7521 Book(s) Related to the ruby circle

"I love you, Caitlin," he murmurs against my neck, his breath coming in hot, ragged bursts as his hands explore my body, setting every nerve alight with raw, desperate need. But which one is it tonight—Daniel with his soft, lingering touches, Ryan's brutal grip that leaves bruises blooming on my hips, or Patrick's powerful thrusts that own me completely?

I'm Caitlin Morrison, a cutthroat lawyer juggling three men who thought they had the upper hand. At first, they treated me like a toy: Daniel, my old friend, turning our cozy mornings into no-strings convenience; Ryan, the wild rocker, owning my body in sweaty, primal nights of pure animal lust; and Patrick, my domineering boss, turning illicit office hookups into his private thrill, leaving me spent and craving more. They figured they could fuck me and forget the feelings, tossing them aside like yesterday's trash.

But I turned the tables, hooking them deep until they were the ones obsessed, realizing too late—they were my playthings, addicted and pleading for my mercy.

I stayed in this city for Dorian, pushed my way into his company, and saved every penny for three years just so we could build a home together.
But an anonymous flash drive shoved a video of him cheating in our bed right into my face. The next day, a promotion announcement handed the position I’d bled for to the very woman who seduced him.
With my dignity crushed to dust, I had only one person left to rely on—my gentle, almost obsessively devoted stepbrother, Ambrose.
He promised to make those scumbags tear each other apart. He promised Dorian would crawl back to my feet like a dog.
He offered me a "secret recipe" with immediate results.
I expected a deeply satisfying revenge. I never imagined what that so-called recipe actually was...

My mad mother, in her final moments, pressed a set of Russian nesting dolls into my arms.
"These cost me thirty years of my life. In return, they'll give you three ways out of death."
The first doll told me to go to a bar and bring home the third strange man I met.
The second doll, she said to open on the eve of my wedding. There was no note inside. Only a photograph — my groom, killing a woman wearing the exact same wedding dress as mine.
Three years later, on the eve of another wedding, I opened the last doll. I read the note, smiled, and dropped it in the trash.
It was only later that I understood —
This mad woman saw more clearly than anyone sane in this world.
Mom, I'm sorry.

I've been reborn, transported back to the day I gave birth to my daughter.

In my past life, I humbled myself for love, only to be betrayed by my husband Caspian and his mistress Serafina.

They disfigured me, murdered my little girl, and threw me in prison.

This time around, I'm divorcing him without a second thought, holding my daughter close, and escaping this living hell!

The day I risked my life to give birth to my daughter, there was not a single cry in the delivery room.
There was only a note left behind: "This is to pay for the child you killed in Sera's womb. Giving up your own daughter is exactly what you owe her!"
Sera—Seraphine—was my husband Soren’s unforgettable first love, and the legally wedded wife of his older brother.
I used to think that when he broke ties with his entire family to protect me back then, it was out of true love. That was until he gripped my jaw tightly and shattered all my illusions with a cold sneer: "I was just jealous that my brother married Sera. I used you as an excuse to piss off my parents. You’ve always been nothing but a tool."
Seeing through all the lies, I let go of all my obsessions and walked away without looking back...

Married to Declan Hargrove for three years, I kept my past locked away tight. I let no one near Greybell, and I never, ever mentioned the name Calloway.
Until Piper excitedly dug up the "incest scandal" between me and my own brother. The Hargrove family booked their flights that very night, vowing to fly to Greybell and tear my "white-trash" parents to shreds.
I knelt on the carpet, shaking and sobbing.
But hiding behind the curtain of my long hair, no one saw the truth. I wasn’t begging for my own life.
I was begging for theirs.
Because my brother, Reid, had already gotten the news. He was in Greybell right now, preparing an unforgettable "feast" for our arrogant guests.

I inherited my mother’s breathtaking beauty, while my sister was cursed with our father’s plain, vulgar looks.
Consumed by jealousy, she married early and settled into a mundane life, while I was kept entirely imprisoned by our mother—forbidden to date, forbidden to marry.
Whenever I brought a boyfriend home, my mother would take him into that mysterious locked bathroom.
Every single man who walked out of there would have glazed eyes and a flushed look of utter ecstasy. Then, without fail, they would coldly abandon me. Even the man who swore to marry me completely succumbed—to the point where he was having sex with my mother in the garden in broad daylight!
What’s even more bizarre is that whenever any female relative stepped into that bathroom, they came out looking at me with vicious hatred, joining forces to spit on me.
Betrayed by everyone and pushed to the brink, I decided to flee this demonic house in the dead of night.
But the moment I peeked through the crack of the door and finally caught a glimpse inside that bathroom, the blood in my veins turned to ice.
Only then did I horrifyingly realize the true reason my mother was willing to destroy my entire life...

