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"Joanna, you can't escape!" Sebastian roars, gripping my wrist and yanking me against his chest. His lips crush mine—raw and searing—stealing the air from my lungs. I fight him, but my body betrays me, trapped between shame and a hunger I can't explain. Through tears, I whisper, "Am I just Elodie's ghost to you? Or something you own?" His eyes darken, silencing me with a kiss that leaves me hating myself for wanting more.

I'm Joanna Bennett, struggling to pay my mother's medical bills when Sebastian King stormed into my life because I resemble his dead girlfriend. He rules his empire with ruthless control, treating me like a pawn. At night, I hear him call her name, his voice breaking in ways it never does with me.

My brother Daniel watches with quiet rage, while Sebastian's enigmatic brother Zayne’s sudden interest feels far from innocent. Soon, I uncover shocking lies about my own past that threaten everything.

When Sebastian announces his engagement, I shatter—then he drags me to mansion, locking the door, reminding me what’ll happen to my mother’s care if I leave.

His fiancée Ava cuts me down with cruel jabs. Then Daniel’s journal reveals a forbidden love that broke him, destroying us both.

Until Sebastian finds me at our lakeside, dropping to his knees: “I was wrong.”

Can I forgive him—or myself if I do?

I, Alpha Devon, reject you as my mate.” You will never be good enough for me. You’re nothing—absolutely nothing—but a piece of trash that will be left for the dogs to feast on.

Elena, a werewolf who hasn’t wolfed out yet, was mistreated and maltreated by her own pack and family, and worse, her sister despised and hated her for no reason at all.

She gets even more dissatisfied with her life when the Alpha of a Great Pack rejects her as his mate and accepts her sister instead. His reason? She wasn’t up to his standard, and he wouldn’t want to associate with a low life.

What happens when the moon goddess gives her a new mate, a far more dreaded and wealthy one, mocking all those who despised, abandoned, and rejected her?

The story takes another twist as Elena doesn’t accept or recognise him as her mate. She was too broken to even see or understand that her mate was right in front of her.

Will he be able to love Elena as expected and bring her out of the misery she has accepted as her reality? Or will he further make her life more miserable than her previous mate?

“Don’t go. Do as he says,” grandmother said. Suzanne blinked and looked into her grandmother’s face.

“Grandmama?”

Grandmother’s eyes were no longer glazed, and she had spoken with such clarity when usually, her speech was slurred. At that very moment, Suzanne had no doubt that her grandmother’s mind was crystal clear.

Grandmother held onto Suzanne’s hand and gently pried open her palm, revealing the black mark. Grandmother’s eyes narrowed as she traced her bony finger on Suzanne’s palm before staring back at Suzanne.

“This,” she pointed at Suzanne’s palm, “This is the mark of the beast.”

When Maya Chen moved to the quiet beach town of Millbrook Bay, she thought she was getting away to peace. But 48 hours after she opens her private detective business, she finds a dead teenager on the beach and learns that this quiet town hides some very dangerous secrets. When people in the area tell her to stop digging and strange things start to happen, Maya has to use all of her detective skills to find out what's going on. But as she digs deeper, she finds that Millbrook Bay is linked to her past in ways she never thought possible.

When tenacious journalist Vivienne Thorne infiltrates a secretive gathering to investigate a string of disappearances, she never expects to be captured by Damien Blackthorn—the enigmatic CEO of Blackthorn Industries who harbors a deadly secret: he's a vampire lord whose powers are mysteriously waning.
Instead of killing her, Damien makes Vivienne an impossible offer: marry him in a binding blood contract to help him keep control over his territory, or watch as everyone she loves becomes collateral damage in a brewing vampire civil war.
As their reluctant alliance evolves into dangerous attraction, Vivienne learns her mysterious blood disorder is actually proof of a heritage she never knew existed—one that makes her both invaluable and deadly to the vampire world. When her apparently dead father reappears as a vampire hunter determined to destroy Damien, Vivienne must choose between the family ties she's always longed for and the forbidden bond forming with a man she should consider her enemy.
But in Shadowveil, nothing is as it seems. As ancient conspiracies surface and enemies emerge from within their closest friends, Damien and Vivienne find themselves pawns in a game centuries in the making. Their blood bond may be their best weapon—or the catalyst that awakens an ancient darkness threatening to consume them both.

Adrian Cole was never supposed to get married—especially not to Rowan Hale, the most insufferable actor in the industry.

But when his sister runs away on her wedding day, Adrian is forced to take her place… and signs a contract he can’t escape.

Now he’s legally bound to his rival.

His enemy.

The one man who looks at him like he’s already won.

