipes and keep her struggling bakery afloat—but when a murder occurs right near her shop, everything changes. Implicated, her entire future at stake, Allison has no choice but to investigate to clear her name. As an orphaned dog wanders into her life, a devoted new sidekick with a knack for solving mysteries, she starts her search. Will they find the killer? And can her struggling bakery survive? A hilarious cozy mystery series, packed with twists, turns, romance, travel, food and unexpected adventure, the BEACHFRONT BAKERY series will keep you laughing and turning pages late into the night as you fall in love with an endearing new character who will capture your heart. Book #2 in the series—A MURDEROUS MACARON—is also available!

The day our company successfully went public.

Gu Yun and I slipped away from the staff to celebrate privately in the office.

Just as he unfastened my camisole, a voice sounded from the phone.

“Do you think Sister Su will still be the Sales Director?”

I froze for a second, then smiled and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

“The company’s announcement was already released—how could there be such a ridiculous guess?”

Gu Yun’s breathing grew heavier as he kissed my lips.

“I forgot to tell you—the announcement’s been retracted.”

“Xu Na said the Sales Director position is quite challenging, and she wants to give it a try.”

Five years ago, my sister vanished the night before her wedding. She left behind a crying newborn in a crib and a mafia heir on the verge of losing control.

And I was forced into her place—the temporary bride, the contract wife, the whispered “replacement” in every gilded hallway.

I thought I only had to survive five years. Five years to earn what I was promised, and then walk away from this city of shadows and blood.

I clawed my way through bullets, politics, and betrayal. I earned respect. I gained power.
And somehow... I tasted a tenderness I was never meant to have.

Now, with only ten days left on our marriage contract, I thought everything was finally under control. I thought freedom and power were within reach.

Until she came back—wrapped in grace, dripping secrets, smiling as if she owned the world she abandoned.

She looked at me and said, “Little sister, give me back my life.”

I was carrying Don Elijah’s child. But on the exact day I went into labor, the man I loved dragged me to an underground freezer—standing at a deadly minus ten degrees Celsius—and locked the heavy metal door.

The reason? The Varro Mafia family’s ironclad rule: the firstborn son inherits the entire empire. His brother’s wife, Elena, was also pregnant, our due dates separated by a single day.

To guarantee his brother’s child secured the throne, Elijah callously snuffed out my hope.

"Elena’s child must be born first," he demanded coldly. "This is what you owe them!"

He ignored the warm rush of my broken water. He ignored my agonizing, tearing contractions. He shoved me into the icy darkness, violently injecting me with a drug specifically designed to halt my labor.

Curled up on the frost-covered concrete, freezing and completely alone, I clutched my stomach in sheer agony. In the suffocating cold, I felt the terrifying stillness. I felt the tiny, fighting heartbeat inside me slowly, torturously fading away.

Hot tears streamed down my face, freezing before they hit the ground.

"My baby..." I whispered into the pitch-black void, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "Mommy is so sorry..."

Elijah sacrificed our child out of blind loyalty to his brother. But when he finally opens that frostbitten door, he won’t merely find a broken woman—he will face the terrifying, irreversible ruin of his own legacy.

36 weeks pregnant, I was thrown into the dungeon by my own husband.

When my water broke, I desperately reached out through the mate bond, calling for him—only to discover that he had severed it with his own hands.

They lashed my swollen belly with leather whips. They injected wolfsbane into my veins. And when my baby's head began to crown, they shoved her back inside me.

All because his sister-in-law Genevieve was also in labor today—and her child had to be born as the pack's heir.

I crawled out of that dungeon, drenched in my own blood, only to find him blocking the doorway.

I knelt at his feet, clutching at his trousers, begging. "The baby is innocent. Please... just let me deliver her..."

He kicked me away in disgust. "Wait until Genevieve is done."

Later, fireworks lit up the sky. The entire pack celebrated the birth of Genevieve's heir.

I was dumped in a water cell, watching my blood slowly turn the ice-cold water crimson, feeling my daughter grow still inside me.

Only after he'd gazed adoringly at the newborn in Genevieve's arms did he finally remember me. He sent someone to fetch me from the dungeon.

But his servant returned white-faced, voice trembling:

"Alpha! The Luna... she and the baby... they're both dead!"