I got off work two hours early, hoping to surprise my boyfriend whom I had just bailed out for $30,000.
I pushed the bedroom door open. The surprise was on me—my stepsister Chloe was straddling Dorian. The same man who, just three days ago, sat crying on the police station floor swearing "I only have you," now slowly lit a cigarette and asked if I wanted to join them.
I thought that was the worst moment of my life.
I was wrong.
When the hand that had just been caressing Chloe gripped my throat and hoisted me into the air, I finally saw the truth. Dorian Vane, the guy who humiliated me at our high school prom ten years ago, hadn't changed at all.

In my first life, blinded by greed, I claimed to be that mysterious woman. Silas glanced at my left shoulder and said coldly, "No butterfly tattoo." His bodyguards dragged me to the backyard and shattered my ribs with a baseball bat.
In my second life, Cleo learned from my mistake. She got the butterfly tattoo at an underground parlor. But Silas lifted her skirt and sneered, "No birthmark on her inner thigh." We were thrown into the frozen lake behind the mountain.
"Find her. She's in the West Wing." Silas Brennan's cold command echoed through the Brennan Estate again. Cleo and I locked eyes, terror gripping us.
We were the only maids in the West Wing.

I was taking six-year-old Arabella to fit her dress for the theater's grand opening.
As we crossed the intersection, a truck suddenly lost control and T-boned our car.
When I opened my eyes again, an agonizing pain ripped through me. I opened my mouth to call out Everett's name, only to hear his hushed voice seeping through the crack in the door—
"Staging an unavoidable accident was the only way to use the emergency room as a cover for the drug trial."
"Now that Ophelia's treatment is a success, there's naturally no need for that little bastard to live."
My Arabella. She was secretly wheeled into the operating room by him, used as a human guinea pig for his mistress Delilah's daughter, who had bone cancer. Her sweet, bell-like vocal cords were cruelly carved out and transplanted into another child's throat.
In that defining moment, I realized he had never loved my daughter.
But what he didn't know—the child he just murdered with his own hands was his one and only flesh and blood.

Eight years of marriage. Fluent in seven languages. Yet I never dared speak a word in front of my husband.

He claimed to be allergic to my voice—hearing me talk gave him headaches, ringing ears, made his whole body ache.

To change my voice, I underwent four vocal cord surgeries. My voice became hoarse, rough as sandpaper scraping concrete. But no matter how hard I tried, he still clutched his ears in pain.

For eight years, I blamed myself. I thought I was the one dragging him down.

Until our anniversary, when our daughter casually yanked off his "hearing aid" and tossed it on the couch.

I picked it up and put it in my ear. What I heard was my cousin Freya's flirtatious voice, and his tender response.

That moment, I finally understood—

No matter what I did, all this man ever wanted from me was silence.

My world began to crumble the day my adopted sister, Opal, forced her way back into my life with a fatherless daughter in her arms.
My eldest son, Finn, was strapped to an operating table and used for live experiments until he was tortured to death. His remains were tossed into Death Valley.
For her, my husband struck me, costing me my second unborn child.
For her, my own brother locked me in a freezing dungeon. And my late father? He had been a slave to her charms long before he died.
While they threw a lavish birthday party for Opal’s daughter in the brightly lit banquet hall, I was pinned down by dungeon guards, my clothes being ripped off, inch by inch...

My billionaire lover brought out a bespoke mermaid gown, declaring he would marry whoever could fit into it.
But in my past four lives, every woman who tried it on—whether an ambitious imposter or me, his true love—was brutally tortured and murdered by him.
In my fifth rebirth, the butler knocked on our door with a polite smile, "Mr. Voss says his true love is among you."
Since we four women would die no matter who wore it...
We exchanged a look in the dead silence, turned our heads in perfect unison, and locked our eyes onto the only man in the room.

Seven years ago, I was Velmoor City’s youngest surgeon. A bloodied nursing assistant knelt at my feet, weeping that her thug boyfriend was going to beat her to death. I gave her my guest room.
On her chemo bed, my mother gripped my hand, begging me to kick that woman out. I said she had nowhere else to go.
Later, I caught her wearing my pajamas in my own home. Then, I caught her and my husband naked in his office. Immediately after, a fatal medical error was pinned on me, and my medical license was revoked.
My husband looked at me arrogantly and said: I can liquidate everything I own to settle this for you. On one condition—divorce.
What he didn’t know was that I was pregnant. On the day of the divorce, the judge read out the division of assets: $26.30.
Seven years later, I took a catering gig at a billionaire’s mansion. Less than half an hour into the banquet, his seven-year-old daughter pointed at my seven-year-old daughter. “She stole my ten-million-dollar diamond necklace!”
I looked up and finally recognized him. The billionaire was my "bankrupt" ex-husband. And the woman clinging to his arm, dripping in diamonds, was the nursing assistant who had once knelt at my feet.

