70 Book(s) Related to noah schnapp cute

BLURB

Eli Morgan had spent years trying to survive Noah Carter.

Unfortunately, Noah Carter seemed determined to ruin his life.

As The College’s swim captain, campus heartthrob, and his older brother’s best friend, Noah had made teasing Eli his personal hobby, touching him too casually, acting possessive whenever Eli liked someone, and somehow inserting himself into every part of Eli’s life.

And somehow?

Nobody else thought it was weird.

Not even Ethan, Eli’s perfect older brother.

But when Eli finally starts dating someone seriously, Noah’s behavior changes from annoying to dangerous. The teasing becomes jealousy. The casual touches become possessive. And the tension between them becomes impossible to ignore.

A single solo trip changed Evan’s life forever, one he never imagined would lead him into the hands of the ruthless mafia boss, Iosif. Forced into his world, Iosif becomes Evan’s worst nightmare, leaving scars Evan can never forget.

Just when Evan finally begins living an ordinary life again, Iosif returns, this time as his savior. But salvation comes with a price. Iosif’s love is obsessive, possessive, and dangerous.

Will Evan be able to accept Iosif’s twisted devotion… or will it destroy him all over again?

"Bite my tongue and I'll cut your throat."He warned, before I could register what he meant, his lips crushed on mine. His tongue locked with mine.
For the first time in history, a mute human girl marries a brooding lycan king to keep peace between humans and werewolves. Romantic, right? Not for Rath—he's definitely not thrilled about tying the knot with a fragile-looking human, even if she is distractingly gorgeous.
Dahlia may look innocent, with her soft eyes and silent demeanor, but there's something... off. Her gaze is sharp enough to slice through lies, and if you're whispering secrets nearby, don't bother—she already knows.
While Rath tries to ignore the magnetic pull toward his new wife, Dahlia is just trying to survive in a world where she's not wanted—and by her own husband, no less. But there's more to Dahlia than anyone suspects. She has something he needs, and a secret so dark, even she doesn't remember it... yet.
Will Dahlia remember her dark sinister truth and use it against Rath or will Rath's sharp skills sniff it out and destroy her with her own darkness?

"You know what? Your expression when playing chess looks like you're about to murder someone," I laugh, cornering his king. "Checkmate."

In that moment, I catch a flash of surprise in his eyes, followed by a dark emotion I can't quite decipher.

He stands abruptly, his tall figure looming over me. "No one wins at my game, Miss Valencia. No one."


Oliver Kang, a twenty-eight-year-old billionaire, carries a secret beneath his icy exterior—a rare condition that makes human touch unbearable, leaving him isolated in a world of wealth and power. His life of calculated precision shatters the night he catches Dallas Valencia attempting to steal from his mansion.

Their deal is simple: work as his maid or face the police. But when Oliver discovers something impossible—that Dallas's touch doesn't trigger his painful reactions—his carefully constructed walls begin to crumble.

Dallas Valencia never planned to become the personal maid to New York's coldest billionaire. With an empty bank account and a stubborn spirit, she accepts his ultimatum, determined to endure his arrogance until she can escape. What she never expected was to become the only person who could physically touch him—the cure to his lifelong affliction.

"What have you done to me?" he traps me against the wall one night, his voice low and raspy. "Why is it only you?"

Olivia was drugged by her own younger sister and accidentally had a one-night stand with Michael.
After getting pregnant, Olivia gave birth to twins, but her sister stole one of them.
Five years later, Olivia returned with her daughter.
When she saw her sister again, she had already married Michael. Olivia was shocked - how could her sister's daughter look exactly like her own daughter?
Elder daughter: "No wonder I found this woman so vicious - turns out she's not my real mom!"
Younger daughter: "How dare she separate me from my dear sister for so long and bully my mommy! I'm going to send this woman to hell!"

When innocent and naive Dr. Emily Brown, a small-town girl turned city resident, meets Marco "Lucifer" Santoro, the ruthless and cunning mafia boss, she's thrust into a world of danger and desire. Their chance encounter ignites a fiery passion that neither can ignore, and Emily finds herself torn between her sheltered upbringing and the dark allure of Marco's world.

As Emily navigates the treacherous underworld, she must confront her own desires and the secrets that threaten to destroy them. Marco, haunted by his own demons, is determined to claim Emily as his own, but can he protect her from the darkness that surrounds him?