As if that wasn’t enough—

they’re cast as lovers in the same high-budget film:

“Crimson Oath.”



“You and I are playing lovers,” Rowan said calmly.

Adrian let out a short laugh. “I’d rather quit.”

Rowan stepped closer.

Too close.

“Then quit,” he said softly. “And watch your career disappear.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “You think you can control everything?”

Rowan’s lips curved faintly.

“Not everything,” he said.

His hand lifted—tilting Adrian’s chin just enough to force eye contact.

“Just you.”



Now, under blinding lights and watchful eyes, they have to pretend.

To touch.
To desire.
To love.

But Adrian doesn’t trust easily.
And Rowan doesn’t love at all.

As secrets unravel, past lovers return, and obsession begins to blur the lines between acting and reality, their fake marriage becomes a dangerous game of control, power, and need.

Because the only thing worse than being bound to your enemy…

is realizing you might not want to escape.

In my past life, my best friend Isla was the one sacrificed to Blackstone Island. She was sent to fulfill the ancient covenant between humans and Shifters—to marry that cold-blooded Black Dragon Guard Captain, Sebastian.

The result? A tragedy.

Isla was tormented by Valerie, Sebastian’s childhood friend, who used the most despicable schemes to break her. And Sebastian? He remained an oblivious, arrogant statue for thirty years, watching Isla wither away like a rose drained of life. She spent her entire existence wilting in the shadows of his palace.

As for me, I followed my family’s orders and married an accountant named Ryan. But the warrior's blood of a martial arts clan runs through my veins, while Ryan was a spineless coward who loathed my "wildness." I found him calculating; he found me untameable. We divorced within two years, and I died alone and forgotten.

But the heavens have given me a second chance. I’ve been reborn!

The covenant between our races only demands a daughter of my family—it never specified which one. This time, I'm not letting Isla go to that hellhole. If a dragon needs a bride, he's getting me.

Yes, I jumped from that rooftop. Wind screaming in my ears as I fell, thinking it might finally earn me one fucking tear from them. Instead, all I got was "she's so dramatic."
Now I'm staring at fifteen-year-old skin in the mirror. Downstairs, their fake voices call my name—identical to that "welcome home" afternoon three years ago.
Yvette rushes to hug me, sugar-sweet venom dripping from her lips: "Remember who the princess is." I give her the same plastic smile right back.
I hear the voice in my head crystal clear: This time, I'm not fighting for their love—I'm taking back the life that was always mine.

I clutched the diagnosis paper that read "Stage 4 Gastric Cancer," my knuckles turning white. For twenty-two years, no matter how bad things got, Ethan always said he could handle it. But this time, my call only reached his voicemail.

I still remember that snowy night when I was seventeen. Under that tree, he squeezed my hand and promised, "You don't have to be strong anymore. Just lean on me." He said he'd marry me once he became successful, vowed to protect me for a lifetime. I believed him—believed him so much that today I drove frantically to his recording studio, desperate to tell him about my diagnosis.

But the scene through the cracked door shattered every hope I had. The sight of him entangled with Victoria hurt worse than any diagnosis. Later, when he handed me divorce papers, I coughed blood into my tissue, and he didn't even glance my way.

How did the man who promised to protect me forever become the one pushing me into the abyss? I'm dying, and even my last shred of hope is being crushed. Is this really how it ends?

I'm crouched on this fucking balcony clutching a pregnancy test, hands shaking like a leaf—two blazing red lines staring me in the face. I was such a goddamn fool thinking I'd tell Remy about our baby tonight. What a sick joke!
The banquet hall's roaring below and there's that bastard on stage, arm wrapped around Olivia, shouting "This winery has NO future without her!" Each word slams into me like a sledgehammer. TEN FUCKING YEARS! When he was drowning in debt, I sold every piece of Mom's jewelry to save his ass!
Then the son of a bitch hurls a box of abortion pills at me like I'm garbage: "Kill it, or Olivia's daddy pulls his money."
I'm glaring at that box and it hits me—ten years of my life pissed away on this piece of shit, and now even the innocent baby growing inside me is worth less than his blood money! I gave him everything and he's ready to murder our child for a fucking check!

When I woke up in that hospital bed, legs wrapped in casts and burning like hell, everything came flooding back. This time, I wasn't the naive fool I'd been before.
Tyler, my brother Ryan, and that bitch Savannah—they destroyed me. Turned a gymnastics prodigy into a cripple.
Tyler had the nerve to grab my hand, begging me to forgive Savannah for ruining my legs. My brother chose outsiders over me, screaming about "family reputation."
Fuck their love. Fuck family.
This time around, I've got evidence of the $1.2 million they owe me. I know all their dirty secrets. Round two has started, and I'm done being their victim.
Those three bastards are going to pay back every damn cent they stole from me.

