400 Book(s) Related to janet dailey texas series

"Are you afraid of me?" He said, dropping his hand from my arm and wrapping it around my waist.

"I-I d-don't, I-I c-can't." I struggled to speak but I couldn't get any words out.

He let go of me and raked his hand through his hair.

"What is it about you?" He asked and grazed my cheeks with his fingers lightly. "Sorry birdie but I can't stop myself anymore. I'm going to kiss you now.”


Emily Chesterfield is a shy and innocent nerd. Her life changes drastically when she begins her junior year. She attracts the attention of the school's bad boy and billionaire's son, Ace Hilton. However, that is not all as she also attracts the attention of a criminal syndicate. What happens when she falls for the bad boy who is trying to keep her safe from the criminal syndicate?

Five years. Five years I gave everything to Paxton Sterling—my heart, my body, my wolf's soul. I built his empire as Chief Strategy Officer while wearing his mark like a badge of honor.

Then she came back.

Layla—my pure-blooded half-sister with her perfect smile and poison tongue. Within days of her return from Europe, Paxton was ready to throw me away like yesterday's news.

"I want to sever our bond, Freya. Lyra is my true mate."

Wrong move, Alpha.

He thinks I'm just another submissive mate who'll quietly disappear. He's forgotten I'm a mixed-blood Alpha who's been playing nice for far too long. While he's busy playing house with my backstabbing sister, Lucas Morgan—the most dangerous Alpha in the territory—is making me an offer I can't refuse.

Paxton wants to discard me? Fine.

But he's about to learn that some women don't just walk away—they burn everything down on their way out.

I'm done being the good girl. Done being the perfect mate. Done hiding what I really am.

I can't believe this is happening to me. I have lived through actual Hell, but I didn't think it would be that bad when I filed for divorce. When I got home around noon on Friday from my nerve-wracking trip to the courthouse, little did I know that my abusive husband, Shane, was already lying in wait for me. He knew what I did, and I was about to find out the hard way.

"What makes you think you are going to get rid of me??!" Shane yelled and then punched me square in the face. I delicately held my face as he grabbed both of my shoulders and kneed me in the face, causing me to fall to the floor. How could my life get any worse than that?! Oh, wait, my ex was an asshole and didn't care about anyone else but himself. "I will make it to where you're not able to sign your name unless I do it for you," Shane spouted at me, lying there helpless, then he broke my arm. Talk about life as a living Hell, no wait, this was worse!

I later woke up in the hospital, not sure of my surroundings. Did Shane actually get arrested? It took some convincing, but I finally managed to get discharged, so I could get to a place I thought I might be safe, back at home, as long as my ex-ass didn't get released.

It took all my strength to stand when I fell right in the path of an oncoming vehicle. Well, this is it, I thought to myself. Life is short and full of pain.

"Are you alright?!" I heard the sexiest voice one could ever hear. Talk about love at first sound! "Devon, get the door! We're taking her with us!"

"It was a mistake! I apologized already," feeling so terrified as I moved backward.

"You should have known me better than this, little sparrow," He chuckled deeply, his gaze fixed on me.

"Lucas please!" I cried, now stopped by the wall as my heart beats faintly.

"Don't worry it's just a little game, you and I will play, you'll love it, little sparrow," He smirked.

I knew this was a trick, Ben lied when he said he wouldn't hurt me and I stupidly fell into the trap.

Now, I was alone with him and in his room.

I think this is the time for me to announce my funeral...

"Strip!" His cold voice snapped me out,as he stared at me with a deadpan expression while I gazed at him in ultra shock.


Camilla Evans is a gentle nerd in her finals at Watermark Highschool. As a nerd, the stereotypical notion of her wearing thick rimmed glasses, out-of-vogue clothes and shoes which were eighty percent of the time, twice her size still stands.

Having been at the bottom of the food chain in Watermark Highschool, Camilla was liable to predators and the most annoying one of them all went by the name, Lucas Liam.

Camilla had no idea why the hottest guy in school would even spare her a glance not to mention actually spending the whole day bullying and teasing her to no end.

Could there be something else to these false acts of bully and teases from Lucas?

Find out what happens when the Cheerleader, Jenny Layton put Camilla's life at stake?

Will she be able to handle all the torments she's passing through especially when her mum died and her sister left her behind?

"We must stop!" She breathed out and removed her wrists from his hold. She straightened her dress and began to walk away.
"How long do you think you'll be able to run away from me? I'll catch up to you eventually." He replied.

There was an ominous demonic glare in her angelic eyes. They said she was nothing but the darkness, a living embodiment of terror. She was the assassin, roaming across centuries, killing and hiding. She had known blood and death her entire life, but what she didn't know was that the biggest battle awaited her, one with her soul and her mate.

Lycan Prince Aiden, heir to the Kingdom of Werewolves, the fated Alpha King. Everything would change after he found her, his moon-blessed Luna. Would he be ready for the storm and darkness brought along with her? Meant to bend himself to her will and desires, both of their fates will be twisted into unexpected accord.