As their love deepens, Emily is forced to confront the devil within Marco and the true cost of loving a man with a heart of stone. Will their love be the key to redemption, or will it destroy them both?"

No one knew I was an addict.
Not to alcohol, not to drugs, but to the rawest, dirtiest kind of union.
To keep up the facade of this respectable job, to stop myself from turning into some desperate, heat-crazed stray begging for a man’s touch on the street, I had to swallow those little blue pills every day.
Until that damn blizzard trapped me with thirty hockey players reeking of sweat and testosterone, and my pills—gone.

In The Silent Cut, Detective Lena Carver, a tenacious 35 year old haunted by her brother Ethan’s unsolved death, investigates the murder of tech mogul Adrian Wells in the gritty coastal city of Port Haven. Staged as a suicide with a cryptic note “The truth is buried”the case reeks of conspiracy. Lena’s instincts lead her to Nexus DataCorp, a shadowy corporation running an illegal surveillance empire. With the help of quirky hacker Riley Voss, Lena uncovers ties between the murder, Nexus’ blackmail scheme, and Ethan’s death five years earlier. As she digs deeper, obstacles intensify: a whistleblower, Sarah Lin, vanishes after a cryptic warning; Lena’s apartment is ransacked; and a car bomb nearly kills her. Betrayed by her precinct chief and framed for corruption, Lena goes rogue, navigating a web of deceit involving a powerful senator and Nexus’ ruthless fixer, Victor Kane. At a high-stakes gala, Lena faces Kane in a tense showdown, learning he orchestrated Ethan’s death. Forced to choose between saving Sarah or exposing Nexus, Lena outsmarts Kane, leaking evidence to the press. Though she clears her name and exposes the senator, Kane escapes, and Nexus’ CEO remains untouchable, hinting at a larger network. Scarred but resolute, Lena rejects a promotion, reconciles with her mother, and receives an ominous message “They’re still watching”setting the stage for future battles. This suspenseful crime thriller blends personal stakes, corporate corruption, and relentless action, exploring themes of justice, betrayal, and redemption.

Treated like a commodity by my own parents, I reluctantly agreed to marry Benjamin, the man rumored to die before his twenty-fifth birthday. But can someone please tell me why he's so devastatingly handsome that he makes my knees weak?

I thought I was walking into a trap, but instead he spoiled me beyond belief. He stood up for me, crushed every scumbag in his path, and protected me under his powerful wing. Yet every night, he would reveal a painful and dangerous side of himself, and the jade pendant around my neck seemed to be mysteriously connected to the secrets he carried...

Six wives have died trying to break his curse. Now the kingdom demands an heir and his enemies are waiting for him to fall.

King Alaric, called the Alaric the Avenger, has lost all hope. Rebellion is rising and an old prophecy threatens his rule. Tired and broken, he leaves his crown behind for one reckless night. He never expects to meet Freya, a strong hybrid warrior who makes him question fate itself.

One night. One hidden bond. A connection that should never exist.

When Freya is betrayed by her own family and handed over to Alaric as a prisoner, both are forced to face a truth they are not ready for. Freya hates Alaric for destroying her world. Alaric fears that if Freya dies, his curse may still be alive. Yet the pull between them is powerful and dangerous.

As lies spread through the royal court, enemies move closer and war breaks out across the land. Freya becomes the key to everything: Alaric’s hope, his ruin and the future of two kingdoms at war. But love built on secrets has a price and betrayal hurts most when it comes from those closest to the throne.

In a world ruled by prophecy, power and blood, will love finally break the curse or destroy them both?

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

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

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

My daughter burned in the explosion.

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

The Alaskan winds cut across my face like knives, but only one thought consumed me—why hadn't Madison shown up to get me? In ten years, my sister had never failed to be there.

Until I walked in on my brother-in-law tangled up with some blonde bitch, and my world shattered. "Fallen through ice in a blizzard"? What a goddamn lie. They cut open her eight-month pregnant belly to steal her baby—while she was still conscious. They let her suffer for 47 excruciating minutes before she died.

I didn't break out of the psych ward to cry about it. I came back so these monsters can pay their blood debts in full. They think I was born wicked? Fine. Let me show them exactly how it feels to have your living body sliced open.