This year was our sixth wedding anniversary. For the first time in six years, Kaelen finally agreed to go with me to Veyra City to visit my parents.
Six years. I thought he was finally swallow his pride and making peace with my family.
But late that night, as I stood outside our daughter’s bedroom holding a warm glass of milk, I heard them speaking inside.
"Daddy, Lorie said you're going to marry her mommy soon. What about Mommy?" Lisette’s voice was timid and small.
"It’s just a fake marriage, sweetie. Just to help Rosalind out," Kaelen chuckled softly. "Keep it our little secret, okay? Don't tell Mommy. If you promise, Daddy will buy you that Barbie Dreamhouse tomorrow."
I stood frozen in the hallway, the glass of milk cold against my fingertips.
Since he still clung so desperately to his past, it was time for me to take back the life I had thrown away.

Our clan worships the Spider Goddess.
To keep this face, every girl in our bloodline must sacrifice a truly evil man every ten years.
Just two weeks before my twentieth birthday, my mom asked me again over the phone:
"Sweetie, is it really that hard to find a sufficiently bad guy in a place like Ashfield?"
Right now, I’m looking at my boyfriend, who just handcuffed me to a bed. He’s laughing, negotiating a price with a buyer, thinking I’m tonight’s merchandise.
I think to myself—
Mom, I can answer your question now. This guy’s wickedness easily rivals your husband's—my father.

Three years of marriage. Three pregnancies.

Every time I confirmed I was pregnant, my sister-in-law Ophelia would walk into the chapel behind the manor.

Then my in-laws would drag me to the hospital and force me to abort the healthy baby.

The night after my third miscarriage, I dragged my weakened body to follow her into the chapel.

The moment I pushed open that door, my blood ran cold.

In that instant, I finally understood why my three children had to die.

My best friend, Elaina, had been a runaway bride eight times in three years. But that day, with flushed cheeks, she told me she had finally met her true love and actually wanted to get married.
On that exact same day, my 22nd proposal to Kieran was rejected—again. Over the past eight years, I handed over my paychecks to him, gave him all my jewelry patents, and turned down overseas job offers, all to get a wedding in return. Yet, all I ever got was his usual, "Just wait a little longer."
That night, I found out the man Elaina was going to marry was Kieran.

Trapped in a lifelong obsession with my flawed face, I found solace only behind beauty filters.
Seraphine, the undisputed beauty of our town, had not only stolen Cillian—the boy I liked—but made a habit of publicly humiliating me.
When I signed up for the Magnolia Queen pageant, I knew I didn't stand a chance. But one foggy morning, while fetching the paper, I found a mysterious silver compact mirror inside my mailbox.
With just a light dab of the powder, my lifelong acne scars vanished entirely. But engraved inside the lid was a list of previous owners, and Seraphine's name was glaringly present.
The faceless shadow that briefly flashed in the mirror was a grim reminder: this perfect skin didn't belong to me.
Who secretly delivered this curse to my doorstep?

My husband, Caspian, faked his company’s bankruptcy. We had to sell our luxury cars and our mansion, squeezing into a leaky, moldy basement.
By day, I worked back-to-back shifts in the ER saving lives. By night, I slipped into revealing dresses to sling drinks at a bar, all to shoulder a massive debt that never even existed.
Until I bumped into him in a VIP room. The man who was supposedly drowning in stress was lounging on a sofa with his suit unbuttoned, swirling a glass of whiskey, a secretary in his arms. His mistress leaned in and smirked, telling me Caspian had found me boring for a long time.
She also bragged that while he claimed to be working until 3 AM, he was actually going back to our old house at 10 PM, sleeping in our master bedroom.
Caspian showed zero remorse. Instead, he demanded I roll over and accept the woman, tossing me a meager payoff and threatening to ruin my medical career.
I threw away my wedding ring. I swallowed my tears. I finally saw it all for what it was.
From today on, I am only doing one thing: taking back what belongs to me, piece by piece.

They say true love makes a woman radiant. Noble. Beautiful.

But my marriage? It was a prison.

For seven years, I wore the shackles of "the perfect wife." I endured. I yielded. I bent over backward to keep the peace. Even when my husband banished me to the back row on our anniversary. Even when I watched him fawn over another woman right in front of me—I stayed silent.