"I, Kiara Vane, reject you, Alpha Liam!"

Kiara was the Westland Pack’s greatest joke: a blind, wolfless Luna married to a man who loathed her very existence. Pushed to suicide by her own twin sister’s betrayal and her mate’s cold-blooded cruelty, she was meant to be a forgotten footnote in history.

But the history books lied.

Cassandra, a feisty 21st-century student with a sharp tongue and a heart of steel, finds herself sucked into the cursed pages of an ancient text. She wakes up in the past, inhabiting the body of the "Dead Luna" under a blood-red moon.

But there’s a catch: this version of Kiara can see. And she isn't crying for mercy anymore.

Alpha Liam is a monster who swore to destroy the pack's traitors to avenge his mother’s death. He expected a broken, sightless girl he could easily crush.

Instead, he finds a defiant queen who looks at him with mockery instead of longing… a woman who seems to know his secrets before he even speaks them.

As Cassandra navigates a world of silver blades, ancient witchcraft, and a mate bond that burns with a dangerous new hunger, she has only one goal: make them all pay.

But as the "wolfless" girl begins to show the heart of a dragon, the predator slowly becomes the prey.

Liam is no longer looking for revenge… he’s looking for the woman who stole his soul.

But one question haunts the entire pack:

If the real Kiara died that night under the red moon… then who… exactly… is the woman wearing her face?

"What do you want? Ask me." I whisper against her cheek, kissing the warm skin there. I feel my cock pushing through my pants with wild desire, my body begging, pleading, but I take a deep breath, controlling myself.

"I want you to take me somewhere..."

"What else?" I feel her soft hands slide down my arms to my wrists, she moans softly and I restrain myself at the surreptitious way she's giving herself away.

"I don't want you to stop touching me like this, I want you to feel it and praise me for being so wet right now."

At the age of 22, Dakota's life had already gone through so many ups and downs that she took a drastic step that cost her family and her dreams. Now in New York, sharing an apartment with her best friend, she finds the remnants of her anguish still alive. Thoughts of uncertainty and the feeling that she is missing out on her best period torment her every night.

On one of these nights, fate gives her a hot experience with a mysterious, much older man who will not leave Dakota's thoughts for a long time... The future is a mystery, but her new job in a multinational company will manage to shake up her life with new responsibilities and a new pair of blue eyes. Dakota thinks it would be a good idea to dive into them, after all, the man behind the black hair and tall stature is popular, a good and communicative company. Still, the man doesn't seem to be enough, he lacks his father's gray eyes, mystery, seriousness and maturity. Doubt is immoral, her feelings are too dangerous. Perhaps Dakota's biggest mistake is to hold on to something her heart and body are pushing her so hard to do. Maybe she is different because she is truly sure of what she wants, contrary to what she believes. Could they keep her most secret desires at bay?

"You are naked," Josh commented.

"No-no… I…" she began to stutter, earning a small smile from Josh. "I am not."

"Come out from the stream then," he said with a lopsided smirk, moving dangerously closer to her.


Born of the lowest rank, Olivia has suffered greatly as an Omega Werewolf. After facing a pack attack, she was saved by a strange man who sold her off to be a slave. As she begins serving as a slave for a werewolf pack, she is captured by rogues.

After finally escaping from a group of dangerous rogues, she finds herself facing rejection yet again when she learns that she is mated to the Cursed Alpha, Josh who is the most feared, ruthless, and deadliest werewolf in the world.

Josh ruled with an iron hand, was merciless and dangerous just the way he wanted it. He knew he had no chance at love, and discovering he had a mate was out of the question. Mates are weaknesses, and his parents were the perfect example of why he should not be mated. Then, what was the Moon Goddess thinking, mating him with an Omega?

They say some secrets are meant to stay buried.

I used to believe that too—until Roman Aldridge walked back into my life fifteen years later, no longer the broken thirteen-year-old boy I once held through his darkest nights, but a devastatingly handsome man who looked at me like I was his salvation and his damnation all at once.

"I've never stopped loving you, Vivian."

Those seven words shattered the carefully constructed walls I'd built around my heart. Because the truth? I'd never stopped loving him either.

Fifteen years ago, I was his dead mother's replacement—a twenty-three-year-old political advisor tasked with caring for a grieving child. I held him when he cried, watched him grow, and somewhere along the way, developed feelings that terrified me so much I fled Seattle like my life depended on it.

Now I'm back. Divorced, desperate, and apparently still weak enough to melt under those same dark eyes that once looked at me with innocent adoration but now burn with a man's desire.

The scandal writes itself: Governor Candidate's Son Seduces Former Caregiver. Or is it the other way around? Does it matter when the entire world thinks you're a predator who groomed the boy you were supposed to protect?