His breath comes out sharp. “You’re so fucking full of yourself it's ridiculous.”
“You haven’t told me to stop,” I murmur.
His fingers twitch like he wants to hit me or grab me, maybe both.
He turns his head away like he’s trying to find oxygen, but I can see it, the flush in his neck, the pulse beating fast under my thumb, the way his body gives him away even while his mouth keeps lying.
I press my body into his, chest to chest, heat to heat.
“You want to hate me. Fine. Hate me all you want. But don’t fucking lie to yourself. Don’t pretend your cock doesn’t get hard every time I say your name.”
He groans, a sound caught between frustration and need.

Xander never meant to get involved. Two years ago he stumbled into an alley and locked eyes with a stranger beating someone bloody.
That stranger was Jax.
Since then, he's found himself thinking of the guy an unhealthy amount. He was a fantasy for two whole years...until he wasn't. Now they circle each other like fire and gasoline...sparking, burning, never quite touching without leaving marks. Xander isn’t used to being overpowered. But Jax dominates like he was born to, and Xander hates how much he craves it.
It’s push and pull. Bite and bleed. Want and denial.....
Jax hides behind silence and shadows. A violent past, darker urges, walls built out of barbed wire. But Xander keeps digging, keeps fucking showing up, and that scares Jax more than anything. Because Xander isn’t just scratching the surface.
He’s reaching in and pulling Jax apart. And the deeper they fall, the more dangerous it gets.
✨He was supposed to be a pastime. Not a craving. But some obsessions don’t burn out. They burn through.✨

It took her five years to follow her own wishes and marry him. Yet he sold her to the Resorts World LA, killed their baby with his own hands...... What he did reduced her to the unprecedented misery and uncountable unhappiness. However, when she finally got rid of her love for him, which was like a poisonous thorn, he changed his mind and begged her to stay as if he"s gone mad. But for her, none of them mattered--love or reputation. He"d rather die than crawl back to the grave he built for her!

I was reborn twelve hours before the anomaly occurred.

In my previous life, I died tragically in a sea of fire, unable to even protect my three-year-old daughter.

In this life, I returned from hell with the "Shadow" that rules the abyss, only to discover that the only antidote to ending the wasteland lies in my daughter's palm.

Her ex-wife, who was possessed by a monster, the greedy military, and even "myself" who went mad across parallel universes all tried to tear her apart and suck her blood.

You want to harm my daughter? Fine. Then let's see if you can withstand this all-consuming polar night!

My chosen mate used his Beta authority to give the entire moonbloom compound to his fated mate's daughter.
The healer had said to split it—half for each child. Both would live. He overrode her. Gave the full dose to Rosalie Blackwell.
He wanted a full recovery. Just not for ours.
Three days later, my daughter Wren's organs shut down. She died on her birthday, still asking why Daddy wasn't there. The dress I'd made her—white with little silver wolves along the hem—she never got to put it on.
That same day, his fated's daughter walked out of the healing hall completely cured. He even threw a feast for the whole pack.
I collapsed at the border of Thornecrest territory. The healers told me it was cancer. Late-stage. Nothing left to treat.
Now I sat alone in our empty house with Wren's unworn birthday dress across my lap and drafted the dissolution papers.

I just got my billionaire husband to sign our divorce papers. He thinks it’s another business document.
Our marriage was a business transaction. I was his secretary by day, his invisible wife by night. He got a CEO title and a rebellion against his mother; I got the money to save mine.
The only rule? Don’t fall in love.
I broke it. He didn’t.
So I’m cashing out. Thirty days from now, I’m gone.
But now he’s noticing me. Touching me. Claiming me. The same man who flaunts his mistresses is suddenly burning down a nightclub because another man insulted me.
He says he’ll never let me go. But he has no idea I’m already halfway out the door.
How far will a billionaire go to keep a wife he never wanted until she tried to leave?

The remote vacation villa was saturated with suffocating male testosterone.
Deep in the night, my life-saving suppressants inexplicably vanished. The moment the drugs wore off, my unspeakable secret—my sex addiction—unleashed its most violent, lethal backlash in history.
What was even more fatal was that, through a twisted twist of fate, the man I was forced to share a room with tonight was my stepbrother, renowned for his absolute abstinence and cold, iron-fisted ruthlessness.
I thought that once my embarrassingly out-of-control, in-heat state was exposed, he would treat me like a monster and kick me away in disgust.
But I never expected—
This aloof man, who usually wouldn't even spare me a glance, now carried an irresistible, scorching aggression, ruthlessly sliding his large, rough hand straight up my thoroughly soaked panties...

