2460 Book(s) Related to siscon ani to brocon

"I want a divorce. "
The day before her third wedding anniversary, Fiona sees her husband walking to the obstetrics wing with his arm around his ex-girlfriend, Rowena. Rowena is pregnant.
Heartbroken, Fiona rejects Micah, her husband, her mate, the Lycan Prince of the Alastair Kingdom, and leaves the pack.

However, to Fiona’s surprise, after being rejected, Micah goes crazy looking for her all over the world.
Until one day, when he sees her walking down the street holding a little girl, he pins her against the wall.
“Is she my daughter?” Micah hisses.

On a stormy night, I, Freya Austen, the Alpha heiress, was secretly poisoned by my sister Tiffany. A towering figure loomed over me. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. His cock, hard as steel, thrust into my wet, aching pussy, each brutal slam hitting deep, shattering my willpower and driving me to collapse in endless waves of pleasure.
The last thing I remember was my father's hand across my face and his voice: "Get out of this pack."
Five years later, I'm back as Crystal, the jewelry designer every East Coast pack wants to hire. I have three kids now, and I want blood.
The moment I walk into Crown & Gem, I run straight into Alexander Reid—my ex-fiancé, the strongest Alpha.
"You're still just exiled trash," Tiffany says, hanging off Alexander's arm with that fake sweet smile. And Alexander's harder to read—ice cold one minute, almost uncertain the next.
Our world has simple rules: betrayers pay, and Alpha blood doesn't lie. I'm taking back everything they stole from me. Maybe even the Alpha who should have been mine—and the father who doesn't know his children exist.
To everyone who destroyed my life: I'm back. Ready to see what a she-wolf's revenge looks like?
（This book contains mature content. Not suitable for minors.）

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

"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?

The only sure thing in revenge is the beginning, the ending is uncertain. The truth can surprise you in ways you could never have imagined.

A sequel to His Booty Call.

Korey Wilson is a ruthless alpha, an alpha with no emotions, no heart, damn arrogant, just so cold gets his Luna... Bentley Janice. Bentley Janice, a pretty young lady gets chosen by the moon Goddess to be Korey's Luna. Korey gets annoyed because he would be having a human as his mate and there is nothing he could do, his weakness is her weakness, he became super arrogant towards her, but that never stopped her from loving him.

"Ever since the night, I kissed you... I find it hard to concentrate at work I tried my best but all I could find myself doing was thinking of you, craving to hold you, to touch you, to feel your lips once more... But I don't know what's stopping me" he rushed taking his last statement calmly

"if anyone ever told me I'd fall in love with you... I'd disbelieve, but now I think I am" he said breathlessly

"what are you going to do about it? "Jan asked

"Jan please.. please...stop oppressing me!" he said as she walked closer to him, his eyes fixed on the floor avoiding her eyes.

"Korey... I Love you, and I'd keep loving you no matter what"

Cara is out to get revenge on her parents murder and their stolen legacy. She uses Quinn to get her vengeance in a booty call agreement. Will she be able to win him over? Will she succeed in her plan? Will her plan go accordingly?

In the Shadow Realm, beings of the Light and the Darkness alike walk the marble-paved streets of Echelon, a city hidden from human eyes and ears where Mystics of every class are free to unmask and live as they please.

The city's heart beats like a heavy metal drum line and debauchery flows through its veins like blood. Music, sex, and drugs overflow from the numerous clubs and into the streets at most hours.

Malfizan, the powerful son of a desire demon and a minor goddess, serves both the court and Echelon's shady underbelly as the not-so-secret head of the city's most famous crime syndicate. Malfizan commands a hoard of demons and demi-gods who assist him in terrorizing human kind in the name of punishing them for evil done unto the Mystics.

He finds his thrilling life halted, suddenly, when Alchimia Nethi moves into the Palace and begins training to take over the city when her mother's reign ends in a few short decades. As fledgling Mystics centuries before, the pair had been class rivals.