I wanted to break free. I just didn't know how.

Then the yacht swayed, and my arm brushed against Theodore Sinclair.

He didn't pull away.

Neither did I.

When his fingers found mine beneath the blanket... when his voice dropped low against my ear and murmured, *"When we reach shore, I'll give you exactly what you want"*—

I was lost.

They say a woman who strays has no shame.

But when his lips met mine, I couldn't help wondering:

Is this it? Is this where my new life finally begins?

My adopted sister, Adriana, hit and injured Hadley Brooks—the prized mistress of Hartwell’s mafia boss, Dario Salvatore—and fled the scene.
Don Salvatore gave us exactly three days. And so, my husband and my parents all turned their eyes to me: Go take the fall for her. You always know how to fix things.
I agreed.
What they didn't know was that on that very same day, my doctor had given me my own deadline: I had, at most, three days left to live.

I spent five years waiting for a wedding, only to watch his first love move in—pregnant, sleeping in our master bedroom, wearing my wedding dress.

She said the baby was his. He believed her.

She said I pushed her. He believed her.

She said I was eaten up with jealousy. He believed her.

But me? He didn't believe a single word I said.

The day I tried on my wedding gown, gunfire erupted. My fiancé shielded her and ran, never once looking back. He forgot that the woman left behind in the line of fire was the one he was supposed to marry. In that moment, my heart turned to ash.

Then came the report from his men—

"Boss, we couldn't find Miss Celeste..."

And so, this cold-blooded mafia king finally learned what it felt like to lose something.

Too bad. Some things, once lost, are gone forever.

The night my sister, Quinn, got her registered nurse license was supposed to be Jude's big moment—down on one knee, proposing.
Instead, Garrett showed up. The same animal who assaulted Quinn in the redwood forest six years ago and drove our mother to her death in the ocean.
Her future mother-in-law took back the ring on the spot, and her fiancé trailed after her like a kicked puppy.
The entire town of Hawkins went from pity to disgust when they looked at us.
Seven days later, the deputy sheriff stood in my kitchen, staring at the twenty-second batch of bubbling meat sauce...

Lysander’s ex-girlfriend, Evangeline, suggested a hiking trip. Out of obligation to me as his fiancée, he brought me along.
We got lost in the woods and trespassed onto the territory of his half-brother, Orion.
When Orion pointed a gun at us and forced him to choose—
In my past life, he chose me.
As a result, Evangeline was sold to a rival, Matthias, and was tortured to death. I spent the rest of my life bearing the full weight of Lysander’s hatred.
In the third year of our marriage, I lay in a hospital bed after a miscarriage. He stood coldly beside me and said, "Now you know how it feels to lose the love of your life."
Reborn into this life, as Orion’s gun points at me and Evangeline once again, I make the choice for him.
I’m leaving the chance to survive to his true love.

On my first day back in the country after studying abroad, my mother sent me to my fiancé’s company. I was to work low-profile as a secretary, just to slowly cultivate our relationship.
The moment I stepped into the office, a domineering woman started ordering me around, demanding I fetch her coffee.
I endured it.
That was until she deliberately spilled the coffee all over me. Only then did I realize that this woman—running amok in my fiancé’s company and treated like a queen by everyone—was his mistress.

Thirty thousand feet in the air, inside the sealed cabin of a commercial airliner, my five-year-old daughter vanished into thin air while I took a thirty-minute nap.
I tore through the lavatories, the galleys, and every overhead bin. The only thing I found was her stuffed bunny, the one she never let out of her sight.
What was even more terrifying was the crew and the passengers. As if perfectly rehearsed, they all insisted I had boarded the plane alone. They even gaslit me in front of everyone, claiming I was mentally unstable and had hallucinated a daughter.
They took turns pushing me, trying to force me into self-doubt and submission. Not a single person offered to help me look. The entire plane was covering up a sinister crime.
If this plane was going to hide my child and protect the guilty, then I would tear this hypocritical aircraft apart with my bare hands.

That "poor pregnant woman" downstairs is currently waddling around Linden Court with her forty-week baby bump, sobbing to the neighbors. She claims the noise of me screwing men in the middle of the night is so loud it's killing her unborn baby.
In my past life, no one in this building believed me. In the end, she used a pair of rusty pruning shears to pin me, dead, to my own living room floor.
Reborn into a new life, I stare at the bulletin board where my face is crossed out with red marker, and I let out a cold laugh.
This time, I absolutely refuse to be the idiot who gets stabbed to death.

