2435 Book(s) Related to pamper my fiancee

I'm an ancient vampire prince who's been playing human boyfriend to a demon hunter.
Big mistake.
She's completely unhinged—GPS tracking, 24/7 surveillance, the works.
When she threatens to dump me unless I surrender all my secrets, I do the unthinkable:
I actually say yes.
Too bad she doesn't know her "helpless" boyfriend has been the one keeping her alive all this time.

In my last life, my parents favored my younger brother. They promised him to the angel who would remain on the surface, and shoved me to an abyssal demon.
When the apocalypse came, the angel burned through her divine power and fell. I took my family in out of kindness, and they repaid me with a bowl of poisoned soup.
When I opened my eyes again, our whole family had reincarnated.
This time, my parents couldn’t wait to push my brother into the demon’s arms, dreaming of living off him inside the abyssal lair.
I watched them sign the shadow contract like they were grabbing a priceless treasure, then took the rejected holy-light angel without hesitation.
They had no idea the Abyss’s shelter is paid for in flesh and blood.
But an angel’s loyalty can raise an iron divine kingdom that never falls, even in this world-ending flood.

I begged my mom for ten dollars, but she smashed my head with a frying pan instead.

The next day, my mother posted on a forum asking:
"Hi everyone. My eldest son lied about the end of the world just to get ten dollars. I want to ask, how can I sell him on the underground black market to pay off his younger brother's $20,000 debt?"

The moment I saw that post, any remaining love I had for them died instantly. I snapped my phone's SIM card in half.

What she didn’t know was that a world-ending acid flood would descend upon New York tomorrow.

I had begged so bitterly for that ten dollars just to trigger the Ten-Million-Fold Return System to build a three-billion-dollar Doomsday Ark.

Since she didn’t want it, I gave the throne of the Ark Queen to the female classmate who casually tossed me some charity.

In my past life, I personally dug up two alien meteorites, handing the blue one that granted "Frost Mastery" to my childhood friend, Mike. He repaid me by sealing me inside an ice wall, cursing me to "die like a piece of trash" in the minus 70-degree blizzard.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the initial blast site.
This time, I didn't even spare him a glance; I stuffed both meteorites into my pocket.
I transformed a missile silo into a doomsday bunker, brought my parents inside, and stockpiled ten years' worth of supplies.
When Mike arrived with a gang of thugs to smash my door down, I stood in the warm command center, watching half his face rot with frostbite on the monitor.
I didn't open the door.
This time, I am sending back the despair of my past life tenfold.

In my last life, a friend I’d trusted for ten years drove a knife into my heart over a single biscuit. When I opened my eyes again, we had both been reborn—right before the extreme freeze arrived.

He was convinced the apocalypse had come. He borrowed from loan sharks, rented a massive warehouse to hoard supplies, and even crowned himself king during the icebound period, killing without mercy.

But he didn’t know the truth:

This disaster would end completely after only thirty days.

While he taunted me like a madman, I didn’t expose him. I calmly requested thirty days of paid leave from my company.

This time, I’ll sit in a warm, climate-controlled room and watch—when the state machine restarts on day thirty—how he drops to his knees and sobs in despair.

Betrayed to death by my own brother, I was reborn before the apocalypse descended.
He rushed to seize the god-tier [Copy] talent first, leaving the trash [Purification] talent for me.
He thought that with this talent, he'd have no worries and reign supreme in the apocalypse.
Meanwhile, I quietly closed the last door of my fortress.
He didn't know that his prized copying ability had a fatal flaw.

After I retired, I was willing to do the dirtiest work at a small auto repair shop—just to give my sick daughter an ordinary childhood.
I endured my mother’s insults, my eldest brother’s wage cuts, my younger brother’s extortion.
But they actually joined forces to steal my daughter’s life-saving money for gambling, then sold me into an illegal mine to pay off their debts.
When the iron chain locked around my wrist, when my daughter cried in despair, the killing intent that had slept in my blood for three years finally woke up completely.
They had no idea I was once the iron-blooded God of War—commander of a million troops, the name that made enemy nations tremble.

“So blood is less like a meal for you than it is a drug trip,” I note, and he rests his hand on my thigh, making my heart clench.

“No, blood is sustenance,” he corrects, “some bland and some flavorful, but your blood,” He leans in closer, finger tracing up the side of my leg, right along the femoral artery. “I was taken to heaven, my soul lit aflame. Pure ecstasy. I wish I could show you.” His eyes scorch my skin, suffusing my cheeks with heat. His fingers are right there between my legs, and I know without a doubt that such ecstasy is well within my reach, no biting required. He can see that desire darkening my gaze, and his smile steadily broadens. “You know, there are ways of enhancing one’s flavor. I normally tease it out for hours before I drink.” He rests his lips against my ear. “Sanguis always tastes best when a woman is in full climax.”