I was six years old when Mom took my brother and me by the hand, leading us into a mansion that looked like a palace. She told us this was our new beginning, after all the hardships we'd been through. But no one warned me that this so-called better life would mean giving up everything I had.

My scholarships, my prom dress, even my Stanford acceptance letter—they all turned into bargaining chips just to keep my stepfather and his daughter Sienna happy. Then, the night before my wedding, they even asked my fiancé to "temporarily" give himself to her as well.

I've always been the one giving everything, pouring myself out until there's nothing left, yet I've never heard the words, "You're enough." If love means endless sacrifice, why am I never the one on the receiving end?

Maybe only when I vanish completely will they remember my name—for the first and last time.

The day our parents remarried, my entire life descended into unrelenting hell.
Jace, my stepbrother, hated me on sight the second he walked through the front door.
Like a relentless ghost that haunted my every waking moment, he stole every girl I ever cared about, one by one.
I hated him for seven long years, convinced he only got off on grinding me into the dirt. Until that drugged night at the hotel...

Bryan and I had been together for a year.

He was gentle, thoughtful. I had no reason not to trust him.

Until the night the typhoon hit.

He called. He said he, his mother, and his brother's family were outside my door, soaking wet. They just needed somewhere to stay for the night.

I walked to the door.

My hand reached for the doorknob.

That's when I saw her in the hallway mirror.

My future self.

Covered in blood. Clothes shredded.

She was screaming at me. "Don't open the door! They'll kill you!"

I once believed fleeing my engagement would set me free, only to fall headlong into a web of betrayal spun by my closest friend and faithless lover.

Now, granted a second life just a week before that fateful wedding, I stand before the man I betrayed—Alexander Stone, the unyielding soul who ended his life in my previous existence, all because of me.

This time, I've sworn to mend what I shattered. But as I reach out to him, his voice cuts like ice: "You don't need to know me. This marriage is purely transactional."

Yet if he's as indifferent as he claims, why did he linger by my hospital bed for two sleepless nights? Why do his eyes flicker with a devastation that could unravel worlds, and why does he shudder at my touch, whispering, "Are you afraid of me?"

As the shadows of old betrayals creep back, will I pierce his frozen mask to safeguard this fragile love reborn? And that haunting whisper in my mind—"Alexander Stone died because of you"—does it seal a destiny I can't escape?

I once believed that every click of Ryan's Leica shutter was proof of his love—a luxury villa, his exclusive muse—I was foolish enough to believe in this fairy tale. Until our engagement night, when Isabella appeared wearing an identical ring, and the media exposed his betrayal, I finally realized I was nothing but a carefully selected stand-in.

Have you ever spent three years of your youth living as someone else's shadow? When he held her and called me "just a cheap copy," I didn't break down. After all, isn't it more satisfying to turn the tables using the camera sounds he was so obsessed with, making him pay for his sins in his own madness? In this game of deception disguised as love, who really played whom?

The five of us were dragged into a twisted nightmare.
The game rules were absolute: Kill the Boss. All members survive. Total escape.
Luckily, we each spawned into the game with a supernatural perk.
Relying on our powers and our bond, we spent six grueling hours tearing the massive, horrific beast apart.
All we had to do was step into the extraction portal to wake up in Oregon.
My friends were screaming in victory, already planning our celebration at Voodoo Doughnuts.
Instead, I was frozen. My heart wasn't racing with adrenaline anymore; it was cold. Absolute zero.
Because my real perk tracked the Boss status.
Floating in the center of my vision, cutting through the shadows, were two lines of text that only I could see:BOSS STATUS: ALIVE.DISGUISED. The monster wasn't dead. It was standing right here, wearing the face of one of my best friends!

My daughter died on her seventh birthday.
I held her in the cold ward as her body slowly lost all warmth.
Meanwhile, her father—my husband Vincent—was on a mountain top with his mistress, making love to her all night long.
He said, "She’s just a child. There’ll be better ones sooner or later."
He said, "Camila, you’re the only one I love."
He has no idea that he’s killed the only soul in this world that loved him unconditionally.
After the divorce, I am no longer the meek Mrs. Lucchese who begged for his affection.
Funeral, scandal, a worthless bastard...
Everything I lost, I will make him pay for—with his entire family.

At my engagement dinner, my fiancé asked me to sign the prenup that killed me once before.

Last time, Adrian smiled, kissed my hand, and promised I would never be alone again. Three weeks later, debt collectors came for money I had never borrowed, black veins crawled under my skin, and his dying mother walked out of hospice in pearls.