Roman doesn't care about the headlines. He doesn't care that loving me could destroy his political future, his relationship with his father, everything he's worked for. He says he'd rather burn the whole world down than live without me.

The problem is, I believe him.

And God help me, I think I might let him.

Because sometimes, the most forbidden love is the only one worth fighting for.

Even if it means that a woman falls in love with the child she once nurtured.

I died—not in the way you'd expect, but slowly, painfully, while he was entangled with her.

He called her his savior, the woman who sold everything to rescue his failing empire. Little did he know, it was my money, my life's work, that he squandered.

The betrayal burned hotter than any flame, and I vowed he'd pay.

Now, he's gone—a leap from the heights he once ruled, his fall as swift as his rise.

When my husband handed the project I bled for to his "depressed" childhood sweetheart, he told me to be mature. "You're my wife. You shouldn't care about the credit."

So, when I was in the hospital miscarrying our baby while he threw her a party, I didn't cry. When she posted selfies wearing my anniversary necklace, I didn't scream.

Julian thought he had finally broken me into the perfect, obedient housewife. He truly believed I was nothing without him.

What a pathetic joke.

He had no idea his entire "business empire" was secretly kept alive by my family's trust fund.

He certainly didn't know the "mundane paperwork" he blindly signed this morning was my resignation—and our divorce agreement.

At our seventh wedding anniversary dinner, my husband Nathan audaciously discussed the name of the child his mistress Victoria was carrying, speaking in Spanish right in front of me.
They presumed I could not understand. Yet, not only did I comprehend every word, but I had also long ago uncovered evidence of their affair—including those passionate videos filmed in his car...
But when I vanished completely, he went into a frenzy.
When the news of the 'plane crash' broke, he spent fifty million dollars, deploying twelve rescue helicopters to search relentlessly through the storm for seven days and nights.
When the rescue team informed him that 'there were no survivors,' this once indomitable man knelt on the deck, weeping inconsolably like a child who has lost his mother.
Little did he know, there was no trace of me on that 'lost' plane.
And now, it was my turn to make him experience the true meaning of loss.

I spent two years alongside the Mafia don, serving as his most obedient secretary and most transparent wife, watching as he bestowed all his tenderness upon his shining muse. With great effort, I deceived him into signing the divorce papers and, turning away, fled to war-torn Syria, carrying his child within me. I believed I would never cross paths with him again, until one day, drenched in blood, he knelt amidst the rubble, desperately clawing at the stones, screaming my name. It was only after I left that he truly understood the meaning of loss...

I was forced by my father to fulfill an arranged engagement with an Alpha I'd never met face-to-face. Pushing open the jewelry store door, I found my fiancé Kane spoiling his childhood sweetheart Briar, who was trying to snatch my mother’s ring. "Security! Get this stray out of here!" Briar screamed, pointing at me. When I revealed my identity, Kane sneered coldly: "What bullshit pact? I would never marry a woman like you." Briar snatched the ring and threw water at my face: "Kneel down and beg me to give it back!" When I fought back, Kane exploded in rage: "How dare you touch my woman? Hold her down!" Four warriors pinned me down as Briar laughed cruelly: "Let everyone see this delusional bitch who doesn't know her place!" They stepped on my hand while Kane watched coldly, even urging her on: "Hurry up, let her learn her lesson." Just as she was about to chop off my finger with a knife, the door suddenly burst open—"Do you have any idea whose daughter you're humiliating?"

I died on my 28th birthday.

My family was throwing a birthday party for my sister Stella—yes, we share the same birthday, but in this house, only hers was worth celebrating.

My corpse was slowly rotting in the storage room while laughter and birthday songs echoed from the living room. They thought I was just "throwing another tantrum," completely unaware of the torment I had endured before dying.

The irony was crushing: I had spent five years ghostwriting musical compositions for her, making her the "genius composer" everyone adored. Meanwhile, I—the real creator—was dismissed as nothing more than a jealous older sister.

By the time they finally discovered my body, guided by the stench of decay, it was far too late.

But death was only the beginning of my revenge.

Every single person who had hurt me would pay the price.

Including those I loved most.

When I opened my eyes once more and beheld the familiar glint of scheming in my sister's gaze, I knew—she had also been reborn.

In my past life, she shattered the souls of my child and me with a forbidden moonlight ritual, driven solely by envy of my perfect partner and healthy heir. In my dying moments, I saw no remorse in her eyes, only a twisted satisfaction.

In this life, she still seeks to seize everything from me—my fiancé, my child.

This time, I have chosen the one whom everyone scorns as the "exile."

They call him a monster, curse him, and claim that any woman who unites with him will bear only deformed beasts.

What they fail to comprehend is that as I lay on the brink of death, it was he whose golden eyes reflected the anguish of despair. What they know even less is the secret I harbor—one that even I scarcely believe.

My dear sister, do you desire the perfect heir? Do you yearn for supreme power?