Leah just wanted to make some friends and blow off some steam. She did not expect her night of clubbing to get her kidnapped by a coven of hot, young vampires addicted to her blood. Now she’s a slave, a blood servant in a mansion of beautiful tormentors fighting each other to lay permanent claim to her. She doesn’t need to pick just one. She could have them all if she chose, but the urge to escape and rescue her imprisoned best friend, the man she’s been in love with since grade school, that noble need remains. Even if he could never fully satisfy her needs and fulfill her darkest fantasies the way the others can… It’s too deadly a game, leading them all on, and one of these vampires is bound to overindulge and suck her dry. Though the truth is, she’d enjoy every second of that experience, right up until death.

I like to stay an optimist, but being a college drop-out and lonely barista is not exactly an eventful or enviable life. Then one of my customers kidnapped me on my way to work and tried to turn me into a human sacrifice. It seems she mistook me for her rival, an ancient witch.
To be clear, I am not a witch. Turns out I can shape-shift though. Just.. not very well. I have zero control over what I turn into, and now I appear to be stuck as a cat, a little black house cat to be more specific. I was stranded in the woods with zero chance of getting back to civilization when I came across this beautiful werewolf boy just returning from a night of full moon fun way out here in the woods.
Now I know what you’re thinking: cat chases dog, a bad idea, right? But human him seems to love my fluffy cat self. Though he has no idea who I really am since the only thing I can say to him right now is either “purr” or “meow”. He was kind enough to rescue me and take me home to his apartment. Now I’ve been sitting on his lap and sleeping in his bed and feeling entirely frustrated I have no way to ask him how the hell you control this animal to human thing! He seems to manage it easily enough, snapping right back to human shape each morning from wolf, so why can’t I escape this prison of furry flesh?
I need to find some way to communicate with him, and also to deal with this witch hunting me down. And also avoid this boy’s family: an entire, volatile clan of werewolves with a decidedly low tolerance for cat-girls.

Everyone deserves a second chance, even if they tried to strangle you to death in your sleep.

Aya has been trained all her life as a living weapon, but she has never taken a life. She has never been with a man. She lives her life for the sake of her mistress Lady Charlotte. Her latest mission: impersonating her lady and becoming bride to the barbarian prince who has invaded her homeland and imprisoned the former queen.

It will be a brutal task, assassinating the prince and his father and reclaiming the castle from the hands of the hundreds of savage northmen who have seized it. Aya is fully equipped for that mission, but she is not at all prepared for the savage charm of her new suitor. His tongue is just as wicked as his features are angelic, and the fact that he could break her neck with ease should he discover her duplicitous plot… Her intense attraction to him grows ever more potent, and her impulse is to claim him, not as a victim of her deadly scheme, but as her lover.

Will the prince even accept her though, if he uncovers her true identity: a peasant girl who came to this castle to murder him? Or is this deadly game of betrayal doomed to end in all out war?

Three years ago, on the eve of my wedding, my fiancé murdered my parents.Hiding behind his billions, he feigned insanity and slipped through the cracks of justice.
Now, three years later, this devil has returned—professing love, begging for another chance.He watches me, forces me, imprisons me, as if I were his golden canary, trapped and powerless.
I fight back, collecting evidence piece by piece, determined to put him behind bars.I thought I was the one holding the power, standing at the cliff’s edge, watching him struggle at the bottom.
What I didn’t know… was that I had been the devil's prey all along, and it was me writhing at the bottom—while the devil stood above, smiling in control.

"You're marrying my mother, Jack,"I said. "And I'm pregnant with your baby."
"Pardon?"
The icy voice behind us froze me in place.
I didn't need to turn to know who it was.
Jack's grip tightened, but my knees were already giving out.
I turned slowly, and Celeste stood in the doorway, her face a porcelain mask of shock and fury.
"Mum…" I took a trembling step toward her, instinctively wrapping my arms around my stomach. "Please, I can explain…"


I let his father touch me.
I didn’t mean for it to happen.
It was supposed to be just one night—a reckless decision to escape the pain of a broken past. I didn’t know who he was, only that he was older, magnetic, and made me feel wanted for the first time in years.
But that night changed everything.
Jackson Romero isn’t just anyone. He’s the father of my first love—the boy who broke my heart ten years ago. And now… I’m pregnant.
Worse, Jackson is about to become my stepfather, and his son is back in my life.
They say age is just a number, and Jackson… belongs to my mother.
But how can I walk away when every part of me already belongs to him? When my body remembers his touch, but my heart still aches for the boy who turned his back on me.
Caught between the twisted lies my mother spins, the betrayal of the boy I once loved, and the dangerously irresistible man I never should have touched, I’m faced with a choice that could destroy us all.
In our story, love always comes with a price.
And someone lurking in the shadows will stop at nothing to make sure I pay it, no matter the cost.

“Nira,” he breathed, reaching for the back of her head.
She continued to work every inch of him, her hands teasing, her mouth caressing, until his legs began to shake and his knees nearly buckled. She started to feel him grow larger as she moved faster, pulling his hips to her as she swallowed every inch of him, listening to him pant and groan.