Now, faced with the burden of befriending his least favorite enchantress in order to gain her trust and earn permission to resume normal activities, Mal struggles to hide the call he feels deep within his soul to reveal to Chimi that the Gods have declared her to be his soul bond and are pressing him to push for a marriage.

Matured content.

"Why...are.. you looking at me that way?" Emily stuttered.

"I want to kiss you so bad."

"I.I...me..."

Have you ever been lied to?

Have you ever tried to change someone?

Have you ever thought you knew someone but found out things were not how it seemed?

Emily Riverstone finds out that her new boyfriend happens to be the owner of a multi billionaire company and had been hiding his indentity from the world and even from her.

Will she be able to overcome the consequences that comes with knowing the truth or will it be the death of her.

Every night, my mother-in-law Margaret would make a special cup of hot cocoa just for me, a Harvard graduate—my husband and his younger brother never got this special treatment.
The night before my first bar exam, Margaret brought me my usual mug of hot cocoa as always.
But the next day, despite being perfectly healthy all my life, I blacked out right in the exam hall!
I missed out on finishing the test and failed outright. Meanwhile, my husband, who flunked every single law school class, somehow miraculously passed California’s notoriously brutal bar exam, widely regarded as the hardest in the country.
Margaret told me not to worry, saying I could just retake it the following year, and she kept making my nightly hot cocoa without fail every day after that.
When the second bar exam rolled around, my cousin was staying with us temporarily. She only wanted a tiny sip of my cocoa, yet Margaret screamed at her, calling her shameless.
This time, sharp, crippling abdominal pains hit me the second I stepped into the exam room, and I had to rush to the hospital for emergency care.
Once again, I failed the exam. My cousin, who’d only attended a community college, shocked everyone by walking away with a full attorney’s license.
The whole family celebrated nonstop, and I was the butt of everyone’s jokes.
I couldn’t wrap my head around why my body would break down in every possible way whenever bar exam season rolled around.
Heading into my third attempt at the bar, I told myself this was my last shot—I could not afford to let my guard down for even a second.
But the night before the exam, my mother-in-law showed up at my door yet again, holding a warm mug of bedtime hot cocoa just for me…

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.

A short contemporary domestic-drama romance. Clean to sweet. Happily ever after.

My husband's family slid the folder across the table — sign here, family helps family, it's just a signature.

What they didn't know: I had almost three million dollars in an account none of them could find. I silenced the alert before the number could glow.

They think we're the broke ones. For four years they've bled the kindest man I know dry, dressing every demand up as love and cashing it. So I let them keep believing it — and I built a wall they will never see.

They're about to find out what happens when you spend a lifetime underestimating the quiet one.

And this time, I'm not the one who pays.

In the sixth year of my life as a Scale-Stripper, I finally gathered the hundredth vial of Dragon Breath Essence.

I knelt before the altar, cradling the crystal bottle in both hands. The golden light swirling within it cast a warm glow across my scarred knuckles. Six years — six years of wandering the most dangerous battlefields of the Five Clans and the plague-ridden wastelands, using dragon breath to heal the wounded. For every person I saved, I had peeled away a living scale from my own flesh, baring the raw, bleeding meat beneath.

Seven scales left on my back.

Only seven.

But as long as it saved my brother Lucien, it was worth it.

Six years ago, during the Dragon Slaughter War, our parents had been assassinated by humans. An ancient curse had struck Lucien; his scales were crumbling away, day by day. He told me that only a hundred vials of Dragon Breath Essence could break the curse.

I held the crystal bottle out to him, my voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "Lucien, a hundred vials. We finally have enough."

Lucien took the bottle and glanced at it.

Then he tossed it off the altar without a second thought.

I went rigid.

Lucien stood at the top of the altar.

"I was never cursed," he said.

My hands were still cupped in the shape of holding the bottle, all ten fingers suspended in midair.

"Our parents never died, either."