While I bled to death locked in a storage room, my fiancé Adrian was holding my sister's hand, comforting her.

He hung up on my final call for help, leaving only a voicemail: "If anything happens to Lena, the engagement is off."

My sister once said her birthday wish had always been for me to disappear.

That night, her wish came true early.

But my soul never left.

I watched everyone gather around her, singing happy birthday.

As she blew out the candles, I whispered in her ear:

"Enjoy it while it lasts. This will be your last birthday."

In my past life, I exposed my cousin Isolde's deadly secret just to save Darius from absolute ruin, binding myself to him in a Soul Pact instead.

My reward?

At three months pregnant, Darius chained me to a water dungeon altar, carved my stomach open alive, and smashed our unborn child to pieces right in front of my eyes—all as a twisted sacrifice to my cousin who supposedly "died for love."

When I opened my eyes again, I was right back at the Pact Selection Ceremony.

Watching him pull her into his arms like some priceless treasure, I simply smiled and took a tactful step back.

In this life, I am going to sit back and watch the two of them burn in hell together.

Five months pregnant, I clung to the faint hope that my unborn baby and loving husband Liam would bring me warmth. But strapped to an operating table, I heard his cold order as the blade sliced my belly: cut out the fetus and discard it as medical waste—don’t delay Chloe’s kidney transplant.
My stepmother cheered next door, thrilled her daughter would get my kidney. They planned to drain me dry and leave me to die quietly. Little did they know, their brutal cruelty burned itself into my bones. When I crawl back from hell, I will break every last one of them.

“End the ceremony,” Prince Kael ordered, his cloak wrapped around another woman’s shoulders.

Our six-year-old son stood beneath the moon glass, wings trembling, the royal binding already burning under his skin. If the ritual stopped now, Rowan could be scarred for life.

Kael did not even look at him.

So I picked up the sacred blade and pressed it to the bond mark in my palm.

“You wanted freedom,” I said. “Take it.”

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.

Olivia had lived in pain for most of her life. Because of her unusually large body, people spat at her wherever she went, tripped her in front of hallway lockers, humiliated her openly.
The only light in her life was the man she had secretly loved.
He was the golden boy of campus, never short of girls to dance with. They had a one-night stand—but later, at a fraternity gathering, he mocked her, laughing about how she smelled disgusting.
The past has a way of resurfacing when you least expect it.
Olivia Evans thought she had left her painful past behind. Once known as Emma Cooper, the fat girl constantly humiliated by her classmates, she buried those memories along with her old identity. Changing her name and transforming her life, Olivia became someone far from the girl who once carried qthe weight of ridicule. But when she walks into a clinic with her daughter and comes face-to-face with Noah Ezekiel Morgan, the man who once shattered her heart, everything she tried to forget comes rushing back.
Now, with her daughter’s life hanging in the balance and a high school reunion she never planned to attend, Olivia is forced to confront the man who hurt her deeply. Will she keep her true identity a secret, or will the emotions she’s kept buried for so long rise to the surface?
The weight of the past may be harder to carry than she ever imagined.

An epic cold snap struck, causing temperatures to plummet to minus eighty degrees Celsius.
My fiancée and best friend occupied my hillside villa, laughing hysterically as they watched a video of me nearly freezing to death.
In their eyes, once I turned into a solid block of ice, they could rightfully inherit my vast fortune and live in this warm, doomsday Noah's Ark.
But what they didn't know was that the video was n't real at all .
I stood in the temperature-controlled bunker twenty meters below them and cut off their main power.
The hunt was about to begin.

I’m Emily, a criminal investigator in Emerald City. After a vice crackdown, I refused a transfer—only to realize someone was tailing me on my way home at night…

A young couple recently moved in right across the hall from us.
The husband, Richard, works as an auditor at City Hall. His wife, Chloe, is the morning show host for a local TV network.
Chloe is about five-foot-three, with curves in all the right places. Her entire being radiates an unignorable, mature housewife charm—she is absolutely gorgeous.
Richard is a serious whiskey enthusiast and often invites me over to the patio for a couple of drinks, so our families quickly grew close. My wife, Sarah, and Chloe, in particular, became like sisters the moment they started talking about Sephora's new releases and luxury bags. They could easily gossip for an entire weekend.
And that... gave me an opportunity.

My grandfather was a thief.

He did not steal money.