It began with the legendary love story between Nira and Cursed One, Mikael. Mythical Investigator Nira Daniels was sent to look into a realm veil because of rumors of Daemoni terrorizing the local village. What Nira found instead was Mikael, the son of the High Queen, known as the Cursed One. He was nothing like she expected a Daemoni to be. Nira saw a thoughtful and insightful man under Mikael’s fearsome Daemoni form. And Mikael learned what love is with Nira’s company. It was a happily-ever-after, until their daughter Theanna was born, whose life was bonded to an intricate destiny……

High-school misfit Julian fell in over his head into a relationship doomed for dysfunction. When the love of your life turns out to be a polyamorous vampire, eternity together is bound to be a messy rollercoaster, but even after all the trauma and heartbreak, this one of a kind devil still holds his heart. If only Luc shared his devotion... He certainly shares his obsession.

“Your girlfriend’s pretty cynical, now isn’t she?” Luc speaks into my ear, leaning casually on my shoulder. I blush bright red, and his smile grows all the broader.
He takes both our hands and leads us off across the dance floor, and the crowd parts for him like he’s the King of England - the bouncers steering away anyone that tries to block us.
“Holy shit. You really are the owner?!” Heather drunkenly shouts, as we make our way up the stairs and into that VIP booth.
“My club and my right to lay claim to anyone who catches my eye,” Luc drawls, and I shoot him a look, shifting my weight to get in between him and Heather.
“Look, you can’t just… I mean, thanks for the drinks, but she is not going to…” God I sound like an idiot, and staring straight in Luc’s eyes I feel more than a little intimidated, especially because he is not intimidated by me whatsoever. He’s smiling like I’ve just gifted him a shiny new present. I turn to tell Heather we should go, and Luc catches my arm.
“I wasn’t trying to steal away your date,” he laughs. “I invited the both of you here, now didn’t I?” He pushes a hand through Heather’s hair, turning boldly to face her dreamy eyed gawking. “You ever had a three way?”

"Erin, are you really going to get back together with that cowardly ex-fiancé?" Kingsley stared at me, demanding an answer.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I glared at him and shouted back, "Yes! So what? We have nothing between us.Who the hell are you to question me?"
Kingsley burst into laughter, his laugh so sinister that it sent chills down my spine; looking at him, I felt both terrified and utterly estranged.
"He's a gentleman, sure, but can he make you climax in bed?" It was only then that I realized Kingsley had backed me into a corner.
His hand slid my short skirt up, his fingers teasing along the edge of my already drenched panties.
"Miss Erin, you're soaked for me!"

Within the intricate tapestry of "Anonymous Baby Daddy," a tale of shadows and redemption unfolds. Yingmei, an heiress enshrouded in opulence, stumbles upon a truth that shatters the facade of friendship and love. As she navigates the tempestuous waves of betrayal, her journey becomes a symphony of resilience and vengeance, interwoven with the enigmatic Gu Mohan. Through a whirlwind of emotions and intricately woven plots, Yingmei must unveil the depths of deception, confronting the very essence of forgiveness and the complexity of human connections. In a crescendo of revelations, alliances form, destinies entwine, and a new dawn beckons, casting its ethereal light on love's enduring power amidst adversity. Is a symphony of words that dances between perplexity and Burst, leaving readers entranced by its melody of emotions and the entangled fates of its characters.

"You are absolutely my fucking woman, Dani. Got me?"
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Dani," he pressed. "Do you get me?"
"No, Austin, I don't," I admitted as I pulled my robe closed again and sat up. "You confuse me."
He dragged his hands down his face. "Tell me what's on your mind."
I sighed. "You're everything my parents warned me against. You're secretive, but you're also honest. I feel wholly protected by you, but then you scare me more than anyone I've ever known. You're a bad boy, but when I dated a so-called good one, he turned out to be the devil, so, yeah, I don't get you because you're not what I expected. You drive me crazier than anyone I've ever met, but then you make me feel complete. I'm feeling things I don't quite know how to process and that makes me want to run. I don't want to give up something that might be really, really good, but I also don't want to be stupid and fall for a boy just because he's super pretty and makes me come."
Danielle Harris is the daughter of an overprotective police chief and has led a sheltered life. As a kindergarten teacher, she's as far removed from the world of Harleys and bikers as you could get, but when she's rescued by the sexy and dangerous Austin Carver, her life is changed forever.
Although Austin 'Booker' Carver is enamored by the innocent Dani, he tries to keep the police chief's daughter at arm's length. But when a threat is made from an unexpected source, he finds himself falling hard and fast for the only woman who can tame his wild heart.
Will Booker be able to find the source of the threat before it's too late?
Will Dani finally give her heart to a man who's everything she's been warned about?

At the board meeting, he voted to dilute my equity.

"This is business, Elena. Not personal."

Three years of hidden marriage. I thought we were partners. But in that moment, I finally understood—I was just his technical supplier on the road to success.

What Ryan didn't know: that Technology Contribution Agreement he signed three years ago contained one clause. 70% of NexTech's core algorithm IP belongs to me. Personally.

Product launch day. Two hundred investors watching. I took the microphone.

He thought I'd present the tech specs like always.

He was wrong.

Dante Ashford is my stepbrother, and the one person I should never have fallen in love with.