"The Dragon Slaughter War six years ago, I planned it. The only one left crippled, with broken wings, was you."

I'm an OB-GYN. On Valentine's Day, I pulled a ring out of a woman's vagina.

It turned out to be my husband's wedding ring.

An hour before, he'd texted me. Said he loved me. Said he was too busy with work to come home.

I wanted a divorce. Needed one. But then I found out—our marriage was never registered.

In his manor, I was nothing. Just a fake wife.

He grabbed me by the throat—right in front of his mistress. Called me "damaged goods." Said I'd spent a year in another man's house.

But that year, I went as a hostage in his place.

I ran. Made it to the cliff's edge, covered in blood. And the man who saved me? The mafia godfather who'd held me captive that whole year.

He looked at me. "Marry me."

I swear, I hate my husband.

At my birthday party, my husband whispered to his mistress in French that he missed her. His voice was low, but I heard it all—the black lingerie, the bit about how pregnancy makes you more sensitive. His French clients around us were laughing. He turned and put his arm around me, claiming he was just helping his clients come up with sweet nothings.

He doesn't know I understand every single word. Just like he doesn't know that inside my body, I'm carrying his other surprise. And his mistress—she's pregnant too. Two wombs, one secret.

Confrontation would be too cheap. Tears are worthless. I quietly started cataloging the hidden networks my father left behind, activating the Swiss accounts.

In seven days, Zoey Smith will cease to exist. And what will my husband's reaction be?

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!

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 am Seraphine Marchwood. For five years, I gave every piece of myself to Alpha Veyron, convinced our mate bond was fated—until the night I accidentally overheard the truth.
He never wanted me as his mate. The entire proposed bond was nothing but a cover, a farce to hide his scandalous affair with Ophelia, the woman he actually loved. She was carrying his pup, and I was just the disposable, respectable shield to keep his reputation untarnished.
I ran that night, blind with grief and rage, until I crashed through the rotting beams of an old, rain-soaked ruin. The last thing I remembered before blacking out was the taste of blood in my mouth, and the sound of his voice calling my name, too late.
When I woke up, I didn’t recognize him.
And for the first time since I’d known him, he looked terrified. The cold, unshakable Alpha who’d cast me aside without a second thought was panicking, desperate, scrambling to bring back the version of me that had loved him more than anything—even as a new, unforeseen path began to unfurl before me.

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!

I put up with my husband's cheating because I needed money for my brother's medical bills.

Until I found the heart donor report he'd been hiding in his study for three months. 98% match. He'd signed it "postpone."

That night, fireworks filled the London sky, his mistress laughing in the background. Standing over my brother's body, I finally got it—he'd been killing my brother all along.

I ripped up his check, sold every piece of jewelry he'd ever given me, and threw the divorce papers in his face.

"Murderer"—that's all I said.

Three years later, I'm getting a standing ovation at the Golden Hall. He shows up in the snow, eyes red, begging for forgiveness.

I just smiled. "Charles, you died three years ago."

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.

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

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

I know it’s wrong. He’s off-limits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

My daughter helped my husband cheat.

My ten-year-old begged me to take her to a summer camp in Italy. My husband looked at her like she hung the moon. Booked the tickets right there.

I thought I was the luckiest mom alive.

Then I checked the pet camera from overseas.

There he was, fucking my daughter's riding instructor on our couch.

But what really killed me? What he said, "Don't worry. Nina wants that horse bad enough, she'll keep her mom in Europe as long as we need."

Back home, my husband dropped a receipt. Two identical limited edition watches.

He froze. My sweet daughter didn't miss a beat, "Dad used the other one to bribe someone so I could get my horse!"

They lied in perfect sync. That's when something in me broke.

They thought I was still that stupid, trusting wife.

What they didn't know?

I'd already signed a contract. Going back to my art career in New York.

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.