Come, then.

Let us see how long your hypocritical facade can endure when the blood moon rises again, and all discover the true "monster."

I was but eighteen when I found myself captivated by my best friend’s brother.

At twenty-one, I mustered the courage to confess my feelings. He welcomed me into his bed but never once into his heart.

For three long years, I reassured myself: "Just a little while longer. He will see me in due time."

Then Stella returned—the girl he had always yearned for, even while his hands roamed my body in the shadows.

He greeted her return with champagne and candlelight, and then, locking his gaze upon me amidst a gathering, he coldly declared:

"You crawled into my bed and offered yourself. Don't you see how cheap and pitiable you appear?"

I raised my eyes, meeting his once more.

"I shall no longer trouble you."

I retrieved my phone, navigated to a contact I had seldom engaged—my betrothed by arrangement—and typed: "I consent to the marriage."

Minutes before the Stanford Hackathon began, my childhood friend decided to bail to help his girlfriend shoot a TikTok video.

I was just about to stop him when his inner voice suddenly exploded in my head: 'I actually got reborn?'

'Last time, I listened to Maeve and stayed for the competition, securing my spot at Stanford. But Sloane went to Malibu alone to shoot her video and fell off a cliff!"

'Even though I pushed Maeve off a roof to avenge her, I still lost the love of my life.'

'This time, I'm not losing Sloane. If Maeve dares to stop me again, I'll make her pay with her life all over again!'

My blood ran cold, and the words of persuasion died in my throat.

If he wanted his tragic romance so badly, he could have it.

On the eve of the violin competition, I was dragged into the basement and tormented for three excruciating hours, my hands shattered by iron rods, rendering me incapable of ever playing again.

As I lay in the hospital awaiting emergency care, I discovered the truth: it was my own father who had hired the assassins to ruin me; it was my fiancé who deliberately delayed my surgery, aiming to leave me permanently disabled; and ultimately, it was my pampered sister, cherished by the entire family, who had set fire to gasoline with the intent to burn me alive.

Fifteen years ago, a sorcerer had proclaimed that my sister was the 'blessing' of the Winslow family, while I, through my very existence, was deemed a 'curse' that needed to be eradicated.

Due to this absurd prophecy, I became the target of my family's ambition to be rid of me.

They wished for my demise, yet I am determined to survive — to witness them pay the price for their choices today.

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

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

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

We were banished, torn apart by rogues.

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

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

I won't expose him this time.

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

On our fifth anniversary, my Mafia Don husband kissed my cheek, then switched to Corsican to tell our adopted daughter how much he enjoyed getting her pregnant piece by piece.

He didn't know I spoke seven languages. Corsican included.

He didn't know that in three days, I would vanish — no body, no trail, no goodbye.

When I disappeared, he lost his mind.

Now it was my turn to teach him what losing someone really meant.

The child I brought into this world through sheer determination now calls my husband's mistress "mother"; the youth who slew my father for my sake and was imprisoned, now confines me beyond the threshold, forcing me to hear his carnal symphony with his stepmother. Only then did I comprehend: the sixteen-year-old boy who committed patricide for me had long perished within the prison walls.

I knelt on the ground as my husband forcefully pried my fingers from his clothing, coldly uttering the words: "Get rid of this child."

This was my third child, a flesh and blood connection to him, yet for the sake of the white moonlight in a wheelchair, he plunged me into the depths of hell.

My in-laws remained indifferent, my husband betrayed me, and even my own parents cried out, “This child cannot be kept.”

I could not comprehend why a stranger confined to a wheelchair could dictate the fate of my child with a single phrase. Why did she, each time she entered that church, seal my child's fate?

It was not until the day she perished in a self-immolation within the church that I stepped inside and truly understood. Her confession, my loss, our collective suffering—all were intricately woven into a carefully orchestrated scheme spanning over a decade.

I thought I had the perfect life.

A mansion in Westport, a successful husband, a beautiful daughter. Sixteen years of marriage that seemed unbreakable.

Until I found another woman's watch band in my husband's car.

Until I discovered that woman was my daughter's soccer coach.

Until I realized my nine-year-old daughter was helping her father lie to me.

Some betrayals strike like lightning. Others seep in like slow poison, until you discover your entire world is a lie.

When I stood on the platform at our annual community barbecue, armed with evidence and burning with rage, I understood a truth that would have destroyed the woman I used to be:

Sometimes the only way to save your family is to destroy it first.

When my husband pushed the divorce papers in front of me for the hundredth time, demanding I sacrifice myself for my sister, I didn't cry or make a scene. I simply signed my name, willingly giving up the man I'd loved for eight years to Ivy.

A few days later, Ivy got drunk and drove into a state senator's only son during a street race, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down. Once again, I stepped forward to take the blame and bear all the consequences.
When they later suggested I donate my kidney to Ivy, I readily agreed.

Mom and Dad said I'd finally grown into a mature and responsible sister.