When I was ten, my parents died saving his family. The Ashfords took me in. He was good to me back then. Somewhere along the way, I fell for him.

When I was eighteen, he nearly died in an ambush. I donated blood, then a kidney to save him. I was unconscious for three days. When I woke up, Vivian Ross sat by his bed—and he believed she was his savior.

After that, he pushed me away. Vivian became his fiancée.

In my past life, Vivian's crimes brought disaster to our family. Dante got on his knees and begged me to take her punishment. I refused. She died anyway. Then he pretended to love me, planned our wedding—and on that day, his assistant announced to everyone: "This wedding was a lesson to show Miss Elena Hayes what it feels like to be abandoned by the whole world."

I jumped from the church balcony.

When I opened my eyes, I was back at that moment—him on his knees, begging.

This time, I said yes.

Dante, from now on, we're done.

Everyone in this city knows that the king of the underworld, my husband Vincent, is crazy about me.

Three years ago, when that bullet tore through my abdomen, it took away my chance of ever being a mother. He held my blood-soaked body and swore to God he'd make the shooter's entire family pay. A month later, that family was wiped off the map in this city. No one dares speak their name anymore.

He sat by my hospital bed, holding my hand. "I don't need kids. I only need you."

I believed him.

Until six months ago, when his brother died in an accident, leaving behind his wife Serena. The family pressure came like a tidal wave. An heir. A bloodline. That's all they cared about. And that woman became everyone's golden ticket to keeping the Caruso name alive.

That's when my husband stopped coming home at night. Every night, I hear them through the wall. Sounds that used to be mine.

But today, the doctor told me my body is healing. The chances are slim, but there's hope.

I clutch the medical report and rush home, imagining Vincent's face when he sees the results. Maybe everything can go back to how it was. Maybe he'll realize he doesn't need her.

Until I stand outside our mansion and hear laughter pouring out.

"Serena's pregnant! Can you believe it? The family finally has an heir!"

"Finally. The family's saved."

The day I died in a foreign country, my boyfriend was in the spotlight with another woman.

He's the man I built from nothing. Five years ago, I saved a broke orphan fresh out of college from the gutter. He said he wanted to be famous, wanted to make it to the top of the hockey world. In exchange, he became my boyfriend for five years.

I gave him the best coaching staff money could buy. Bought an entire hockey franchise and made him the centerpiece. Called in every favor I had to make him MVP.

But while he enjoyed everything I gave him, he refused to make our relationship public. Said it would "hurt his brand." He could make headlines with reporters and models, but nobody could know I existed.

He even said on national TV: "Those owners who just throw money around are pretty boring. Hockey is about skill, not money."

So why did he lose his mind when he found out I was dead?

One hundred years married to Everett, and I've learned one thing: whenever he wants to push me into a corner, he throws the mate bond dissolution agreement in my face. Whenever my parents want me to cave, they hold the family name over my head.

They've always wanted the same thing — for me to hand over everything I have to my twin sister Rosalie, who's been sick her whole life.

I've fought it. I've grieved over it.

But when the doctor slid the diagnosis across the desk — Blood Depletion Syndrome, late stage, less than two weeks left — something in me just went quiet.

What's the point of fighting when you're already dead?

One snide comment from my worst enemy, and I dropped eighty million gold coins on a custom golem built to look exactly like him.

My requirements were simple: same face, same body, and a personality that's submissive, obedient, and takes whatever I dish out without fighting back.

I've had that insufferable face fetching me coffee, rubbing my feet, massaging my shoulders, even wearing a maid outfit.

Watching him bow and scrape for me finally lets out most of the resentment I've been carrying.

Then tonight, the workshop sends a message out of nowhere:

[Due to a shortage of high-purity mithril, your custom golem needs another month to complete. Thank you for your patience.]

I look over at the man kneeling by the couch, rubbing my legs.

So who exactly have I been treating like a dog for the past two months?

Ryan loves me deeply—at least that's what everyone says. Seven years together, we look like the perfect couple to outsiders. But only I know he's betrayed me three times.

The first time was three years ago. His brother died saving him, leaving behind his widow Sophia—Ryan's unforgettable first love. He married her behind my back. When I found out, I completely fell apart. I have dignity. I refuse to be the other woman. I wanted to leave, but he begged on his knees. "This is just to take care of my sister-in-law. Once I find the truth about my brother's death, I'll divorce her. Then we can get married."

I believed him. I forgot that a man never lets go of a lost love he's gotten back.

The second time was at last year's company anniversary. In front of everyone, he introduced Sophia as his wife. I watched them on stage, a knife through my heart. That night he explained, "It's just for show. Once everything's over, we can be together."

I believed him again.

The third time was two weeks ago. Surveillance footage showed Ryan with Sophia entering a hotel room. I rushed to confront him, but heard her voice outside his office. "Ryan, I'm pregnant. It's your baby."

Through the crack in the door, I see him hesitate. In that instant I understand.

He's going to keep her.

He spots me and rushes out in a panic. "It was an accident! Let me explain! After she has the baby, I'll give her money and make her leave. She won't be in our lives anymore!"