This time, I turned to the second page first.

My name was already printed there.

Beside it was a date that had not happened yet.

Under it was another bride’s name.

A woman declared dead twenty-three years ago.

I once thought marriage was redemption.

I hid that I was a billionaire heiress, threw on an apron and played the perfect housewife. For three years, I pawned my jewelry to bail him out, stayed up all night fixing his business proposals, only for him to parade his mistress around our house.

She wore my limited-edition cashmere sweater, smashed my expensive china, his mother called me worthless for not popping out kids, and he called me cheap trash he couldn't stand anymore.

Fifty thousand dollars—that's what he thought three years of my life was worth.

When I got pregnant, I thought things would change, only to get shoved down the stairs and lose everything.

While I was still bleeding in that hospital bed, he forced me to sign divorce papers, threatening to destroy me completely.

In the La Perla private room, he made me crawl like a dog, trying to pimp me out to some random guy.

He had no idea I wasn't just hiding my identity—I was hiding my claws.

My fiancé and I held twenty-one weddings. I put on my wedding dress twenty-one times, only to crawl out of pools of blood each time.

Car accidents. Shootings. Explosions. Fires.

Everyone said I was cursed, that I was bad luck for my husband.

I was the only fool who believed they were accidents.

Until the twenty-second time.

That day, covered in blood, I escaped from an ambush back to headquarters and heard him say coldly over the walkie-talkie, "She won't die. Save Valerie first."

It turned out all the accidents were personally arranged by him.

He didn't love me—he just owed my parents a debt he could never repay.

So he staged disaster after disaster to get out of marrying me.

At the twenty-second wedding, I didn't wait for him to cancel.

This time, I was the one who called it off.

On my due date, my mate Kael locked me in the Frost Vault.
House Veyron's Hatching Law was absolute: the first dragon egg to break shell inherits the entire Emberscale empire. My sister-in-law Celine and I were both due to deliver—our egg dates only one day apart. To ensure his brother Roman's posthumous egg hatched first, Kael made his choice.
"Roman and Celine's egg must break shell first. You owe them that!" He ignored my ruptured water, ignored the agony of the egg already pressing into my birth canal, and shoved me into that dungeon built from ancient ice-dragon bones.
Then they injected me with Frostbind Serum—an ice-magic drug that freezes the life-bond between a mother dragon and her egg. I curled up on the frozen floor carved with suppression runes, feeling my child's pulse fade beat by beat, and wept.
My baby, I'm so sorry... I can't even protect you...

"Clyde, no—stop this right now. I only came to your class because Aaron recommended you to help me learn motorcycle riding for my job, not to get into something like this." On the open training field, as I struggled to balance the bike and keep it steady, my husband's old college roommate Clyde climbed on behind me to "correct" my form, his hands boldly cupping my large, soft breasts through my fitted top. The real problem hit when I felt his massive bulge pressing insistently against my backside, hard and unyielding, as he leaned in too close under the guise of instruction.

My husband and I've been married for three years, and he's been messing around with her the entire time.

Hugging and kissing her on set, whispering flirty lines in interviews.

Everyone online calls me a pathetic stand-in.

I never get mad. I just smile and help him smooth over every rumor.

That is, until I accidentally got pregnant and secretly had an abortion.

He was furious, his heart shattered, demanding to know why.

I cupped his face and said calmly: "Because I don't love you."

The one I truly love is his dead brother.

I had been married for seven years, thinking I had the perfect family.

Until Christmas Eve, when I saw a delivery order for apartment 702. The note read: severe mango allergy.

My husband's allergy. The one that could kill him.

I flew downstairs and pounded on the door.

My husband opened it. The same man who was supposed to be "out of town on business."

A pregnant woman appeared behind him.

And my six-year-old son stood behind her, glaring at me with cold eyes:

"Make her leave, Mom. She's crazy."

My world shattered.

My husband sent me to a clinic to erase my "attachment distress" toward him and our daughter.

He said I was too obsessive, too clingy, that my love was suffocating him. So the day I found he'd booked three tickets to Zurich—one for himself, one for our daughter, one for another woman—I signed the consent form.

He said the treatment was temporary. That once I was "better," we'd still be a family.

Three months later, I walked out of that clinic. I remembered the white roses at our wedding. I remembered sitting up all night with our daughter when she had a fever. I remembered every time he'd told me he loved me. All those memories were still there, as clear as if they'd happened yesterday.

But when he stood before me holding flowers, eyes red, asking why I wouldn't fight anymore, why I wouldn't cry, why I didn't love him anymore—I could only tell him calmly:

I remember loving you.