As the heir to the Winsor Pack, I sold off the land my father left behind—just to help him ascend to power.
But on the tenth day of his brother Zane’s funeral, I caught him holding Evelyn, my sister-in-law, whispering:
“She was just an obstacle.”
While “cheap plaything” cards bearing my photo spread like wildfire through every Pack’s group chat,
he was using the tie I gave him to fasten her dress.
He got me drunk, dumped me on the street,
and let unfamiliar Alphas rip my dignity to shreds.
When I crawled home, bloodied and broken,
he cupped my face with a hand that reeked of her perfume and said:
“Stop making a scene. Evelyn is still pregnant—with my brother’s child.”
But the Moon Goddess mark at the back of my neck had already begun to fester in the rot of his lies.
“Tear those chains apart, Stella.”
“You are the Moon’s chosen of the Winsor Pack—
not a sacrifice on an altar built from shame.”

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...

Reborn one year before the zombie outbreak, I awakened a supernatural storage space. I stocked massive daily supplies and transformed a secret mountain cave into an impenetrable fortress. I protect my grandma, take revenge on greedy relatives, fight mutated beasts and intelligent zombie monsters, and wait for the rebirth of human civilization in the end times.

After one painful and humiliating night, Mia was left wondering if Master Reed was just a figure that she dreamed up when she secretly discovered the world of BDSM. Until she collided with him in the conference room at her office building and found out just how real he actually was and he's made it very clear that he is going to be her Master.

Reed bought "Bean Me" with the intention of claiming Mia as his submissive. A dream he'd had ever since the night he had picked her up off the sidewalk at his club "The Dungeon" three years earlier.

Before that dream can come true, it is threatened when his manipulating ex-wife comes back into the picture with every intention of staying there. She brings a few nasty surprises as well that will leave Mia and Reed reeling and wondering if there is anyway their fragile budding relationship.
18+ Adults only
Explicit Scenes, BDSM

Bound To Me Series Contains Four books, You Are Mine, You Are Ours, Because I Want To, and They Are Mine.

“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?

“You have to reject her.” Amelia heard her twin say to her boyfriend.As the ignored daughter of the Alpha, Amelia has been bullied by her twin since little. She knew it was all because she wasn’t as talented and didn’t shift like her twin did. Still, getting rejected by the only love of her life was too much to bear.Amelia accepted her father’s order and set out for college in a neighbouring pack, not knowing a group of wolves were sent to get rid of her for good.At the critical moment, her only way out was get into the pack of the most feared Alpha, the King that ruled the darkness, the one who had killed his own father to take the throne.

"This woman," Lucien said slowly, deliberately, "will not be killed."
"I will not dispose of her," He continued, as if he were commenting on the weather. "She is not prey. She is not a tribute. She is... mine."
Anana's heart slammed against her ribs. Mine? She opened her mouth to protest, to question what he meant, to remind him she hadn't agreed to anything but his voice was already rolling over the room like thunder. "If any of you question that," Lucien said, "you're welcome to challenge me." No one moved. No one even breathed. Because to challenge Lucien... was to die.
When Anana discovered her mate's betrayal and his cowardice to protect their people, she realized love could no longer save her. Each night his bond with another woman carved new scars into her flesh, leaving her broken, abandoned, and dying.
Then came Lucien Kael—the Alpha God of War. Ruthless. Feared. Bound by an oath made by her pack's former Alpha, he came to claim a she-wolf as tribute.
Faced with the choice between sacrificing an innocent girl or herself, Anana stepped forward.
"It's better to die saving my pack than to bleed for my husband's weakness."
But what awaited her in the Crimson Blood Pack was not chains, but a cage of fire and shadow—and the cold, unyielding Alpha who saw through her pain.
Now, in the God of War's den, Anana must decide: remain the broken Luna she once was... or rise into the woman fate has been pushing her to become.

Five years ago, James publicly called off their engagement and personally sent Nora to prison.
On the day of her release, James dragged her to the hospital: "Evelyn was in a car accident and needs a kidney transplant. Give her your kidney."
She had congenital heart disease - donating a kidney would be a death sentence. When she refused, James used every means to force her.
On the day she entered the operating room, her heart stopped and resuscitation failed. It was said that James, who had desperately wanted her dead, cried at her grave for three days and nights.
Later, James saw Nora again at the Smith family home.
She was already married to his older brother Michael, holding a five-year-old child, having become Michael's beloved and pampered little wife.
James: "Nora, I know I was wrong."
Michael: "Get lost. This is your sister-in-law."