In that moment, I finally wake up. There will be no future for us.

The mafia boss chose me as his decoy—a body double for the woman he loves.

Eight years. Three bullets, one car crash, one explosion. The doctor said ten more minutes and I would've died on that operating table when they took my kidney. I gave him a son. He let me play "the boss's wife" in public.

Until he cleared every obstacle for her and decided to marry her.

Her wedding photos replaced mine in the master bedroom. He has her initials tattooed on his arm. When I questioned him, he had his men slap me at a charity gala, forced me to admit "I'm just a stand-in." When I touched her, he took away my custody, declared she was "the true lady of this house."

The punishments got worse. When he threatened to cancel my mother's insurance, I finally learned to shut up.

He pulls me close, whispers in my ear: "She gave up everything for me. Not like you—you were born to take bullets for me."

"Deal with it. She's not replacing you. This is her house now."

Even my son took her side.

"Stop being dramatic! Natalie actually loves us! You're nothing!"

But their pure, innocent Natalie? She unplugged my mother's ventilator while I was locked in the basement. Let his enemies slip poison into my drink during the last job.

When Grayson found me, all he said was: "She's pregnant and emotional. Go rearrange the flowers at the wedding venue."

I wipe the black blood from my lips. Look at him quietly.

"I'm dying."

Everyone in our circle knows I'm Adrian's caged bird, and the "bad woman" his son Miles hates most.

For Miles, I gave up my fellowship in Zurich and spent seven years playing housewife.

What did I get in return? Adrian took Sophie to gallery openings on our anniversary. Miles smashed cake in my face in front of everyone, calling me a frumpy housewife.

Adrian was certain I couldn't leave him. Certain I couldn't leave our son.

He threw the divorce papers on the table with a cold smile. "Sign this, and you lose everything. Including Miles."

He expected me to beg on my knees.

I didn't.

I picked up the pen and signed without hesitation.

"Fine, Adrian. You keep Miles. And I get to keep myself."

For just a moment, I saw shock flash in his eyes.

I heard later that Adrian searched for me like a madman, and the son he doted on cried and screamed for his mommy.

Too bad. I'd already burned it all down myself.

I've been secretly married to him for five years, but he's never treated me as his wife. Our six-year-old daughter has never called him Dad in public.

One drunken night, I got pregnant. He gave me a marriage contract that came with one condition: secrecy.

I thought time would change everything. I stood by him through the company's darkest days. When I was hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer, he didn't come. When our daughter was born, he was in a meeting. Every moment that mattered, he wasn't there.

Then that clumsy intern showed up.

From that point on, he gave her all his attention and patience. He broke his own rules for her again and again. That's when I finally understood: when someone doesn't love you, they just don't.

So I took my daughter and disappeared from his world completely.

But why did that calm, controlled man lose his mind?

First day back after the long weekend. I get a few artisan gift baskets shipped in from my family's farm: maple syrup, raw honey, smoked beef jerky, handmade jams. Top-shelf stuff, every single one. Shipping alone runs me a few hundred dollars.

After the morning meeting, I hand them out one by one. The team crowds around me, all smiles, falling over themselves saying things like "You're literally the best, Ms. Bennett" and "Oh my god, you're such an amazing boss."

They're barely out the door when I notice the conference room projector is still mirroring someone's phone. Up on the screen: a private group chat. Fifteen members.

Everyone on the team is in it.

Everyone except me.

A new message pops up: [Farm junk? Really? Preston Vance's team got $200 gift cards AND black truffle. Sloane's such a cheap ass lol]

Replies flood in. Someone photoshops a picture of me. Someone else hopes I drop dead at my desk.

To them, I'm just another boss squeezing her people dry.

Last quarter, I handed every single one of them a three-thousand-dollar cash bonus out of my own pocket. Plus a brand-new phone. Each.

Fine. If they think I'm not giving enough, I'll give them exactly what they're asking for.

Though later, when they come crawling back one by one, I find myself wondering what exactly they think begging is going to get them.

Our engagement has gone unfulfilled for ten years.

My parents saved his family in that yacht accident. With their dying breath, they asked his family to look after me. In return, we go to city hall every year, trying to fulfill this obligation.

Ten attempts. Ten failures.

Elevator malfunctions, food poisoning, home invasions, car crashes... Every single time, I get hurt at the worst possible moment while he walks away without a scratch.

This makes ten. A truck slams into the passenger side, my head smashes against the window, and he's already running across the street, pulling that woman into his arms.

On my way to find him after they stitch me up, I hear his assistant's voice in the hospital corridor:

"Mr. Ashford, the truck driver's been taken care of. Money'll hit his account like we agreed... but is this really fair to Miss Bennett? It's been ten years, every single year—"

William's voice comes out low and tired. "I don't have a choice. Her parents saved me, but I'm in love with Emma."

I look down at the diagnosis. ALS. Late stage.

Turns out I've been trying to marry a lie this whole time.

Landon Rhodes and I grew up together, both dreaming of becoming top chefs. But I knew he was the one with a palate kissed by God.