That feeling, though? It's really gone.

He thought he was erasing my pain. He had no idea what he'd actually erased.

Look, I'd heard the rumors: Skyward International's flight attendants? You never see 'em anywhere but the airport. Not once. Kinda spooky, but my coworker drops this smirk—"First time? You'll get it"—and I'm boarding Flight 6108, heart pounding.

This chief stewardess, Tiffany? Stunning. Locks eyes, buckles me in, perfume hits like a drug. Later, service cart rolls up. "Airsick? C'mon." Door shuts in the crew lounge. Boom—she's on her knees. "Relaxation service." Zipper down, wipes me clean, then swallows my cock whole. Balls-deep, tongue on my sack, cheeks sucking vacuum. "Big one," she whispers, eyes pleading like she needs my okay.

My name is Charles Cole, a blind lactation therapist.
Of course, apart from pretending to be blind, all my skills are genuine.
Ophelia sat on the bed and slowly took off her top right in front of me, her beautiful figure revealing its spring allure under the golden warm sunlight.
“Mr. Cole, let's begin!”
I nodded, reaching forward with both hands, yet I didn't dare show the slightest unusual expression on my face.
The reason was simple: Ophelia's husband, Russell, was standing coldly right behind me at that moment.

My husband abandoned a billion-dollar deal and flew back overnight for me.

Everyone envied Mrs. Harris and her perfect life.

Only I knew that when he knelt by my bed, holding my hand, his cuff was still stained with another woman's breastmilk.

He thought I'd just taken a fall.

He didn't know that while he was cradling his bastard child with that tender smile, our baby had already dissolved into a pool of blood and left me forever.

This time, I won't make a scene. I won't love him anymore.

I slipped the suicide note I'd written long ago into the drawer.

And on this rainy night, I began planning a "death" that would belong to me alone.

I gave five years to my husband's ambition—and got betrayal in return.

Forty-three days without a break on the Imperial City project. I collapsed from exhaustion and woke up in the hospital. He never picked up the phone.

He was too busy celebrating his mistress's birthday.

The blonde hair wrapped around his jacket was like a slap to the face. I'd cut my own hair short years ago because he said long hair wasn't "professional." He just meant it wasn't professional on me.

He promised we'd move to Imperial City together once he succeeded. But he was always too busy—except when it came to touring my project sites with her.

I'd had enough.

I froze the accounts. Pulled the funding. Took back everything I'd built.

He tried to push me out of my own position, so I reclaimed the patents and withdrew my support.

He called a press conference to save face. I attended—as an executive at his largest competitor.

I watched him crumble.

For five years, I held him up. And for five years, he treated me like something disposable.

He forgot that the empire he thought he built was never his.

It was always mine.

"On the bed!" He commanded gruffly, leaving no room for questions. Everything was quiet and I heard my heart pounding. It was difficult to even breathe.
He suddenly moved, reaching for me. I felt his fingers brush over my shoulder, the silky robe slowly slipping off of me. My heart filled with dread as I thought about how I looked in his eyes right now. My body trembled, my eyes shut and it felt like my face was on fire.
"Please..." I begged in a broken and shaky voice. “I don’t want to be your breeder.”


Talon the Black is as his name suggests. Dominant. Heartless. Ruthless. King of the Lycans, Talon is madly in love with his mate, Willow, but things start to fall apart when she cannot bear him a child. Driven to desperation, Willow begs him to breed a filthy human and while Talon is reluctant to, he does as his beloved wants.
Abused and maltreated by her parents, Avalyn has been sold by her father to the Lycans. Her life is even made worse when she realizes that she is to be the Lycan King’s breeder. She is to sleep with him and carry his child even though he is already married.
It is a cold business exchange, her curvy body in exchange for an heir, nothing more. But what happens once this ruthless King starts to fall in love with her? Can they hide their forbidden love from Willow or would there be hell to pay once she finds out?

"I'm about to cum in your smart little mouth and you're going to swallow all of it. Do you understand?"
He didn't let me answer, holding my head in place as his cum filled my mouth. He waited until I had swallowed every drop before he released me and I fell to the bed, sobbing.
Zipping himself up, he stalked to the door, then paused and turned to smirk at me. "Don't even bother to tell anyone about this. Or you and your mother will suffer. And get ready, because this is just the beginning."


