24 Book(s) Related to lawlight lemon

Growing up, if Cecily so much as frowned, whatever I was holding would be ripped from my hands. If she coughed twice, I’d be sent to kneel out in the snow to reflect on how I had "failed to take proper care of my sister."

In adulthood, their favoritism remained unchanged—only it grew deadlier.

My father would slam his fist against the table, threatening to freeze my trust fund and kick me out of the Vance family.

My mother would stare at me with red, tearful eyes, accusing me of "stealing your sister's nutrients in the womb."

Even Declan, my husband on paper, would constantly lecture me about being "reasonable" and "compliant," trying to pressure me into signing a "Volunteer Experimental Trial Consent Form" for Cecily's sake.

An unapproved, illegal human trial.

In the past, I would have cried. I would have looked at them and asked, "When did any of you ever look at me and see a daughter?"

That was until the day I got my own medical report back.

[Terminal Congenital Heart Failure.]

Seven days left to live.

When my father threw that consent form on the table again, using my banishment as collateral; when my mother sobbed, begging me to "take the hit" for my sister; when Declan tried to coax me, promising "just cooperate, it’ll be over soon"—I finally picked up the pen.

I signed my name on an experimental trial waiver with a 90% mortality rate.

They all smiled with relief. They told me I was finally being mature.

What they didn't know was that my time was already up.

I was reborn on the exact night my guardian, Caleb, was consumed by a drug-induced rut.

This time, I didn't hesitate. I dialed his fated Luna directly. "Your Alpha is in rut. You have ten minutes to come collect him."

In my past life, I loved the Alpha who took me in. I gave him everything when he needed it most, throwing myself into the fire just to save him, even bearing his pup.

But that same night, his precious "white moon"—Selena—went out for a walk, only to be dragged away and slaughtered by rogues.

She had mind-linked him thirty-three times before she died. But he was with me, delivering our baby, and he blocked her out.

For that, my reward was a silver collar piercing my scent glands in the cold dungeons. I was forced to watch my baby die in agony, my last sight in this world being Caleb’s eyes, filled with pure, unadulterated disgust.

"If you hadn't refused to call Selena that night, if you hadn't been such a whore begging for my bed, she would never have died."

"You and this bastard pup... the world is cleaner with you both dead."

I blinked, and the nightmare shattered. I was back. Back to the exact night the aphrodisiac triggered his rut.

Kane was the undisputed tyrant of our high school, notoriously ruthless with his words.

I’d always been on the curvier side. When the new, form-fitting cheer uniforms arrived at the locker room, Kane hadn't held back his mocking laugh.

"Are you seriously going to parade around in that?" he had sneered. "Please. You look like a pig about to burst out of its casing. It's embarrassing."

I couldn’t begin to count the number of times I’d mentally broken down over Kane’s acidic remarks. But every time, I forced myself to swallow the humiliation.

Why? Because he was the state's most coveted star quarterback.

Because whenever someone else tried to give me hell, he’d step in with that fiercely impatient, undeniably protective attitude of his. That was my justification.

That was, until the eve of the State Championship.

Daisy, a nobody freshman who had barely scraped her way onto the cheer squad, took the confidential playbook our team had spent three agonizing months perfecting, and handed it straight to our biggest rivals.

Normally, Kane would have sneered and verbally shredded the culprit until there was nothing left of their dignity.

But this time? He just stepped forward, pulled a pack of tissues from the pocket of his expensive letterman jacket, tossed it at Daisy’s feet, and looked away.

"Stop crying," he said, his voice strangely subdued. "The damage is done, and tears won't fix a damn thing. Besides, your face gets all red and swollen when you cry. It's an ugly look."

I was eight weeks pregnant when I suffered a violent hemorrhage inside the café’s restroom. Clutching my bleeding abdomen, I called my husband fourteen times—only to be labeled a hysterical faker. That same night, he toasted champagne with his young female assistant in his arms without a single shred of guilt.
Three days later, surveillance footage exposed the truth. The woman he cherished had been the one who shoved me down the staircase on purpose.
The night I lost our child, he was out raising his glass in celebration.
Fine. I will make them pay for every single thing they’ve done.

In my previous life, I chose the werewolf and gave birth to the Arbiter, only to be burned alive by the younger sister I loved most.
When I was reborn, I knelt before the Oath Stone, handed my marriage pact to her, and watched her gloat in triumph before choosing Sylas, the elf everyone else avoided.
Everyone was waiting to see me make a fool of myself—until the day of the wedding, when he came carrying a gown blessed by the Sacred Tree, lowered his eyes to me, and said, "In this life, I will never fail you."