Thirty-three days in the dark. When the dungeon door finally opened, I, Cordelia, walked out with absolutely nothing.
My adopted sister, Romina, forged the evidence that locked me away. My parents bought her lies and disowned me. My husband, Silvano, sent divorce papers to my cell and immediately dumped our three-year-old son, Lior, at an orphanage, registering him as an orphan.
Then came the diagnosis: a severe blood disorder. To bring my little boy home, I had to formally adopt him, which meant I needed a million dollars to my name.
Driven into a corner, I returned to the Ferrara Manor—the place I once called home—and accepted every humiliating transaction Silvano offered, trading my dignity for the money to save my son.
I thought if I just endured it long enough, I could take my boy and leave.
But overnight, my private photos were splashed across the city.
My adoption eligibility was instantly revoked. And Lior’s life was quietly bleeding out, day by day.

Alpha Geirolf once fought his entire Ulvarr Pack just to mate me.
But Anniken's arrival turned all his sweeping vows to ash.
He let her take over the manor, shatter my mother’s moonstone bracelet, and lock me—burning with a high fever—in the dungeon to be thrown into freezing water.
The biting cold silently stole the baby in my womb. He saw the crimson pooling on the floor, yet turned his back to comfort that woman and her fake tears.
And on the 108th time I handed him the rejection papers, he finally snapped our mate bond...

On our fifth anniversary, Caspian gifted me a luxury yacht bearing my name. Everyone said I was the luckiest woman alive.
But when I finally conceived his child and prepared to share the news, his mistress sent me photos—him cradling a baby she'd given him, his eyes filled with a tenderness I'd never seen.
Five years of waiting, five years of infertility—all an elaborate lie.
He once whispered in my ear: "Even if every man in the world betrays his wife, I never will. You're my life. Without you, I can't survive."
I quietly packed, left behind my pregnancy report and all the evidence, and drove away. Three hours later, he received the call: my car exploded on the highway. No survivors.
From that day on, the most powerful man in Valen City lost his mind completely.

I saved Theron’s life, and in return, he lined up his eight grandsons before me. Whoever I chose would be the next Alpha of the Frostvale Pack. My wolf instantly recognized Rhysand—my fated mate. I chose him without hesitation.
On our wedding night, the moment I touched him, he broke out in hives and gasped for air. The doctor said he was allergic to me. Overnight, I became the city's laughingstock. For three years, I walked on eggshells, terrified to even step near my own husband.
Until he was dosed with a lethal aphrodisiac. If not cured within two hours, he would die. I threw caution to the wind and climbed into his bed. Through an entire night of skin-to-skin contact, there were no hives, no suffocation. His "allergy" had miraculously vanished.
But at dawn, his ex-girlfriend Linnea walked in. Rhysand looked at me like I was garbage. "If Linnea hadn't saved me last night, I'd be dead."
Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. But before I could even share the news, a raging fire buried that unspoken hope—along with my unborn child—in the ashes forever.
I finally understood. He was never allergic to me.
He just never loved me.

Two years ago, my best friend Maddie knelt in front of me, crying as she borrowed $50,000.
The very next day, she vanished off the face of the earth. No explanation, no apology, not even a single text message.
I was left carrying her toxic debt. I lost my fiancé, and I lost my ability to trust anyone.
Until one late night, a call came in from an unknown number originating in an abandoned mining district in West Virginia.
On the other end of the line, Maddie said she was getting married. She had the money ready—every last cent.
The wedding venue was a ruined church deep in the mountains, abandoned for a decade. The time: Friday, midnight.

On the day I gave birth to my daughter, Iris, my husband Hollis pushed open the hospital room door, dragging a four-year-old boy by the arm. Eyes red and welling with tears, he said, "Look who I brought home."
My mother-in-law wept tears of joy. My son, Felix—who supposedly died in the winery fire five months ago—had returned "from the dead."
The whole room was crying over this miracle, but my blood ran cold: since the second he walked through that door, Hollis hadn't spared a single glance at our newborn daughter.
I secretly collected a DNA sample from the boy and sent it for expedited testing. The results confirmed it: this wasn't my son at all. He was Hollis’s illegitimate child with another woman.
That same night, I pulled up the nursery's hidden camera footage and watched with my own eyes as this man injected poison into Iris’s breast milk. Soon after, he brazenly moved his mistress—my personal assistant—into my home.
A towering wave of hatred consumed me. I swore I would make them pay in blood...