So when Rowan Stone, this street-rat punk, got her claws into him, I took the drinks, the smoke, the slaps for him. When he wanted to skip the National Young Chefs Competition to stay with her drunk ass, I dragged him back to the culinary lab.

He won the championship, got recruited by a three-star Michelin restaurant, graduated and made millions. I became the most invisible prep cook in his kitchen.

Until Rowan wrapped her car around a pole during one of her episodes, and he lured me into a basement.

"This is all your fault! If you'd minded your own damn business, she'd still be alive!"

His foot came down on my right hand. Bones cracking. My fingers ground to pulp.

All those 5 AM trips to the fish market for him. All those nights watching stock simmer for forty-eight hours straight. All the praise he soaked up at final practicals. My sacrifices, and all I got in return was his hatred.

"These worthless hands that can only cut vegetables deserve to rot in the ground with her."

The pain swallowed me whole.

When I wake up again, I'm back to that afternoon when he said he was going to the bar to find her.

This time, I won't stop him.

I promised Ethan Caldwell, the boy I grew up with, I'd give up the top schools to attend some mediocre college with him.

On the final day of application submission, I brought homemade soup to his studio.

Outside the door, I heard him bragging to his friends: "Claire Bennett's like a damn puppy. I tell her to come to NYU with me, and boom, she changes her whole application to NYU. Lily's grades are shit. If Claire doesn't go for that full scholarship, Lily's got it in the bag. And Claire's so whipped, even when she finds out, she'll just suck it up like always."

The thermos in my hands feels cold now.

My boyfriend looks at me like I'm trash. Too fat. Too plain. My clothes are ugly. He never misses a chance to tear me down.

I thought he was just mean. Then his "good friend" Sophie spilled coffee all over our ten-thousand-dollar control board.

That board was three months of work. Three months of all-nighters, twice I passed out from low blood sugar. It was our entry for the National Robotics Competition. The deadline's tomorrow. Now it's gone.

I confronted Sophie, and he stormed in, pulled her into his arms, and pointed his finger in my face. "It's just a stupid competition. Did you really need to come at Sophie like that?"

Turns out he's not just mean. He genuinely can't stand me.

When Trevor Sullivan had nothing, I gave up billions to follow him to Silicon Valley. Everyone said I was crazy in love with him, until his first love came back to the States right after he made it big.

Seven years of playing the perfect wife and mother, and then I hear him coaching our five-year-old daughter: "Ruby, you can't tell Mommy about my fake wedding with Amber. Not a word, okay?"

"But Daddy, Mommy's gonna be sad..."

"If you tell Mommy, Daddy won't love you anymore. Got it?"

My daughter trembles, nodding frantically.

I stand outside the door, my heart turning to ash.

For the woman he never got over, he doesn't just betray our marriage. He makes our five-year-old lie for him.

Everyone expects me to cry, to beg, to fall apart.

Instead, I dial the number I blocked seven years ago: "Dad, can the family jet still come get me?"

Trevor Sullivan has no idea. I was never some gold digger who needed him to survive. I was the one with everything who made myself small for his sake.

As a regular student, I never expected to fit into the world of trust fund kids. But this real estate heiress reached out to me, said she'd show me how the other half lives, even promised to introduce me to New England's most powerful heir.

I thought she'd be my friend. Thought she actually cared. I even fell for him.

Until she framed me for stealing confidential school files. Until he said, "Just a scholarship kid. No one's gonna miss her." That's when I understood. I was never more than their toy.

They tore up my textbooks, stuffed dead rats in my locker, spent six months tormenting me online and off. My mother couldn't take the vicious comments. Her heart gave out. And me? After I completely broke down, they drove me to the coastal cliffs.

Ice-cold water flooded my nose and mouth. Suffocation dragged me down into despair. I hate myself for being weak. Hate them for their arrogance. Hate this rotten system that treats people like me as disposable.

But when I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the night she pushed me toward him.

This time, I won't be fooled.

Three years after my pilot husband "died" in a plane crash, I walk in on him cutting a birthday cake for his three-year-old son backstage at the company memorial gala.

Luke freezes in the lounge, his hand still on the knife, staring at me.

His parents rush over to shield him. The same couple who screamed at me in the funeral home, wishing I'd died instead of him.

"Nora, just calm down. There's an explanation..."

Claire covers her slightly rounded belly, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry, Nora. My baby needs his father. Please, I'm begging you. I couldn't help myself—I love him."

I thought I'd break down. Thought I'd scream.

But all that guilt, all that self-blame, three years of missing him burns away the second I see the truth.

Nothing's left.

Two weeks before my due date, my husband Ethan is racing out the door into a stormy night.

All because his childhood friend Scarlett's apartment lost power, and she says her claustrophobia is kicking in.

I'm clutching my belly, telling him my water broke, begging him to look at the blood on the floor.

"You pulling this again? Last week wasn't enough? Scarlett's actually in danger."

He shakes off my hand. The door slams shut.

I'm standing in a pool of blood, watching his taillights disappear into the rain.

My baby won't have a father anymore.