In order to rush to comfort his assistant whose apartment was leaking, Richard signed his name hastily without even glancing at the documents on the table.
I put away the divorce agreement with a wry smile.
When he and my son completely disappeared, he finally panicked.
Three months later .
He knelt down on the streets of Chicago in despair, begging me to remarry him.
My six-year-old son looked coldly at his biological father and said, "Get lost, you bad uncle! You don't deserve to be my dad!"

“Do you have a condom?”

“No, I don’t, but I don’t have to fuck you to make you come.”

My back to his chest with one arm around my waist massaging my breast and the other arm rising to my neck.

"Try not to make any noise.", he slid his hand under the elastic of my leggings.

Leah is a 25-year-old that was adopted. After the divorce, she was entangled with three different men.

This contemporary, real-world erotic romance novel follows Leah, a recently divorced young woman. She is at a crossroads with her past and unforeseen future. With a push from her best friend, she sets out on an empowering journey of self-discovery through the exploration of her sexual desires. As she navigates this uncharted territory, she encounters three captivating love interests, each offering a unique perspective on passion and intimacy. Amidst the multi-perspective drama of emotional highs and lows, Leah’s naïve tendencies lead her into multiple unexpected twists and turns that life throws in her direction. With every encounter, she uncovers the complexities of intimacy, passion, and self-love, ultimately transforming her outlook on life and redefining her understanding of happiness. This suspenseful and erotic tale invites readers to reflect on their desires and the importance of self-acceptance in a world that often imposes limiting beliefs.

Rejected by my soulmate, I sought solace in the arms of a stranger whose magnetic presence I couldn’t resist. In a night of passion, I unknowingly surrendered to the King of the Werewolves. Now, carrying the heir to his throne, I’m torn between resisting his hypnotic pull and protecting the fragile bond forming between us. Shadows threaten our lives at every turn, while each encounter with the King tests my resolve. Will love conquer duty, or will the weight of his crown doom us to heartbreak?

Hidden my true identity as a seer


My mom was a witch, or rather, an ex-witch. She had given up her powers for my dad. I inherited her blood witch power and have a special identity, a seer.

But this powerful role brings me much trouble rather than luck. Every day, I put on my contacts and wig to hide my special eye and hair colour which are symbols of a seer. If I were found, I would be killed. So I need to be very carefully

As a seer, by touching other people’s skin, I could see some visions.

Today, my boss asked me to accompany a client. I touch his hand and find he is a damn shit, Wolf!

And he said I am his Mate！

Antonella has always attracted everyone around her with her surreal beauty and allure. Surrounded by sycophants, she finally manages to make a loyal friend, Fanny, who was bullied for having disabilities.

Fanny was a great friend, but she also had four brothers who soon met the famous Antonella, leaving her burning with desire.

Nobody knew about Antonella's relationship with the four beautiful and naughty bad boys. She had fun with them, doing crazy things together, and experiencing everything that pleasure can bring.

#Reversedharem

In the heart of moonlit nights and hidden secrets lies "Skylight," a gripping tale of love and betrayal. When a seasoned werewolf hunter finds herself entangled in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with the notorious werewolf she's been tasked to capture, unexpected emotions begin to surface. As forbidden feelings blossom between predator and prey, they must confront their deepest desires and conflicting loyalties. Dive into a world where boundaries blur and choices must be made in the shadows of the moon

"Don't come near her again. That is a warning you must not transgress."
"Who the hell you are to say that, huh?!"
Darth stepped closer. "Because she's mine. And I don't share my property with anyone."
"Don't look at him. I'm just here," Darth stated gently to me.
UNHESITANTLY, Darth kissed me


As the wheel of fate keeps rolling, two lovers in the previous life meet again.

Hera, a painter who was crazy for wolgans since her childhood. She liked to collect everything about wolgans for no reason, just like wolgan is part of her life and she couldn’ t live without it. Among all of the wolgans, she picked the red wolgan most. One day, she came to met a new man in the town and something magical happened.