Ten years ago, on the day my family was destroyed, Ezra Ashford promised to marry me.
Ten years passed. He refused to honor that promise, and he refused to mark me. The feral instincts in my blood were growing wilder by the day, pushing me to the brink of madness—yet he turned around, announced his engagement to Ophelia, the beloved daughter of the Silvermane Pack, and casually sold me off to Rhysand, a scarred, half-burned monster who cleaned corpses for a living.
On his wedding night, Ezra actually abandoned Ophelia, kicking down my door in his tailored tuxedo.
Only to freeze in his tracks.
I sat naked on the edge of the bed. Rhysand, the supposedly lowly corpse cleaner, had me wrapped in his arms. The bite mark on the back of my neck was still bleeding.

I am the Seer of the wolf pack, the Alpha’s wife, yet I have never truly known love.

My parents called me a bastard; my sister stole everything from me, even my husband’s heart.

Now, she blinds herself and frames me, forcing me to give up my own eyes.

No one knows that when a Seer loses her sight, she dies.

I thought that making the ultimate sacrifice would finally earn me a shred of affection. But even as I lay dying on the operating table, they gathered around my sister, laughing.

Only when the truth came out did they realize—I was their real daughter, and my sister was the one who schemed to take everything from me.

But by then, it was far too late.

Married for five years, my husband, Reid, constantly played the poverty card. He’d blame crashing company revenues, claiming we couldn't even afford to upgrade to a house with a small yard. His favorite excuse was that we had to subsidize his chronically ill, adopted sister, Vivienne.
Yet, he frequently went out late at night, his phone practically glued to his hand. I suspected he was having an affair, but I couldn't find a single shred of evidence.
So, for our fifth anniversary, I gifted him a custom leather belt with a micro-GPS tracker hidden inside.
At 2:00 AM, the tracker pinned him at a private suburban farm—while he claimed to be pulling an all-nighter at the office.
Furious, I drove out to the middle of nowhere, my head full of scenarios where I’d catch him in bed with another woman. But when I arrived, the entire farm was locked down by the police.
A grim-faced detective stopped me and asked coldly, "Ma'am, are you the family of the deceased?"

On our sixth wedding anniversary, my husband Jonathan brought his dead ex-girlfriend's sister into our home — despite my objections.

"Beatrice, are you even human? You can't even show compassion to a dying woman! How could someone so cold-hearted be a role model for Oliver!"

My son — the boy I'd raised for six years — swung his little fists at me and screamed: "Beatrice! If you don't let Isadora stay, I'll never speak to you again!"

That was the moment my heart turned to stone.

I signed the divorce papers and walked straight back into the courtroom — clawing my way back to the top.

Then they discovered her lies. Every. Single. One.

Jonathan fell to his knees before me, eyes red and brimming with tears: "Beatrice, do six years of marriage mean nothing to you anymore?"

My son clung to my legs, sobbing: "Mommy! Mommy, don't go! I know I was wrong! Mommy—"

I looked down at them. I felt nothing.

"Now take your mistress and your son — and get out of my life."

I turned and walked away without looking back.

I'm an international flight purser. Every time I returned from a trip, I would find a woman’s item in my apartment that didn't belong to me.
The first time, it was a diamond earring on the bathroom counter. Gabriel said his mother left it behind when she visited. The second time, it was a pair of lace panties stuffed between the sofa cushions. He claimed his cousin's girlfriend left them when they crashed at our place, and his cousin even offered to buy us a brand-new sofa to apologize.
Time and time again, there was a flawless excuse for every single item.
Until the seventeenth time, when I deliberately hid one of my own lace bras under the sofa...

During our first month at university, my half-vampire boyfriend, Darien, claimed he couldn't adapt to the human campus. The bright lights gave him vertigo, the sensory overload wrecked him, and even a drop of a classmate's blood pushed him to the brink of losing control.
For him, I promised to drop my elite program so we could transfer to a dreary, isolated northern town together. To keep him stable, I—a pureblood vampire—slashed my own wrists to feed him.
Thursday night, standing outside the gym locker room, I heard him tell his teammate: "It's all an act. She's like a leech I can't peel off, and I’m sick of it. I tricked her into moving north so Cassira can study here in peace."
Everything he did was just to disgust me out of his life, all for another girl.
I stood there for a long time, then turned and walked away.
On my transfer application, I crossed out checking the northern town and changed my destination to London.

Top designer Emma Carter catches her boyfriend cheating with her best friend.
In the fallout, she marries the legendary business tycoon Liam Hayes, a man rumoured to avoid women entirely.
As he loosens his tie and walks toward her, her pulse stutters.

Where is his vow of abstinence? *
All I see is a hungry beast that’s just been awakened. *

Warning Explicit Content: Graphic sexual situations, language, triggers

New Place, New Life, New Everything...
Elicia Dewalt, an orphan from Texas with no ties to anything. Begins to find her "dream life" derailing quickly with strange occurrences and it always seems to lead back to the four gorgeous hunks at the club her first night in London.