"Don't call her a bitch, asshole," Sierra hissed.
"What's it got to do with you?" the greasy creep demanded.
"Oh, I don't know, Stimpy, maybe because you're harassing my woman and she just got here."
"Oh, shit, Orion. Sorry, man. Didn't realize she was with you."
Orion: As the heir apparent to the Primal Howlers' MC President patch, a chance encounter with a beautiful woman pulls me into a war I wasn't expecting that could bring the whole club down. But when she runs from me, I will pursue her to the end of the earth to find her and bring her back.
Whether she likes it or not.
Raquel: I moved to Monument, Colorado to write my thesis and get some much-needed distance from my overbearing family. What I didn't expect was to find myself hung up on a biker who appears to have nothing to lose.
I, however, have everything to lose and I'm worried Orion just might be my downfall.

Road to Joy
Join the members of the Dogs of Fire Motorcycle Club as they prepare for their Christmas Celebration. Revisit your favorite characters during the most festive holiday of the year.
Unwrapped
Christmas is approaching for the Dogs of Fire and Burning Saints Motorcycle Clubs, but rather than the usual holiday cheer, the air is filled with the tension of a brewing civil war.
The Gresham Spiders, a local 1% MC, is hellbent on expansion and both clubs lie directly in their path. Will assistance from an outside ally help diffuse the situation long enough to keep the peace during the holiday season?
Join Hatch and Minus, along with these two beloved MCs, as they celebrate the holidays and try to keep their clubs from splintering under the pressure.
Rocky Mountain Christmas
Mouse
There's only one gift I want this Christmas, but the closer I get to Kennedy, the more she pushes me away. I'll do whatever it takes to get onto her nice list, even if it means riding my bike all the way to the North Pole and strong-arming Santa myself.
Kennedy
I have two choices. Open myself up to a man who has the power to shatter me. Or run and protect my heart once and for all. The problem is, a murderous Douglas Fir gets in the way of my perfectly planned escape.
Is it a sign, or merely a roadblock on the path to finding true love?
And does a scrooge like me, even deserve to find herself under the mistletoe this Christmas?

I used to be the Blackwells' best killer. For him, I walked away from that life and became his wife. I even gave him a daughter.

I thought it was redemption. Turns out, it was the start of something worse.

Three years ago, during that shootout at the docks, his first love showed up with his bastard son. When the rival family put guns to both kids' heads, he didn't hesitate. He chose to save her son.

My daughter burned in the explosion.

That was the day the man I loved for ten years died. What's left is just my sworn enemy.

At the Met Gala, I heard my husband tell his friends in French that I'm "boring." That his 22-year-old girlfriend is "so much more exciting in bed."

He laughed when they asked if I knew. "Elle ne comprend même pas 'bonjour'." (She doesn't even understand 'bonjour'.)

What Marcus doesn't know: I spent two years at the Sorbonne.

Je comprends tout, Marcus. I understand everything.

The diamond necklace he gave me after my miscarriage suddenly feels too tight. I smile at him across the champagne and candlelight.

He has no idea what's coming.

Everyone says he loved me more than anything. So I chose to answer that love with death.

Forbes cover stories, tearful speeches at charity galas, shutting down Fifth Avenue every Valentine's Day just to watch fireworks with me. They said he ruled a business empire but would kneel in front of the entire world and call me his reason to live.

I used to believe it.

Until I discovered my perfect husband had built another home with another woman. A warm one, filled with laughter and his child.

So I chose to disappear the night the storm swallowed everything.

They say he spent three days on his knees at the cliff's edge, screaming my name into the black ocean. The man worth billions couldn't even find his wife's body.

When the rescue team recovered that burned-out car, he finally opened the safe I'd left for him. Inside was a positive pregnancy test and a divorce agreement that would never be signed.

By then, nothing mattered anymore.

At the bar, I watched Ethan get publicly dumped and made a crazy proposal fueled by liquid courage—a three-month fake dating contract.

I thought this was my only chance after twenty years of secret crushing. Until his ex showed me the text: "With Mia? Pretty convenient. She's been following me around since we were kids."

So I was just a tool.

The day we broke up, he shouted with red eyes: "I've been crazy about you for twenty years!" I thought he was acting, until his mom handed me a worn journal—

That careless comment I made at thirteen, "I'm never marrying Ethan," he'd remembered for twenty whole years.

Every page of that diary was filled with my name...

Three years after returning to the Duke's estate, I finally admit the truth: the phoenix I poured my heart into raising doesn't love me. He only spreads his brilliant tail feathers for the replacement.

I was six when traffickers took me, stuck in the slums for twenty years. A year after losing me, the Duke and Duchess adopted an infant from the church.

That girl became the new daughter, enjoying everything that should have been mine.

When they found me at twenty-six, my parents looked at me with guilt, yes, but mostly like I was a stranger. They loved the daughter they raised more.

I don't blame them.

Twenty years in the slums taught me: don't count on anyone's love. Only power and gold won't betray you.

So when he refused me for the third time, I went to the black market auction and bought a battered wolf slave.

The phoenix finally panicked, feathers flaring, voice shaking:

"Master, you promised you'd only keep one magical beast..."