Darth Lancelot, the red dragon-wolf better known as red wolgan—a werewolf with dragon blood, has been stuck in the mortal world for two hundred years. Somehow he keeps being summoned by a human girl to save her from danger. And he found that he was deeply attracted by the girl and felt jealous when someone else stood beside her.

She is his property.
And he doesn't share his property with anyone

Three brothers. Three legacies. Three women who will bring them to their knees.

Where blood stains the golden streets and sin is the only currency that matters, the Gray family reigns with iron fists and dark souls. They are the Wicked Heirs—born into power, raised in violence, and destined to rule the Brotherhood with an iron hand.

They don't ask for forgiveness. They know no mercy. They don't know how to lose.

Until them.

Three women storm into their lives like hurricanes—fierce, fearless, demanding. One steals the heart of the heir to the throne with nothing but a whisper. Another awakens the most primal instinct in a man who never believed in love, all while hiding a secret that could destroy them both. And the third... the third is pure fire, the only woman unafraid of the man who terrifies everyone else.

They don't ask for permission. They don't follow rules. They don't take no for an answer.

And these untouchable men—who never flinched at the sight of a gun, who never knelt before anyone—will learn the most dangerous lesson of all:

Desire is stronger than honor.
Forbidden love is the most addictive of all.
And the most dangerous war they'll ever fight... is for them.

Born in sin.
Raised in blood.
They rule through violence.
And love with devotion.

Three stories of love so forbidden it could set the entire mafia ablaze.

Welcome to the family.
Where desire is the only truth.
And love is the most dangerous war of all.

When the apocalyptic red rain fell, my brother and I both awakened spatial abilities.

He awakened a space as vast as a mansion and was hailed by the entire family as their savior.

While I only awakened a "suitcase" and was ruthlessly drained of all my assets by my parents to support my brother, then kicked out of the house.

They mocked me cruelly: "We don't keep deadweights. Go wait for death in the 70-degree furnace outside!"

What they didn't know was that my brother's space had no preservation function—his stockpile of premium ingredients would soon rot into a pile of maggot-infested meat.

But my suitcase had upgrade attributes!

While they fought each other over a sip of putrid green water in the 200-degree hellscape,

I sat in the "Eden" I had created, watching herds of cattle and sheep, drinking ice-cold fresh milk.

Two hundred million dollars—that was the price tag on my soul.

I stood on the auction block, chains biting into my wrists, while men in masks bid on me like I was cattle. I thought my life was over. Then he spoke. "Two hundred million."

Alpha Damian Wolfe. The King of the City. The man who kills without blinking.

He didn't buy me to free me. He bought me to keep me.

"You belong to me now, Selene," he whispered, dragging me into his world of blood and silk. He locked me in a gilded cage, dressed me in couture, and forced me to watch him execute traitors at galas. He is a monster. But God, he is a beautiful one.

I tried to run. I tried to fight him. But every time I pushed, he pulled harder.

"I need you to mark me," I begged him one night, desperate for protection from the Council. I stood in his room, bare and vulnerable, offering him my neck.

He refused. "I won't mark you because you need saving," he growled, his eyes burning with dark hunger. "I'll mark you when you are strong enough to carry the weight of my soul."

But before that day could come, I was taken. Snapped right out from under his nose by a ghost named Mark.

Now I sit in chains again, but this time, it's different. Because I know Damian is coming. And he’s not coming to negotiate. He’s coming to burn the world down.


Selene lost everything in a single night—her pack, her father, her freedom. Dragged to an underground auction, she expects death. Instead, she is bought by the most dangerous Alpha in Italy, Damian Wolfe. He doesn't want a slave; he needs a fake Luna to solidify his power. But Selene isn't the type to submit. Locked in his fortress, she discovers that being the Alpha's property might be safer than being free... until she realizes that the only thing more dangerous than his enemies is the way he looks at her. Will she escape his golden cage, or will she become the Queen of his criminal empire?