Jasmine Scott is an omega, a nobody. Born in the slums and living with her struggling, single mom, she is an outcast at her school. Until her mom gets married to the alpha. Relieved that her status has been elevated, Jasmine is glad to be part of the alpha’s family except that Hardin Scott, the alpha’s gorgeous son is out to torment her.
Hardin hates Jasmine. She might be his step-sister but she is no blood of his. He knows she is a gold-digger out to get his father’s money and for that she must be punished.
But what happens when he starts lusting after his step-sister? Hardin craves for a taste of his step-sister's body and he won’t stop until his sensual mark is branded on her skin.

"I bet you still feel me," I whispered, tracing a lazy finger down her spine, just to make her shudder. "Still stretched from how deep I was inside you."

She sucked in a sharp breath, but I caught the way her thighs pressed together, the way she burned with the memory she was so desperately trying to bury.

"Shut up," she bit out, her voice shaking.

I chuckled, dark and low, brushing my knuckles against her jaw. "Why? Does it drive you insane knowing you let the villain ruin you first?"

Camilla
He used to make my life hell. Stefano Madden, the golden boy with ice in his veins and a filthy mouth that cut deeper than knives. I was the fat, invisible girl he loved to humiliate. Now, I’m curvy, successful… and unfortunately, his personal assistant. I swore I’d never fall for him again. But the way he looks at me now? Like he wants to ruin me all over again, only slower, dirtier, deeper. And I would let him.

Stefano
I broke her once. I should’ve walked away. But Camilla Whitlock grew into every man’s fantasy and I hate that she makes me feel. So I push her. Tease her. Own her. Until the line between cruelty and desire snaps. I take her, claim her, and when I put a baby in her, my obsession turns lethal. But when she’s stolen from me, all bets are off. I’ll burn the world to bring her back… even if she never forgives me.

Eilidh always knew Callum didn’t love her, but she still held on, hoping he would change. For three years, she endured a marriage filled with cold glances and distant affection, only to have her hopes shattered when the woman Callum truly loved returned. Without hesitation, he handed her divorce papers and demanded she abort their unborn child. Broken but not defeated, Eilidh signed the papers and walked away, vowing to return stronger.
Years later, Eilidh re-emerges, no longer the naïve woman who once begged for love. She’s independent, successful, and the mother of a child Callum never wanted. When their paths cross again,Callum realizes too late what he has lost. The ruthless billionaire who discarded her is now the man desperate to win her back. But Eilidh has changed—she’s no longer willing to settle for less than she deserves.
Callum is determined to make amends, proving his love through grand gestures and relentless pursuit. But can love ever bloom from betrayal? Eilidh heart is no longer so easily swayed, and forgiveness is not a prize to be won. Will Caleb’s regret be enough, or has Eilidh moved on for good?

“Who do you think I am? Just because you saved me and I kissed you doesn’t mean I’ll open my legs for you.”

Claire, a fiery American reeling from her father’s lifelong lie, flees to Denmark to find the mother she thought was dead.

Prince Lucas of Denmark returns home from the States only to be thrust back into the cage of royal obligations. During a grand parade, disguised as a palace guard, he saves Claire, who was in the way of the horses. He develops an instant attraction for Claire and even a slight possessiveness as he wants to keep her at all costs.

He’s living a double life; she’s searching for her own. When their worlds collide in a whirlwind of passion and hidden identities, can a love built on secrets survive the glare of the throne? Or will the weight of crowns and past betrayals tear them apart?

“We are your darkest nightmares, Nadia,” a gravelly voice said, dark chuckles meeting my ears. Chilling. “Remember when we told you that you can't breathe without us. Cannot do a fucking thing unless we deem it so? We were being fucking serious Nadia. And for breaking that rule, you will be punished. Severely. No one messes with us and gets away with it."


Innocent and naive, Nadia Burke has always kept her head down, enduring relentless bullying from Alex and Sandro Davalo, the powerful and popular werewolf twins at her elite high school. For years, they’ve mocked her for her poverty and inability to shift. But when they all end up at the same college, Nadia’s hopes for a fresh start crumble as the twins resume their torment. This time in a darker and brutal way.
Everything changes when Nadia finally shifts, revealing magical powers that could heal even the gravest wounds. Suddenly, Alex and Sandro can’t ignore her, discovering she’s their true mate. As rival packs target Nadia for her rare abilities, she and the twins must confront their painful past and find the strength to protect each other. Together, they face deadly enemies, uncover shocking betrayals, and discover that love—and forgiveness—may be their greatest strength.
Book Two of Bullied By My Alpha Stepbrother

Killian and Cillian and their mate, Rosalind. Killian and Cillian are twin brothers born in the ruling house of the Southern Gate Pack. The boys lost their mother during birth and the heartbroken Alpha assigned them to different people to see to their training and prepare them for their future responsibility which was to rule the pack together.