He stole my grandmother's name, her return papers, and the life that should have carried her out of the mountains.

Fifty years later, his granddaughter sat across from me in a law firm interview and smiled like the world already belonged to her.

I opened her file, saw the family name, and closed the folder.

"You didn't pass."

Clara Whitman-Harlan had been called graceful because no one had ever seen what it cost her to stay quiet. For ten years, she made Grant Harlan look like a man who had built an empire by discipline and vision. She hosted the dinners, calmed the vendors, moved money before payroll became a headline, and remembered which investor had a daughter with asthma and which supplier hated lilies. She kept every thank-you note, every invoice, and every awkward receipt that proved the Harlan fortune had not grown from Grant's charm alone.

Then a pregnant employee appeared in his calendar. Grant denied the affair. His mother blamed Clara for the child she had never had. The other woman smiled like innocence in a white dress. At a charity gala packed with donors, suppliers, family friends, and investors, they prepared a family trust for Clara to sign, supposedly for an unborn baby, quietly designed to transfer Clara's homes, dividends, and company rights into another woman's hands. They thought Clara would protect their name one last time. They forgot she had spent a decade protecting herself.

t the most expensive medical charity gala in Manhattan, Avery Hale came in through the service corridor because she hated cameras. She wore a black dress without a label, carried her own coat, and kept her name off every donor wall.

That was the point. For seven years, Avery had hidden the money she made from film scores and documentary royalties inside an anonymous foundation that paid for surgeries, trials, and second chances for children whose families had run out of all three. She had built Second Dawn quietly because quiet was the one thing her old family had never been able to take from her.

Then the Mercers saw her.

The parents who had adopted her and discarded her. The golden son they had asked her to fund, praise, and disappear for. The family that once called her selfish for wanting college now called her a fraud for standing in a room she had paid to build.

They thought Avery had slipped into the gala to beg. They thought the powerful man watching from the edge of the ballroom was only another rich stranger. They thought public shame would make her small again.

They were wrong about every part of her.

Married for seven years, I lived my life like an absolute joke.
For the sake of my brother, my wife personally uprooted the roses I had so painstakingly cultivated. To please her uncle, my daughter pointed at my nose and called me a "bad daddy."
The entire family even held a vote to force me to donate my bone marrow. My wife, Elena, raised her hand without a second thought: "You'll just lose a little bone marrow. Liam will die without you."
In that moment, my heart died.
The surgery was a success.
As the anesthesia wore off, Elena was holding my hand tightly. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice trembled with remorse: "Aaron, I was a jerk before. As long as you were willing to save Liam, I will love only you for the rest of my life."
She thought I would be as pathetically grateful as a dog, begging for her affection and humbly forgiving her.
But I merely frowned in disgust and pulled my hand back as if shaking off garbage.
In the dead silence, I looked at this tearful woman before me and asked, politely yet confused:
"Excuse me, ma'am... who are you?"

"What the hell, it even has haptic vibration feedback? Are they seriously making these things this realistic now?"

Taking advantage of my roommate being out on a sales call, I tossed this ridiculously expensive "high-end realistic doll" onto my bed.

Watching her body tremble slightly, almost uncontrollably, the twisted fire in my gut burned even hotter.

"Baby, here I come!"

At the company's annual client appreciation dinner, I was the one in charge of booking the venue.
To save the company money, I picked my aunt's upscale restaurant with a skyline view. Since we were family, she only charged us at cost. When I posted the details in our Slack channel to confirm with the team, no one had any objections—except for the intern, who slowly tagged me in the chat:
[Arthur, I don't mean anything by it.]
[I just want to ask—how big a kickback did you get for booking your family's restaurant?]
[After all, the money for this dinner is coming out of our bonus pool.]
[So you should return that money to the rest of us, right?]
The other coworkers started liking the message and chiming in to support him.
So I dropped the whole thing on the spot and handed the task over to that intern, who loved talking about "fixing workplace injustice."
Then the night of the dinner came.
From the CEO all the way down to the investors, everyone was pinned on the deck and searched by armed Coast Guard officers.
The most important client contact collapsed from a heart attack on the spot and was airlifted by helicopter straight to the ICU, costing the company a multimillion-dollar enterprise cybersecurity contract.