Even my cold husband stood by my hospital bed and, for the first time in so long, gently stroked my cheek. He whispered, "Don't be afraid. The surgery will be a success. When you recover, we'll go traveling."

But he didn't know that whether the surgery succeeded or not, I wouldn't be going anywhere with him.

Because I was already terminally ill, with little time left.

I was the most revered pureblood Light heir.

In my past life, I married the Supreme Holy Knight, Arthur, only to give birth to an Ash-blood cub—the lowest of all.

In a rage, he incinerated my baby alive. He then dragged my bleeding, postpartum body into a saltwater dungeon to drain my magic, leaving me to be devoured by venomous insects.

Meanwhile, my lowly Ash-blood sister miraculously birthed a Light-blood cub. Stepping on my corpse, she became the realm's new ruler.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at our Mate-Selection Ceremony. Arthur publicly rejected me and chose my sister.

Seeing his smug, calculating smirk, I knew immediately: he had been reborn, too.

But how could a parasitic knight, who survived entirely by draining his wife's magic to fake a holy bloodline, ever father a supreme dragon?

I died on my birthday.

While kidnappers shattered my limbs and violated me to death, my family was throwing a grand party for my sister Chloe—yes, we shared the same birthday, but only hers was worth celebrating.

I called my father for help. He sneered and hung up: "Stop using this pathetic kidnapping stunt to ruin Chloe's birthday."

I called my fiancé Mark. He said with disgust: "If you're going to die, do it somewhere far away."

In the final second before the flames consumed me, I finally understood—

I was never loved in this family.

And now that I'm truly dead, now that they've discovered Chloe hired those men to kill me, now that the truth has been exposed to the world...

Will they regret it?

Or will they, as always, continue to favor Chloe and blame everything on me—the dead one?

I was the reincarnation of the Ancient Star God and the fated mate of the Obsidian Dragon King, Ignis.

For seven years, I nearly bled my divine blood dry to break his curses. Everyone knew I loved him unconditionally.

Until his cold sneer shattered it all.

"Seraphina has laid my egg. After the Hunting Festival, I'll crown her as my queen. Keep Elara around to placate the Alliance. She's so madly in love with me, she'll gladly be a shield for them."

Something snapped deep within my chest. My empathy veins—the very magic that bound my emotions to him—shattered.

No heartbreak. No hysteria. That suffocating love was erased in an instant. Looking at Ignis now was like looking at a worthless stone.

I calmly returned to the temple and activated the marriage decree sent by the Elven High King, Aurelius.

The realm portal was charging. Departure: three days.

I severed our Mate Bond with my own hands.

In that moment, I lay unconscious, bleeding under the silvery moonlight, while he knelt some distance away, clutching his chest as if he had been hollowed out.

Once, he shielded me from nine silver stakes, only to crown another woman; he placed my protective pendant around her neck, then cast me into a water prison. He professed, “I love only you,” yet stood outside my hospital room, nursing her child as if it were his own.

I loathed him, resolved to leave.

I believed this was the end.

Little did I know, as I thought I had finally gained my freedom, he would chase after the debts of blood and regret, intruding upon the new life I was rebuilding—

To redeem a love that no longer sought redemption.

When the armored car had room for only one passenger, Damian Russo chose me.

I was saved, but Lilia Brown didn't make it. She bled out in the crossfire, her body left in the rubble. Damian pretended he didn't care and married me as planned.

For three years, he made me pay for her death—beating me, starving me, blaming me for the fact that she was gone.

In the end, he drove us both off a cliff instead.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the docks on the night of the ambush. This time, I stepped aside and let him save the woman he truly loved.

That day, I stood in the rain, donned in a rented wedding gown.

He texted, "I’m sorry, Elena, I won’t be coming."

Five years later, he gazed at me and said, "Come work as a maid at my home, in light of the service you once rendered me."

He believed I remained the wretched creature he had trampled upon.

Little did he know that my current husband, Dante Vancetti, is the man who instills fear across all of San Valero.

And I am his Donna—his queen, his entire universe.

Marco Ricci, welcome to hell.

In order to raise the surgical fees for my "blind" boyfriend, I dedicated three entire years to scrubbing toilets.

I believed I was his eyes, the sole beacon of light in his world of darkness.

Until his birthday arrived, I was confronted with the sight of that "incapable" man—who required my assistance even to drink water—coddling his ex-girlfriend while flirting.

"That fool is still busy cleaning toilets," he chuckled with a patronizing grin, brandishing my late mother's memento to charm that woman. "After all, she outshone you at Parsons. Let her serve me like a dog for three years—that'll be her punishment."

It dawned on me that my sacrifices were but fodder for their idle amusement.

Drying my tears, I turned and dialed the number I had blocked for three years—the one belonging to the fiancé who controlled an entire business empire.

"Sebastian, about that arranged marriage... I accept."