In the Hall of Divine Selection, my younger sister stepped on me and declared that she was the only one worthy of becoming the Dragon Queen. Then she threw Kaelorn at me—a broken, half-blind dragon she had tortured until even his tail was severed—like he was nothing more than a worthless mate for a worthless bride.
In my last life, I was stripped to the bone and imprisoned by the Dragon God, while she lived free and untouched.
But this time, the moment she raised her hand to slap me, I had already made up my mind—
In this life, I'll be the one to drag her into hell.

To protect my older sister's piano championship, my own brother crushed all ten of my fingers.
To win my sister's favor, my fiancé hired someone to kick the baby out of me.
After surviving a fire that nearly killed me, I finally woke up.
And when I returned, I blasted the hard proof of their affair and their schemes all over the internet. As I watched them lose their minds, lose everything, and drop to their knees begging for mercy, I let out a cold laugh, turned around, and claimed the top of the world!

When my family went bankrupt, my fiancé teamed up with my best friend and sold me to an underground club to pay off their debts.
To secure an investment, that scumbag handed me over to the most powerful kingmaker on Wall Street.
But the moment the call connected, I froze.
The big shot my cheating ex was groveling to was actually my first love—the man I dumped five years ago because he was poor.
Looking at the smug jerk who still had no idea who he was dealing with, I let out a cold laugh.
A deadly revenge game had just begun.

To win back his one true love, my husband sent me, pregnant and vulnerable, straight into the clutches of a rival mob's dungeon.
I was torn apart by vicious dogs, a brutal end for both me and my unborn child.
After death, my spirit drifted back home, only to hear him coldly chuckle, "Let her learn her lesson; she won't come back until she admits she was wrong."
It wasn't until a mangled, rotting body was dumped at his feet, and he saw the blood-soaked wedding ring on its finger, that this heartless mob boss finally snapped...

My brother chose my enemy, and the man I loved joined forces with her to sell me into a club.
Pregnancy, miscarriage, imprisonment, beatings—every cry for help I made was dismissed as "just an act."
It wasn't until I was truly dead that they lost their minds, dropping to their knees at my grave and sobbing that they were sorry.
But by then, I could no longer hear them.

On my son's seventh birthday, he hid behind my husband's first love and shouted at me, "You're a bad woman! She's my real mom!"
My husband was even crueler. He threw me out of the house without a second thought.
"To me, you were nothing but a surrogate."
Heartbroken, I walked away—and later adopted an abandoned little boy.
Years passed, when my husband finally learned the truth about the woman he had always protected, he came to me with our biological son, both of them kneeling before me in tears, begging for forgiveness.
Holding my adopted son's hand, I smiled calmly.
"Sorry. I only have one son."

My daughter was choked until her face turned purple by the mistress's son, then nearly died after my ex-husband forced her to give blood.
She was beaten, cursed at, and abandoned on a bench outside the hospital.
And I could do nothing to help her.
Because I had already died eight years ago.
It wasn't until my daughter collapsed crying at my grave—and the story made the news—that my ex-husband finally learned the truth.
He had destroyed both me and the child we shared in the cruelest way possible.
And by then, there was no fixing it.

At the scene of the car accident, my parents frantically scooped up my sister—who only had a scraped knee—then kicked me aside as I lay there dying.
"Don't be a burden to your sister. Just wait by the roadside and croak!"
They drove off without a second thought. In that moment, my heart turned to stone.
What they didn't know was that I didn't die. Instead, I got adopted by a top-tier professor and became a math prodigy worth tens of millions.
Two years later, when my birth parents went bankrupt and got on their knees begging me for a handout, I smiled coldly and played the recording of their attempted murder...

Everyone in town said I dumped my blind boyfriend because I couldn't stand being poor.
Five years later, I'd become a blind drifter myself, relying on handouts just to eat.
And he'd become one of Silicon Valley's hottest rising tech moguls.
He recognized me, but pretended he didn't.
He wanted me on my knees. Wanted me begging. Wanted me to pay for "abandoning" him.
Until he found out the person who gave up everything for him back then was no one else...
But me.

In my past life, I was pregnant and met a gruesome end, torn apart by the mad dog my cop husband kept, taking both my life and my baby's.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I discovered I was pregnant.
My seemingly perfect husband, the epitome of a good man, smiled as he brought me muffins laced with rat poison. My seemingly kind in-laws watched me intently, eager for me to swallow the deadly treat...
That's when it hit me: the perfect marriage I thought I had was actually a family conspiracy for murder!
This time, I refuse to be the lamb led to slaughter. If you want my life and my child's, then you'll all be begging for mercy in hell!