What happens when her entire existence is blown to pieces with only a few words?

Follow Elicia as she discovers what hidden secrets have laid dormant, until her chance encounter with the four wild boys known as "The Watchmen".

Olivia Wilson's life like a fairy tale turned upside down in just one single night. A night that took her everything and gave her only a tag in return and the tag was "The Traitor's Daughter". A tag that she was determined to remove.

Olivia Wilson was living a perfect life till the age of 12. Her life was fulfilled with happiness and the people who used to increase her happiness more were The Alpha's Sons who are non-identical triplets. They promised to protect her and prayed to the Moon Goddess to make them her mates. Everything in her life seemed to go perfect until one day, her father Oliver Wilson was falsely accused by the Gamma, of killing the Luna and paralyzing the Alpha. Her life took an opposite turn, everyone who used to love her started hating her. The Triplets who promised to protect her turned into the ones she needs to be protected from. She started facing thousands of brutal torture and the Gamma who was involved in those dirty games made her life a living hell.

All those hurtful words and torture couldn't tame her, she was determined to prove her father's innocent but one thing that broke her completely was when her acceptance of the prayer she made in childhood turned into her worst nightmare. And what made it worse was they had other plans than rejecting her.

Note: This book is a collection of "The Traitor's Daughter" and "Nothing More than a Bully".

❤️‍🔥This Month's Editorial Obsession: A love story so heartbreaking, so beautiful—missing it would be a crime.❤️‍🔥

He forgot her. She never forgot him.
The crash of waves still triggers memories of Leon—how he chased her along the shore, how he lifted her effortlessly while she giggled and twisted in his arms. She can still feel the moonlight on wet sand, still remember the night he made love to her as they had forever. They were young, wild, and free. They were the past.

Layla never intended to return to his world. But when your daughter is dying, and only one man has the bone marrow match to save her, choice becomes a luxury you can't afford.
Zaley Raines. The city's most dangerous ruler. Cold. Untouchable. Lethal. And her daughter's only hope.
He agrees to help—but his eyes linger on her face like he's searching for something buried deep. Some forgotten ghost. Some stolen memory. He doesn't recognize her.
But Layla knows exactly who he is. Leon. Her first love. Her daughter's father. The boy who promised to save her from despair—before his memories were stolen, rewritten, erased.
Something about her pulls at him, familiar and consuming. He wants answers. She can't give them. Not when the truth could shatter everything they've built from the ashes of what they lost. But when fragments start surfacing—flashes of a redhead in his arms, promises written in sand, a love he doesn't remember losing—Zaley stops asking questions.
He starts taking answers.** And when he finally remembers everything? The real danger begins.

He kept his hand on my neck and inched closer to me. I turned my head slightly and he took the opportunity to nuzzle his nose in my neck. Taking a deep breath, his hand slid from my throat and wrapped around my waist.

What? I was confused and scared.

"You always smell so good." He said.

Suddenly the bell rang.

"I-I need to get to class" I whispered, touching his shoulders and lightly pushing him back.

His eyes immediately hardened as he roughly grabbed my neck and slammed me back into the wall—this time his body pressed on mine.

"You'll leave when I say you can." He said as his other hand snaked into my hair and gripped it softly.

"Did you really think just because our parents are getting married things would change for you?"

Joella Stevens is a straight A student and junior in high school. She's very sweet and soft spoken. Her mother has been dating for a while but she has never brought anyone home to meet her. That is until one man pops the big question.
Joella finds herself struggling to stay calm when she learns that her mom's new fiancé is the father to her longtime bully, Haden Cooper.
Haden Cooper is a Senior and captain of the football team. He's very handsome and charming but there is a dark/controlling side to him and a hidden family history Joella has yet to learn of. Joella tries to avoid him, but she can't seem to get out of his grasp. Things only start to get more intense once Joella and her mother move in with Haden and his father.