My father chose two vampires as marriage prospects for my sister and me.

One was an immensely powerful pureblood aristocrat.

The other was Cassian, crippled by a silver curse. Confined to a wheelchair, he was a laughingstock—wracked by phantom pains and constantly on the verge of madness.

In my past life, I chose Cassian.

I drained my own blood to ease his agonizing curse. I shielded him from the relentless mockery of the Vampire Court. I even gambled my life in werewolf territory to beg for his cure.

But he never seemed to get better.

I didn't care. I remember holding his hand and telling him, "It doesn't matter. No matter what happens to you, I will always stay by your side."

Until the accident. A pack of rogue werewolves ambushed us.

Cassian shoved me precisely into the path of their claws.

Just to shield my sister, Serena, from the fatal blow.

Silver claws completely shredded my throat.

Through my fading vision, I watched Cassian stand up from his wheelchair.

The terrifying aura of a Vampire Lord erupted from him, crushing the werewolves instantly. Countless night-thralls emerged from the shadows, dropping to their knees at his feet.

That was when I understood. He was never paralyzed, and he was never mad.

Because Serena hadn't chosen him, and because he wanted absolutely nothing to do with me, he faked the illness to disgust me for years.

Then, he used my life to save his true love.

"I'm sorry for deceiving you. But I couldn't just watch Serena die."

"Elara... whatever I owe you, I'll repay in the next life."

In the bone-piercing cold, I took my last breath.

When I opened my eyes, I was back on the exact day my father forced us to make our choice.

On the day of the Bonding Pact, my sister and I stood in the grand hall to choose our husbands.

She snatched Malik of the Water Snakes, throwing Raven—the last heir of the Leviathans—to me.

In our past life, we married on the same day, but our grooms were reversed.

She married Raven and birthed a patricidal monster. I married Malik, using my healing magic to cleanse the madness from his blood, and gave birth to a divine heir worshiped by all.

In the end, driven mad by jealousy over her ruin, she murdered me.

In this life, pointing at Malik's token, she declared she would marry Malik .

I lowered my head, hiding my eyes. "Then I wish you exactly what you desire, Sister."

On our third wedding anniversary, a catastrophic car accident plunged me into a state of life-threatening hemorrhage. Yet, before the medical staff, my husband roared: "Draw my wife's blood first; save Serena."

Serena—his first love.

It became apparent that he had never married me out of love; I was but a living blood bank, intended solely to sustain his cherished first love. It was only when I discovered I was pregnant that I realized he would not even spare the life within me.

That incarceration, cloaked in the guise of love, had nearly claimed my life. When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer the Clara who could be so easily sacrificed. This time, I shall ensure he pays for his blood debt, with no chance of redemption.

They say the dead go where they belong.

But I didn't.

I drift through the cold winds, watching my husband—the detective who once swore to protect me with his life—diligently investigating a dismemberment case.

He doesn't know that the broken body lying in the morgue is his wife.

He doesn't know that the gentle, caring "psychologist" who brings him lunch every day is the one who killed me.

He doesn't know that when I called him in my final moments, begging for help, he hung up on me. I am dead. Yet, that is not the cruelest part— the most harrowing aspect is having to witness the truth gradually emerge, watching as that man collapses completely upon uncovering it all.

Ninety-nine pearl necklaces correspond to ninety-nine fractures in my heart.

He was accustomed to using extravagant pearls to atone for his transgressions, yet on the day of my mother’s funeral, he chose to vacation with his mistress while plotting to take from me the ancestral home my mother left behind.

When the hundredth pearl arrived, I presented him with the divorce papers. The pain of my miscarriage still lingered, as he offered me a rare black pearl to "atone"; moments later, he was liking his mistress's posts.

He believed pearls could purchase my love, unaware that each bead counted down the moments of our marriage.

In the end, what does it matter if he risked everything to protect me?

I shall never turn back.

I loved Julian for ten years, carving every sweat-stained day into my love for him.
He once said I shined brighter than any gold medal.
Yet in five short minutes, he handed my dream, my glory, and my whole world to a scheming transfer girl.
Betrayed, discarded, and broken on the fencing strip, I lost my first love and everything I fought for.
Until the retired cold Olympic champion stepped out of the dark midnight shadows.
He offered me hellish training and a sharp blade of revenge.
I buried my soft heart, handed over my soul, and vowed to make every traitor pay.

My BDSM master is my dad's friend?
"My perfect little sub," he murmured huskily against my lips, his voice thick with desire as he continued to explore the depths of my mouth with his tongue. He reached over to turn off the running water. In a smooth motion, he effortlessly lifted me and settled me onto the slightly elevated sink.
"Raise your shirt." his voice was a low command. I complied without hesitation, lifting the fabric slowly until it gathered just below my belly button.
My pussy was in full view now and he stared at it, appearing completely enamored by my body.
"Now, hug your legs," he directed firmly.
I took in a deep breath and followed his instruction, pulling my legs in and forming them into a shape M that exposed my most intimate self to him.