I am the nameless corpse dumped in an alley, left without a head or limbs.
My mother is the lead detective on the case.
She stood outside the crime scene tape, pinching her nose in disgust. "Another street rat who got what she deserved. Just like my own useless daughter—always out running wild."
I hovered above, watching her step over my mutilated body, cooing gently into the phone with my stepsister—while the last call I made to her for help, the night I died, went unanswered.
Not until the medical examiner pried the bloodstained birthday necklace from my stiff fingers.
Not until forensics restored the audio file on my phone, and my final desperate plea echoed out: "Mom, help me..."
Only then did Detective Sarah—Chicago's coldest cop—collapse in front of that pile of "trash," her wail of grief tearing through the night.

For seven years of marriage, I've been silent in front of my wife.
It's not that I don't have anything to say; it's just that she can hear everyone's voice—except mine, which seems to trigger her sensitivity.
I've tried everything to change my voice, even going under the knife to fix my vocal cords.
But no matter how hard I try, she just ends up in pain, covering her ears.
I've broken down countless times, feeling like I've let her down.
Until the day of our daughter's birthday.
My daughter stood at the front door, grinning, and said, "Mom, can I pretend to be voice-sensitive like you?"

The year I loved Edward the most, I was envied by everyone in Copper Valley.
They called me the priceless treasure in the palms of my father and my husband.
I was the most precious pregnant woman in the whole Copper Valley.
But before Christmas, when I went to give my husband a surprise, I saw him kissing the cheek of Angela, the daughter of my father's lover.
His friends praised his high-handed means, athat he could actually persuade me to have a fake marriage with him.
"Fake marriage?" I frowned.
Edward told them, "Lucy has everything. Angela has been a bastard for more than twenty years. I should compensate."
I left the club in despair and then replied to the mysterious text message on my phone.
[I can accept you as the nominal father of my child.]

Reunited, I became the “perfect wife” Julian had always dreamed of.
I didn’t ask where he was when he didn’t come home.
When his “one that got away” came to our door to provoke me, I greeted her with a polite smile.
I even caught them in the act, and instead of screaming, I thoughtfully closed the door for them.
The Elara who used to break down in hysterics over his infidelity was dead.

The woman standing here now was nothing more than a shell, existing solely for her daughter.
Finally, Julian began to panic. He knelt in the pouring rain, begging me to curse him, begging me to still love him—or even hate him.
But as I looked down at him, I didn’t just feel nothing. I felt sick.
"Julian, I don't hate you."
I just find every second spent with you utterly disgusting.

My first love was adopted by our family, and he promised he would always be there for me.
But after my dad passed away in a car accident, I found him with another woman in our bedroom.
He told everyone Caroline was his true love—that he only saw me as a sister—and claimed I was the one who was pestering him.
I was shamed by everyone. The stress gave my mother a stroke, and Caroline even had someone run me over, costing me an eye.
Seven years later, holding flowers, I ran into them outside a convenience store.
Arthur's son looked at me pityingly. "Dad, this lady lost an eye… Is she selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

I am the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family.
After an unexpected rest, my opponent sent me a street racing invitation.
I went to my brother's company to retrieve my car, but was drugged with ether by my brother's secretary.
She told me that no one could seduce her man.
She kicked my stomach, threatened me with a paper cutter to make a vow, and said her future sister-in-law is the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family—if I dared to retaliate against her, I would die miserably.
I looked at her coldly.
Really?
But I haven't agreed to be your sister-in-law yet!

"Mmm... Tyler... I can't take it anymore..."

My wife's sexy best friend panted heavily in my private training room, her previous tough talk completely gone.

"Giving up already? We haven't even started." I grabbed her tiny waist, flipped her over, and pushed her back into the set. "Again. We're nowhere near done."

Seven years ago, Mara Vale signed a confession for the man she loved.

Grant Mercer promised it was the only way to save their future. He said the hit-and-run was an accident, that his family would hire the best lawyer, that she would be home before their baby learned to walk. Instead, Mara gave birth in prison, lost her son to Grant's polished lies, and watched him build a new life on the story of being ruined by a criminal ex-fiancee.

Now Mara is free, broke, and trained in the one craft no one in Grant's glittering world respects until they need it: the restoration of damaged photographs, burned paper, and things people thought were too ruined to speak.

When Grant's wealthy new wife hires Mara to save the Hart family archives, Mara steps into a house built on reputation, money, and locked boxes. Inside those boxes are old newspapers, altered confessions, receipts, signatures, and ashes that remember the truth better than any person dared to.