Six years of hauling corpses. Six years of scraping maggots out of floorboards and suffocating in a toxic slurry of putrefying flesh and industrial solvents—all just to buy my husband a little more borrowed time.

I thought the thing I pulled back from the brink of death was a human being.

But the day my joint accounts were frozen... the moment my own son clamped a hand over his nose in disgust at my stench... the second I watched his mistress weeping softly into his chest... I finally realized the truth.

I hadn't saved a man. I had resurrected a pack of monsters, and they weren't going to stop until they ground me into the dirt.

At our engagement party, my fiancé's first love confessed her feelings for him in front of everyone.
Without a second thought, he shoved me aside and ran after her, leaving me to be hit by a car.
While I was in the hospital, he brought her into our home and forced me to eat food I was allergic to.
Most absurd of all, he personally sent me to the operating table so I could give her my kidney.
She tortured my cat to death, and all he said was, "It was just a cat."
The day I decided to leave the country, he thought I had died in a plane crash. Then he got into a car accident and lost his memory, remembering only the version of us at eighteen—when we were in love.
Too bad some scars never fade.

I was betrayed, cheated on, and ruthlessly schemed against by my own husband. Cornered by him and his mistress, I was forced to leap off a cliff. No one expected that I would survive the fatal fall. I carved out a bloody path for myself in Silicon Valley and rose to become the sharpest, youngest queen across the entire capital circle. Three years later, he knelt before me in utter disarray, weeping brokenly. Meanwhile, draped in a white wedding gown, I was held securely in my bridegroom’s arms. It was in that moment that he finally comprehended—losing me was the harshest retribution he would ever endure for the rest of his life.

My brother chose my enemy, and the man I loved joined forces with her to sell me into a club.
Pregnancy, miscarriage, imprisonment, beatings—every cry for help I made was dismissed as "just an act."
It wasn't until I was truly dead that they lost their minds, dropping to their knees at my grave and sobbing that they were sorry.
But by then, I could no longer hear them.

When my own father pinned me against the reef and ripped my scales off one by one, my sister buried herself in my fiancé's arms and cried. "Don't blame my sister. She was born worthless."
Right there in front of everyone, they decided to offer me to the Sea God as a sacrifice. They couldn't even be bothered to send anyone to see me off.
But when I was dragged, half-dead, into the black prison, what came for me wasn't death.
It was the Sea God himself.
He wiped the blood from my tail and said, "Good. Let them keep piling on their sins. I'll make them drop to their knees and beg for your forgiveness."

A wealthy heir was ordered to seduce me, intending to photograph me in compromising positions to destroy my reputation.
At midnight, his hands trembled as he prepared to send the photos, but I coldly exposed his cowardice and ambition.
That night, he deleted all the evidence before my eyes, his gaze filled with complete fanaticism and submission.
Later, he knelt on one knee with a diamond ring, but I poured myself a drink: "I don't need a partner to share power with—I just need an obedient dog."

On my wedding night, I discovered the man in my bed wasn't my husband.
It was his twin brother—the one the family had exiled.
In my previous life, I exposed them in a rage.
My cheating husband came back, smashed my head open, and threw me into the ocean to be fed to the sharks.
But this time, reborn with a second chance, I cupped the face of the man in front of me—the face identical to my husband's—and slowly untied my wedding dress.
"Since he personally delivered you to my bed, then from now on... you're the husband."
This time, I'm going to raise up the loyal stand-in, and take everything from that bastard.

At the age of twenty seven, Amaya White has been dumped more times than she could remember. She's got a happy family, perfect body, dream job, but a spiteful boss who seemingly always ruins her chances of getting her greatest wish granted.
What's her greatest wish?
That would be to get her cherry popped in the hardest and craziest way ever.
Weird right?
Billionaire Jacques Dickens is one of the most influential young CEO in Australia. He's a man with a poker face, cold personality and hardened heart.
Dating isn't his thing.
Love is thorn on his skin.
Everyday he works his @ss off just to make RORY'S WEARS the best.
The company his late father had left in his care. The company he has to protect from the prying clasps of his toxic stepmother.
Just when he thought he's taking it to the next level, he lost his company and his life and everything became meaningless. However, he was lucky enough to be given another chance. A new life to set things right.
Will he be able to make the best use of his second life?

There can never be more embarrassing than finding a naked guy in the middle of nowhere, but he is asking for help, and Sybil doesn’t have the heart to leave him alone. And so, she takes him home. Ace proves himself to be a decent guy. But what can be worse than two strangers with no memories falling in love and then later finding out the sad truth their memories hide?
Little do they know… the worst is yet to come.
Are they ready for it?
Will their love story lead to a happy ending, or will they choose vengeance instead of love?