Celia Bennett has always obeyed.
Sheltered by a powerful father, trained to serve—not live—she’s never questioned her place. Until Pierre Bronsnic arrives.
Suave. Dominant. Dangerous.
Her father’s old friend... and a man who thrives on control.
Pierre sees the truth behind her polished mask. With a single touch, he draws Celia into a world of silk ropes, whispered commands, and the intoxicating pull of surrender. Under his guidance, she begins to unravel—awakening to pleasure, power, and the thrill of being owned.
🔥 Dominance. Desire. Defiance.
Her 22nd birthday will be her breaking point—or her rebirth.

"Legs, clamped so tight?"
In the darkness, the man's scorching body pressed against me like a branding iron, his biting kisses forcing my teeth apart, his cock grinding and thrusting into the deepest part of me.
I couldn’t catch my breath, murmuring softly, "Slow down… I can’t take it anymore."
But he acted as if he hadn’t heard, gripping my tense hips and thrusting upward like a madman.
Amid the sticky, wet sounds, the rhythm of flesh colliding grew faster and more urgent…

After the Smith family fell into debt, Scarlett became Richard Gray’s fiancée, only to unexpectedly have a one-night stand with his nephew, Alexander. Their tangled relationships turned her into a pawn in their power struggle. But Scarlett’s true identity was far more complex than it seemed. When she eventually took the head position in the Gray family while pregnant, Alexander, with bloodshot eyes and a smile that stretched to breaking point, asked: "So this was your purpose all along?" Scarlett smiled, taking his hand and pressing it to her abdomen, saying, "Be good. From now on, the game is mine to control!"
Updates in progress, 8 chapters released daily

“Are you okay, kitten? Don’t tell me you’ve had enough when we’re just starting. You’re supposed to be our insatiable mate.”
—

Getting enrolled in a new school and forced to hide her real identity due to her father’s demand because she’s wolfless. She chooses to live a quiet life through college and get it done with, but that can’t happen when she sets foot wrong with the school’s queen bee on her first day and catches the attention of the two hottest twins in school.

The last thing she wants is to get involved with two nasty twins who make her question her every stance.

As fate would have it, she soon realizes she’s mate to these two notorious twins who have been on her neck and wanted her for their little games but little did the twins know they’ll be the ones get stuck in that game forever.

WARNING: CONTAINS MATURE EROTIC EXPLICIT SCENES! PURELY R-RATED!!!

"Onyx, remove your hand. If you continue to touch, you will lose." He chuckled as she exhaled "The condition was to not give in and fuck, Ophelia. I'm merely touching!"
As his fingers returned to their former position, she forced herself to relax. She cursed herself in her head for setting the bar at fuck.
When his fingers worked circles around her clit, she nearly died on the spot. As the moist fabric glided over her sensitive area, her release became more urgent, and she regulated her breathing as he quickened his speed.

His gaze never left hers, as he watched the ecstasy wash over her face, she was growing desperate for release at this point and could just beg. "You simply have to ask, Ophelia, and I'll give you the release you want!" As her name flowed off his tongue, she shivered. "No!" Her voice was clipped, strained even. "Are you certain? Imagine how splendid it would feel when you cum all over my finger here under this table and when I fill your pussy after dinner. Raw and hard, just how you like it."

Onyx Reighs is perhaps one of the finest Chief executives in town. He was respected by his subordinates and desired by females since he possessed every excellent precision a man should have as a leader. But by the end of the night, he was the most notorious player. To him, the purpose of life was to work hard and enjoy life to the fullest. No woman could ever resist his enchantments, and he hadn't expected to know the word "rejected" until she came to fly his bird. What will happened when the lady who rejected him turned out to be his soulmate?

Leila, soon to be 18, working her usual after-school part-time job, overhears something she didn't expect. When she speaks up to correct the conversation unfolding before her, she's put on the spot and left feeling more awkward than she originally thought. This interaction sparks her venture into a love-hate relationship with the captain of the football team, who turns out to be none other than her fated moonbound mate. Something's not right! She's a human, or so she thought. Werewolves are nothing other than myth and legend, until he changes right in front of her, causing everything she knows to be called into question. Including the reason why her parents died 10 years before.

“This isn’t right. Wh-what if we get caught?” I trembled in both fear and pleasure. A sense of guilt flooded through me.

A dark chuckle left one of the boys' lips— my alpha stepbrothers. “Well, that makes it more exciting.” Their warm tongues trailed softly on my skin. Igniting a burning storm in me.

Oh, moon goddess!


Excited to start a life with her mum’s new family. Things didn’t go as planned when she arrived at the pack’s house.

Meeting two drop-dead handsome brothers wasn’t what she was hoping for and most especially getting into the craziest carnal desires with them.

Could it be the moon goddess had something in store for them?