Killian went to his mother's sister, Lilly, while Cillian went to his father's sister, Celia. They are trained with different views of life. When the time comes for them to return to the castle, the two boys do not seem to see eye to eye. Killian has a strong personality and believes in ruling with an iron fist. He is tough and ruthless, considers his brother to be a softy and an excuse of an alpha. Cillian on the other hand, rules with a more open arm. He is very lenient and makes sure the people under him are fairly treated.

Deep down, Killian feels cheated for having been sent to his mother's sister who lived outside their pack, hence his reason for hating his brother and being extremely hard on the people around him.

Amara Morgan, a fiercely independent and enigmatic woman, finds herself irresistibly drawn to the dark allure of Ethan Blackwood, the brooding alpha of the Silverwood pack. Little does she know that Ethan harbors a secret, one that could either ignite their passion or tear them apart forever.

As their connection deepens, Amara uncovers a dark prophecy that foretells the awakening of an ancient power. Suddenly, she becomes the linchpin in a battle between werewolves, witches, and an unspeakable evil. With her heart torn between love and duty, Amara must embrace her own hidden abilities to save her soulmate and their forbidden love.

But secrets have a way of revealing themselves, and the truth threatens to unravel everything Amara holds dear. Betrayal lurks in every shadow, and allies become enemies as the battle for Silverwood intensifies. Can Amara and Ethan defy fate and break the ancient curse that binds them? Or will their love succumb to the forces of darkness?

When Emilia Gray awakens from a three-year coma, she's forced to confront a dark and mysterious world she never knew existed. Bound to the powerful Valois family by a centuries-old blood oath, Emilia must navigate a treacherous landscape of supernatural politics and forbidden love.
As she's drawn deeper into the world of the Valois, Emilia finds herself torn between her growing feelings for the enigmatic Luca Valois and her desire for independence and self-discovery.
Will Emilia be able to claim her own power and forge her own destiny, or will the blood oath forever define her fate?"

The Alpha who saved Seraphina from rogues never meant to keep her, until she turned twenty one and the Moon Goddess marked her as his.

Dimitri Volkov ruled his pack with brutal efficiency and kept his ward at arm's length, but one ceremonial night changed everything. Now, Seraphina’s virgin body burns for the only man forbidden to touch her. The dominant Alpha whose presence alone made her drip with shameful need.

Pack law says that a guardian cannot claim his ward. Her first heat says otherwise.

When she begs for his knot, his control shatters at the scent of her arousal. When every unmated male can smell that she’s ready to be bred, Dimitri faces an impossible choice. Let them both go mad from denial, or pin her beneath him and show her why the most forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

She was raised to obey her Alpha. Tonight, she will learn what submission really means.

He calls me Sage, a blank canvas he reshapes to fit his whims. My Alpha, Kieran—the King of the North—blindfolds me each night, his whispers soft against my ear as he breathes my name.

Yet his intense stare cuts right through me, fixated on the distant moonlight he craves but can never touch. The irony stings—he looks at another through my eyes, just as I scour him for echoes of my fiancé, lost to me ten years ago. We serve as flawless stand-ins for each other, offering warmth in this prison of hate and longing, even as we tear at one another's wounds.

When the harsh truth strips away our last veil of illusion, how will this deceitful game we've played finally unravel? "You are not my Alpha," I whisper, "you are just my moon." But when that moonlight dims, can our shattered spirits still navigate the infinite shadows to find home?

My locker door swings open and the hate mail tumbles out like confetti from hell. Murderer's daughter. Your dad killed kids. Die like them.
Three weeks since the news broke, and they just keep coming.
I'm on my hands and knees, frantically shoving the notes into my backpack while the hallway erupts in laughter. Sarah steps over me like I'm roadkill.
The first time I drowned, I thought it was an accident. The second time, I thought I was losing my mind. But by the third time—watching Blake's lifeless body sink next to mine in that chlorine-burning water—I finally got it. Time isn't moving forward. It's stuck, like a broken record, spinning back to the day Blake could still dive like an Olympic champion, before the accident stole everything from him.
This time, I won't let him jump in after me.
I have to save Blake from me. But I'm drowning in more than just pool water, and I don't know how to surface. I don't know how to stop this endless loop of death and guilt and love that's killing us both, over and over again.
How do you break a curse when you're the one who cast it?