Ethan and I grew up together. We were supposed to exchange rings at the altar, make our vows. But on our wedding day, he left me standing there to go save his so-called suicidal ex. Almost killed my parents from the shame.

Four years later, I'm back in Portland with my husband. The city isn't that big, and of course fate decides to throw him in my path again.

He has the nerve to ask me to be his mistress.

I hold up my left hand, the ring catching the light. "Are you blind?"

The day I get diagnosed with stage four lung cancer, I can finally stop selling plasma.

For five years, I thought I was paying for the fire that killed my parents and son, left my brother disabled. Selling plasma, joining drug trials, doing the worst jobs imaginable, all to pay back a debt that wasn't even real.

The doctor says I have a few weeks left. I clutch the diagnosis report and head home to tell them.

The moment I push open the door, I see my parents in the kitchen, the ones who supposedly died in the fire. My brother, who was supposed to be in a wheelchair, stands there raising a glass, laughing with my husband.

My brother shrugs like it's nothing. "The broken leg was fake the whole time. You were the only one hurt in the fire. We just wanted to teach you a lesson, make you appreciate things."

"We were going to tell you eventually." My husband pats my shoulder. "Go apologize to Vanessa. Stop giving her a hard time."

"All the money you gave us went to Vanessa," Dad says. "That's what you get for throwing your bio-daughter status in her face."

I touch the diagnosis in my pocket. Everything was a lie. The only truth is that I'm dying.

It's supposed to be our last class trip before graduation. The bus loses control on a mountain road and goes over the edge.

I think we're all going to die.

When I open my eyes again, I'm sitting in a classroom that looks like it's been rotting for decades.

A system alert blares through my skull:

【Welcome to Ravenwood High. Unnameable creatures roam the campus. Survive 7 days. Uncover the truth behind the campus Boss's death. Every player who dies adds $800,000 to the prize pool. Make it out, and the money is yours.】

Everyone loses it. Screaming, crying, total chaos. The first thing Brett does is shove me toward the door to check the hallway. Because of course he does. I'm the class punching bag. The girl nobody would miss.

Everyone assumes I'll be the first to die.

What nobody sees is the smile pulling at the corner of my mouth as I stand at that door, staring at whatever is writhing in the shadows of the hallway.

The night the team wins again, the roar inside the arena could raise the roof.

On the ice, the captain has his arm around the new cheer captain, spinning her under the lights. His skates cut clean lines across the ice. Teammates whistle and shout, someone yells "ask her out!", someone else films on their phone. Everyone waits for me to show up and make a scene. Cry, stumble onto the ice, drop to my knees and beg him to come back. Pathetic, like every time before.

But no one knows I'm in the back of the locker room right now, pressed against a cold metal locker.

The quiet backup player has his hand on the back of my neck, his voice barely steady. "You sure about this?"

I push up on my toes and kiss him first.

I'm two months pregnant with Tristan's baby when Brielle, the woman he'd do anything for, shoves me down the stairs.

She calls it an accident. I lose the baby.

I beg my husband to do something about it. Instead, he shields her and turns it around on me.

"Brielle saved my life in that fire. The whole Merrick family owes her. So drop it."

That debt. Always that debt.

Three years. No matter how many times Brielle humiliates me, degrades me, Tristan only ever has one answer: "I owe her my life."

But the truth about that fire? I'm the only one in the world who knows it.

I tried to tell him once. He laughed in my face. "Adeline, you're so desperate for attention you'd make up something like that?"

So I shut my mouth. Buried the truth. Buried whatever was left of my heart along with it.

The man I trusted with my life just handed my child to the woman who killed them, and called it loyalty.

I'm done.

I pull up the number I blocked three years ago and hit call.

"Dad. I'll take over the company. I'll go through with the engagement to Everett. But I have one condition. I want Tristan and Brielle ruined beyond recovery. Nothing and no one left."

Three years ago, I took a bullet for Damon Kingsley. It came within half an inch of my heart.

He looked me in the eyes, his own red, and swore he'd love me for the rest of his life. So I married into this century-old Italian-American Mafia dynasty.

But on our wedding night, the moment he touched me, he convulsed, coughed up blood, and collapsed.

The second time, an old condition flared up and kept him flat on his back for a month.

The third time, he nearly bled out.

Every time after that, the same thing.

The whole family called me a curse. Marked. Bad luck. The kind of woman who brings death to whoever gets close.

The Godmother gave me an ultimatum: get pregnant within a month, or sign the divorce papers and be shipped off to Chicago to marry the devil himself.

I was carrying a fertility tonic to his study, ready to beg him one more time, when I heard voices through the door.

"Mr. Kingsley, please, you gotta stop. Every time you don't wanna go near her, you shoot yourself up with that stuff. You're gonna kill yourself."

Damon was quiet for a long moment. Then, calm and flat: "Aurora is the only woman I love. I'd take the pain any day over touching her."

All this time, while the whole family called me a curse, the one who actually put it on me was the man I almost died for.

Damon Kingsley. After today, we're done. In this life or the next, don't ever cross my path again.