Something so forbidden?

Every time she draws away, the brothers find a way to pull her back into their sin.

How would she ever escape such forbidden atrocities?

She shouldn’t be doing this.

It was very wrong.

So, so wrong.

Yet why does it feel good?

Why does it make her toes curl?

Why does her wolf howl with each passing pleasure and orgasm?

And…

Why does it feel so right?

WARNING: Contains extremely explicit content. Read at your own risk or not!

The moment Alexander lost his memory, I chose to lie: "I'm your girlfriend."

I maintained that lie for seven whole years.

For seven years, I lived like a shadow by his side, watching the disgust in his eyes after his memory returned, enduring every humiliation he gave me for Charlotte's sake. Until I held our dead child and swallowed that bottle of sleeping pills.

When I was reborn and opened my eyes, facing the same amnesiac Alexander, this time I said: "I'm just your friend."

Then I turned around and married his brother Daniel.

When Alexander knelt in the rain crying and begging for my forgiveness, when he desperately rescued Daniel from the rubble, when he was finally found breathless in his room— I no longer wanted to look back.

Ten years of secret love, and what did I get? Watching him fall for another woman at MY art exhibition.

The most ridiculous part? He turned to me and said, "Harper, you have to help me win her over."

I orchestrated their romantic encounters, taught him how to charm women, even told him what flowers she liked. I was the perfect wingman, watching them fall in love while I licked my wounds in the dark.

Until Dr. Avery confronted me with one devastating question: "Do you really think he doesn't know you love him?"

When I finally screamed "I've loved you for ten years!" at Mason, his response froze my blood:

"I know. I've always known."

Turns out, my ten years of devotion were nothing more than a free emotional dumping ground to him—the convenient girl who would never leave. He enjoyed my care while pretending not to see my love, because that was safest, easiest.

Pathetic, right?

A woman wastes ten years loving a man, only to end up pushing him into someone else's arms.

Until Blake appeared.......

In the terminal stage of cancer, my only life-saving chemotherapy opportunity was bought out by Patrick for Laura, who only had early-stage cancer.

I gave up the treatment plan that doctors said could save my life and swallowed strong pain-blocking medication. The consequence was organ failure and death within three days.

During these three days, I gave up everything.

When I gave all my hard-earned achievements to Laura, my parents smiled with relief.

When Patrick presented the divorce papers and I signed them readily, he sighed and said I was very sensible.

When I pushed Anna to call Laura "mom," she said excitedly that mommy was the best.

Even when I transferred all my properties and assets to Laura, they didn't notice anything wrong.

They just looked at me with relief and said: "Our sensible Flora has finally come back."

But I'm also curious - after I die, will they ever think of me?

In my past life, the glorious "Son of the Sun" drained my divine blood until I died a broken shell.
Reborn, my twin sister eagerly steals my fiancé, shoving me toward the exiled, "crippled" King of the Shadow Crows.
As she flaunts her stolen glory, desperate to birth the sky's future ruler, I can only smile.
She doesn't know her golden prince is functionally sterile—and the "heir" she's destroying herself to conceive will be a nightmare.
And she certainly has no idea that my featherless, outcast husband is actually the ancient Abyssal Phoenix.
Let her drown in the hell she stole. This time, I’ll let the very abyss she cursed crown me as a True God.

I used to believe the most beautiful sound in the world was a baby's first cry.

Until I watched my three children die, one by one, at the hands of a woman with the sweetest smile.

Her name was Isabella, my husband's cousin. She would tenderly offer tissues after my miscarriages, frantically call for help when I fell down the stairs, thoughtfully make soup to comfort me after I lost each child.

She was such a talented actress. So convincing that even my mafia don husband said, "Isabella is more suited to be the lady of this house than you are."

But they didn't know—

A docile sheep, once it learns the wolf's rules, becomes far more dangerous than any real wolf.

When Dominick smashed Antonio's skull with the holy chalice, when Isabella screamed through her miscarriage in the basement, when blood splattered across the Virgin Mary's face...

I got dragged online by one of my lead devs.

He claimed my "Incubation Project" was a gilded cage—a trap to exploit the team and steal their personal IPs.

The truth?

I funded it out of my own pocket.

Selected candidates would get a $50,000 no-strings-attached seed fund, plus full Ivy League tuition reimbursement. It was 100% voluntary, with zero penalties for opting out.

Since the internet decided I was a toxic capitalist monopolizing their creativity, I gave him exactly what he wanted. I fired off a company-wide memo:

[To protect your creative freedom from capitalist exploitation, the $50,000 Incubation Fund is permanently abolished, effective immediately.]

[As an alternative, the monthly education allowance for all employees is now a $15 reimbursement for basic coding courses.]

The moment the memo dropped, the employees who were counting on that $50k to pay off student loans or change their lives completely lost it.

Now, they're swarming right outside my glass office door, eyes red, begging me to reinstate the program.