My husband Michael's father and my own father shared the same name—Robert. His was Robert Carter; mine, Robert Smith. I once thought it a sweet coincidence, until that 3 AM phone call turned this quirk of fate into a living nightmare.
The nursing home called to say Robert Carter had died, but when Michael returned from his business trip, he assumed it was my father who had passed. "Old Robert's finally gone," he smirked. "Should've moved him to the cheaper nursing home ages ago." Can you believe it? His own father—the man who'd left him an inheritance—and there he was, helping his medical intern mistress cover up malpractice, dismissing the death as "just some useless old man."
He has no idea he's protecting his father's killer. No clue I've seen through his cold-bloodedness all along.
I wonder, when the truth finally hits him, how will this absurd tragedy end?

I was "Ghost," the undefeated legend of the underground racing circuit. To uncover the truth behind the tragic fall that left my sister, Sylvia, in a coma, I disguised myself as a timid, pathetic scholarship student and infiltrated Spencer Academy—an elite world ruthlessly ruled by old-money families and the hockey dynasty.

I thought my petty revenge was flawless when I slashed a bully's tire with a razor blade hidden in my sleeve. But I was caught red-handed by the academy's most feared predator: Rowan King, the "Tyrant of the Ice."

He was Sylvia's rumored boyfriend. More importantly, he was the last person to see her that night.

With a single glance, he shattered my "good girl" facade. He knew my true identity as the street racer "Ghost," and he knew exactly why I had sneaked into his school.

I should have treated him as my prime suspect. But between his fiercely dominant advances and his reckless, deadly protection, he was making my heart race entirely out of control...

When I scrolled across that photo of Tyler with his arms wrapped around Rachel at 2 AM, I nearly shattered my phone against the wall. That bastard—maintaining our "just scratching an itch" arrangement while wooing her with soulmate bullshit?

With anger burning through my veins and my skin flushing hot, I stormed off to the jazz bar determined to expose him.

But who could have guessed that in the middle of this dramatic showdown, I'd discover the truth about Seth—the one secretly marking up my sheet music, the one who decked Tyler for me?

Maybe this gut-wrenching betrayal was actually the universe's twisted way of pointing me toward something real.

My husband Ronald's best friend Clyde died three months ago, and with his last breath, he made Ronald promise to take care of his pregnant widow, Jennifer. From that moment, Jennifer invaded our lives, and I was only four months pregnant at the time.

Then Jennifer got caught in a gang shootout. She needed an emergency blood transfusion, and she had this rare blood type—Rhnull. Turns out, I'm Rhnull too.

To save Jennifer and her baby, Ronald forced me to abort mine.

I woke up, and my world collapsed.

Lying next to me was Sebastian—the golden boy, the heir to the Rhodes empire, and the nemesis who has tormented me for twenty years.

I fled. I swore to take that night to my grave. If I kept my mouth shut, no one would know.

But Fate has a twisted sense of humor. Five weeks later, two red lines on a pregnancy test slapped me in the face. I’m pregnant. And the father isn’t just my childhood nightmare. He’s the man who just bought my company. My new boss.

I tried to hide. He hunted me down. He scares off my dates. He tramples my pride. He invades my life like a tyrant. He mocks me in public, yet destroys anyone who touches me in private.

"Nancy, did you really think you could escape?" He pins me against the wall, his eyes dark, that familiar scent of cedar suffocating me. "Admit it. You hate me, but you need me."

On my eighteenth birthday, I didn't get a cake. I got a slap from my mother and my MIT acceptance letter crushed under her heel.

In their eyes, I wasn't a daughter—I was a walking blood bank, a spare part for my cousin Jennifer.

They took my blood, made me take the blame, even sent me to prison in her place.

In that car accident, my mother saved my cousin without hesitation and left me to bleed out in the wreckage.

"Save Jennifer first! That wretch is too stubborn to die!"

That's when I gave up on them.

But what truly broke me wasn't being sent to a mental hospital—it was the diary I found hidden in my mother's safe.

My husband and parents wanted me dead. All because my sister was "dying."

They shoved a divorce agreement and an experimental surgery consent form at me.

I was supposed to be her donor.

But they didn't know I was the one actually dying.

Three days ago, they told me I had terminal bone cancer.

One month to live.

So when they threatened me into some back-alley surgery, I smiled.

I was already dying anyway.

I donated a kidney to my adopted sister.

Seven days later, I lay on the cold hospital bed, listening to my fiancé and family laughing down the hall.

They were popping champagne to celebrate my adopted sister's discharge.

No one remembered I had just had surgery. No one remembered my nut allergy.

When someone handed me a plate of almonds, I smiled.

I shoved them into my mouth, handful after handful, and swallowed them down. Then I told them I was done fighting for their love.

My fiancé demanded I postpone our wedding. My brother beat me until I bled and locked me on the rooftop to die.

After being abandoned eighty-eight times, I finally learned how to love myself—by cutting everyone who failed me out of my life.