Grant stole Mara's name, her son, and seven years of her life. He is about to learn that some things cannot return to what they were, but they can still be restored.

Seven years of marriage, and I was nothing but a joke.
My husband destroyed the roses I'd spent years nurturing—just to please my sister. My son, desperate for his aunt's approval, pointed at me and called me a "bad mom."
One day, the whole family took a vote to force me into donating bone marrow. Ethan, my husband, didn't hesitate. He raised his hand and said, "Erin, it's just a little bone marrow. Leah will die without you."
That was the moment my heart broke.
The surgery was a success.
When the anesthesia wore off, Ethan was gripping my hand tightly, eyes bloodshot, voice trembling with remorse. "Erin, I was a fool before. If you save Leah, I swear I'll spend the rest of my life loving only you."
He thought I'd grovel, grateful like a dog, desperate for his forgiveness.
But I just frowned in disgust and pulled my hand away as if shaking off trash.
In the dead silence, I looked at the tear-streaked man before me and asked, polite and confused:
"Sir... who are you?"

At the school's field day, my six-year-old son pointed straight at me and shouted for everyone to hear, "I'd rather be alone than with her! She's the worst mom in the world!"
He hated that I couldn't afford expensive toys, hated that we lived in a tiny apartment, hated that I was just a useless woman.
Then he turned and ran straight into the arms of the woman who destroyed my family, calling her name in the sweetest voice, just because she handed him an ice cream.
My ex-husband leaned against his luxury car, sneering, "Nora, if you admit you were wrong, I'll let you come back. We can get married again."
Looking at their smug faces, I finally let go of the hands I'd been gripping tightly for four years.
"All right," I said, smiling as I signed away custody, "Since you two love each other so much, I hope you and your perfect little family enjoy every minute together."
They thought I was playing hard to get, but they had no idea—this time, I really meant it.

"Hey, easy on the thrusts, I can barely stand."

Inside a top-tier nightclub in Los Angeles, the heavy bass was making the floorboards vibrate. I took advantage of the crowd and pressed tightly against the girl in front of me.

She was wearing a strapless, tight little black dress, her hands waving in the air, her perfectly shaped ass shaking wildly to the beat.

God help me, she was completely commando under that dress!

What excited me even more was that she didn't reject my advances at all; instead, she started actively accommodating them.

My buddy Ron had been a miserable wreck for days, whining about how some young girl had scammed him out of his cash.
After pressing him for details, I found out the girl worked at a massage therapy parlor.
Fired up with the idea of getting some payback for my brother, I headed over to this "blind massage" joint...
Only to find myself tumbling headfirst into the very same honey trap.

After I took in my first love, she promised she'd always be good to me.
But after my mother died in a car accident, I found her in our home—with another man.
She told everyone Colin was her true love, that I was just a little brother she never wanted, and that I was the one who couldn't let go.
Everyone turned against me. My father had a stroke from the rage. Colin even had someone run me over—cost me an eye.
Seven years later.
I stood outside a convenience store holding flowers when I saw them.
Audrey's daughter looked at me with pity. "Mom, that man only has one eye... Is he selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

Nora Vale inherits three million dollars and a ruined seaside motel from an aunt her family called impossible.

She tells no one. Not even Rowan, her exhausted mechanic husband, who has spent years letting his family drain him dry.

Instead, Nora tells one dangerous lie: her design studio has collapsed, and she has lost everything.

Rowan does not blame her. He does not leave. He takes her hand and says, "Then we rebuild. You and me."

But the inheritance is not just money. Harbor Mile Motel hides records of a predatory company buying coastal properties through debt, fear, and family pressure. Rowan's brother is involved. Nora's aunt may not have died as quietly as everyone believed.

Now Nora must learn that money can buy time, repairs, and lawyers, but it cannot buy trust. And Rowan must decide whether the woman who lied to test his love is still the woman he wants to build a future with.

Clara Vale lost her award, her career, and her dignity on the same red carpet.

The world thought she ran to hide.

They were wrong.

She ran to the only place that had ever made her feel clean: a mountain town above the snowline, where a quiet rescue captain named Elias Roan had lived in her secret account, her unfinished letters, and her heart for three years.

But shame follows fast. So does the man who ruined her.

And when Clara's past climbs the mountain to destroy her one last time, Elias may be the only person willing to stand between her and the crowd.