A thrilling novel of financial and political suspense and intrigue, The HAWALADAR recounts one man's ill-conceived attempt to meld the highly regulated culture of modern commercial banking with that of the parallel, underground netherworld of Hawala, a world-wide network of shadowy money-movers whose services are ideally suited to the needs of such nefarious clientele as organized crime, drug cartels, rogue governments and modern-day terrorist organizations. Tariq Nasir, is a brilliant, dynamic Pakistani-American, who is amassing significant wealth via a fast-growing international business empire, structured to commingle modern business systems and technology with the highly secretive commercial practices of the old world and Hawala. The attempted assimilation of controlling interest in a highly regulated U.S. financial institution, however, ushers in the gradual unraveling of a family business plan conceived in Pakistan years prior to Mr. Nasir's birth.Logan Hart, is a man who is no stranger to financial or international intrigue. Hired as number two executive at the Nasir-controlled Global United Bank of Chicago to assist in morphing the once local community bank into the kind of international banking organization conceived by the Nasir plan, the recently widowed, career banker and former special military operator questions the advisability of having accepted his new position when a series of strange events start happening shortly after his arrival. Doubt begins with the death of a much-beloved, old regulator from the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency, who is murdered while examining the bank. Partnered with Cassandra Price, the federal official assigned by the OCC to investigate the circumstances surrounding the untimely death of her associate, Hart finds himself unexpectedly attracted to the senior regulator, as the two help uncover an insidious plot by an Islamic fundamentalist terror group, who are planning a coordinated attack on several American cities with a biological weapon of mass destruction. The pair find themselves at the forward edge of the battle area in the War on Terror as they work with the FBI and agencies of the Department of Homeland Security in a race against time to avert a disaster of epic proportions.

In a world where gods are worshipped, feared, and quietly doubted, ancient legends still walk among mortals.

Xyra, a nimble thief surviving in the shadowy backstreets, believes her fate has finally turned when she steals a heavy purse from a solitary traveler. Little does she know, she has just pickpocketed Magnus Coleman, the most dangerous sorcerer in the land.

Magnus is not just a demon hunter; he is a man burdened with secrets and a heavy purpose, whispered about in hushed tones. He is on a quest for the long-lost Lazufeer talismans—artifacts older than kingdoms, said to hold the power to alter destiny itself and even challenge the gods.

Determined to follow him, Xyra is driven by greed but soon realizes that this journey is about more than just survival; it’s about the rewriting of fate. As they traverse cursed lands, ruined cities, and battlefields haunted by monsters and ancient sins, they find themselves pursued by cultists, warlords, and forces that defy comprehension.

In this chase, Xyra discovers that some treasures come at a cost far greater than gold. If the Lazufeer talismans are found, the world will not just change—it will be rewritten. And in the wrong hands, even the gods themselves may fall. As the line between myth and reality blurs, she must navigate the storm of destiny to carve out her own path in this battle for belief and survival.

Each of his touches burns like a flame, causing her body to betray her sanity and crave more. Between the cold of the lab and the flames of passion, Aria finds herself in a vortex from which there is no escape. Her body is awakening, and he - is waiting for her to fall completely.
There are some longings that, once awakened, cannot be extinguished... He is no ordinary human - he possesses the blood of an ancient dragon race.
And she, is his destined mate.


Aria：I shifted in his lap, straddling him, my dress now bunched uselessly around my waist, the water lapping gently around us. I slid my hands over his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath my palms. Faster now. Wild.
He gasped softly when I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth—tentative at first, then deeper. His hands gripped my hips, not to push me away but to anchor me, as if he feared I might dissolve.

Lean：The second I saw her, every part of me screamed to move, to reach out, to grab her hand and never let go. Her scent hit me the second we brushed past each other—faint, but sharp enough to cut straight through me. My hands twitched with the urge to move—to sink into her hair, to hold her face and drink her in—but I forced them into fists at my sides. 
I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. Every ounce of control I had left went into holding myself back.

“What are you doing in my room, Kade?” I demand, my analytical brain frantically calculating his proximity as I back against the locked door. “Our agreement is purely transactional. A fake relationship for the media.”

He steps into my space, his tall frame cutting off the light, eyes dark with a reckless heat that doesn't match his usual icy control. He grabs my wrist gently, pinning it to the wood, his lips brushing my ear as his voice drops into a gravelly whisper.

“The cameras aren’t watching us right now, Doc,” he rasps, his chest pressing against mine. “So stop lying to me. And stop pretending your heart isn't beating just as fast as mine.”

She’s the elite clinical psychologist, sharp, guarded, and hired to dissect the minds of the world's most dangerous drivers. But she’s harboring a dark past and secrets that could ruin her career if the paddock ever finds out.

He’s the ruthless F1 champion, arrogant, emotionally locked down, and drowning in a family crisis he refuses to let the world see. He doesn't trust anyone, least of all the brilliant woman hired to evaluate him.

To survive a relentless corporate nightmare and a media circus, they agree to a dangerous game: a fake relationship.

They are supposed to be playing a part.
They are supposed to keep their distance.

But as a shadowy predator begins closing in on her perimeter, and a midnight rooftop kiss shatters their clinical boundaries, their twisted arrangement ignites something far more volatile than a racetrack with pure desire.

In a world where trust is a liability and secrets are weaponized, falling for her driver might be her most catastrophic miscalculation.