8040 Book(s) Related to born of ruin series 1 the last witch of solaria

Dr. Mara Venn had survived twelve years in trauma medicine by trusting what she could prove: blood pressure, pupil response, scan results, time of death.

Then blue letters appeared in the air outside Mercy Gate Medical Center, warning her not to enter an operating room.

The patient was already dead.

The surgery was a trap.

And if Mara went back inside, a powerful hospital family would bury a man's death under her name.

Three years ago, I took off the ring and became a mechanic, just to keep a promise to my brother — to protect his widow and daughter.

Three years later, Connor from Brooklyn tried to force my brother's daughter into marriage, blacklisted me from every job, and had the hospital turn away my sister-in-law.

They thought I was just some grease monkey.

They didn't know the ring had a lion carved on it.

When I put it back on...

The entire underworld of New York would tremble.

In my past life, my best friend Isla was the one sacrificed to Blackstone Island. She was sent to fulfill the ancient covenant between humans and Shifters—to marry that cold-blooded Black Dragon Guard Captain, Sebastian.

The result? A tragedy.

Isla was tormented by Valerie, Sebastian’s childhood friend, who used the most despicable schemes to break her. And Sebastian? He remained an oblivious, arrogant statue for thirty years, watching Isla wither away like a rose drained of life. She spent her entire existence wilting in the shadows of his palace.

As for me, I followed my family’s orders and married an accountant named Ryan. But the warrior's blood of a martial arts clan runs through my veins, while Ryan was a spineless coward who loathed my "wildness." I found him calculating; he found me untameable. We divorced within two years, and I died alone and forgotten.

But the heavens have given me a second chance. I’ve been reborn!

The covenant between our races only demands a daughter of my family—it never specified which one. This time, I'm not letting Isla go to that hellhole. If a dragon needs a bride, he's getting me.

I died betrayed on my wedding altar.
The silver blade in my sister's hand felt colder than our shared childhood. My "fated mate" Kaelen held me down as she carved out my heart—a sacrifice for his ambition.
In my final breath, I saw him: Fenrir, the half-blood guard I'd scorned, breaking through a wall of spears to reach me. Silver arrows pierced his chest mid-leap, but his dying eyes held no blame—only a loyalty that followed me into darkness.
The Moon Goddess heard my dying vow.
Now I'm back, standing where it all began—the mate choosing ceremony. Kaelen expects me to declare him again. My sister waits to play her victim.
But this time, I walk past the golden Alpha and kneel before the broken slave.
"Rise," I whisper, lifting his chin. "The real Luna has come home."
And when they laugh at my choice, they don't see what I do: the ancient power stirring beneath his skin, the king waiting to be awakened.
Let them call him monster. Let them call me mad.
We'll show them what happens when a betrayed Luna and a fallen king unite.
The altar awaits its true sacrifice—and it won't be me this time.

She saved her husband with scorched flesh, raised her son with dying breath, yet was abandoned, insulted, and left to freeze in the snow. When she vanished into the deep sea, all the liars finally got their cruel karma.

After a forbidden night, maid Elara conceives twins for ruthless mafia Don Asher. To shield her from deadly power struggles, he fakes cruelty and puts a bounty on her head. Trapped in the murderous manor, she hides her pregnancy to survive. Cornered and hunted, she leaps into the frozen river to save her babies. After narrowly surviving childbirth, she becomes Asher’s lifelong obsession. The cold-blooded king burns all enemies, drops every pride, and kneels to atone for his sins forever.

For twenty years, Belle Sloan believed she had the perfect life, a loving husband, a devoted son, and a powerful business empire. But one shocking revelation shatters everything. The son she raised isn't hers. Her husband and stepsister have secretly loved each other for years. And the family she sacrificed everything for was nothing more than a carefully crafted lie.

The year Caleb loved me more than anything, he cut all ties with the entire Donovan mafia family, gave up his heir title, and ran away from New York with me to live on the lam out of state.
But one day, after hauling contraband and working three side jobs till his heart flared up and he coughed up blood, I took the six-million-dollar check his mom handed me and watched as his family’s guards dragged him onto a private helicopter.
He clung tight to the cabin frame, begging me not to leave like a man losing his mind.
I tossed every last dollar he’d scraped and saved for me right into the freezing pool, sneering that the tiny amount he’d managed to earn would never buy me a Steinway grand—not in a million years.
A dead-broke wreck like him had no right to talk about a future together.
Five years later, we crossed paths at an upscale charity gala.
I swallowed every ounce of my pride and begged him to lend me a sum of cash.
He said yes—on one condition. I’d be the private pianist for his engagement party, forced to sit there and watch him live out his perfect engagement for everyone to see.
I agreed without a second thought.
He’d never have the slightest clue why I was desperate for that money.
It was all to save a little girl.
A little girl who shared his blood.

At 2:00 AM, I lay in bed with my eyes closed, my fingers digging desperately into the flesh of my inner thigh.

Crack... Crunch... A stomach-churning sound of dislocating bones drifted from the foot of the bed. Immediately after, a cloying stench of dead fish rolled over the mattress.

A cold, stiff finger traced my jawline and pressed down hard on my carotid artery. It was feeling for a pulse.

"Darling..."

A bizarre, dual-layered echo came from directly above my head. A cold, bloody drop of meat juice smacked right onto my eyelid.

But I didn't dare let my breathing falter for even a fraction of a beat.

Because I knew—the thing currently staring dead at me, hanging upside down from the ceiling like a spider with its limbs bent backward, was absolutely not the wife I had spent the last ten years with.

Five years ago, I pulled a dying man from the depths of the ocean.
His name was Silas. When he woke up, he looked me in the eye and swore he'd marry me, that he'd protect me for the rest of his life.
I believed him.
I hid it from my clan, shed my tail, and followed him to land. I bore him a daughter—Winnie. I kept myself locked away in a villa, out of sight from the world. No wedding. No ring. Even the mermaid scales on Winnie's legs had to be covered up with layers and layers of concealer.
Until that night at the banquet. Zoe and her goons pinned us both to the tile by the pool, scraping the scales off Winnie's legs with a knife, sneering that this "filth" was such an eyesore.
I stroked her mangled calf, desperate for Silas to come save us. But Zoe said Silas was her fiancé.
Silas? Her fiancé?
Then what the hell am I?

Before I died, I married mob boss Dante in my sister's place.

Five years of marriage, and I was nothing but her replacement. He hated me for stealing her spot. My parents were ashamed I couldn't make him love me. Everyone just waited for her to come back.

Christmas Eve—fire tore through the mountain estate. Dante's first move? Sprint straight to my sister, fresh off the plane. My parents escaped right behind him. Nobody remembered the pregnant wife locked in the dressing room. Smoke and flames took me and my baby while they held each other outside, celebrating they'd made it out alive.

I opened my eyes on the day they cornered me with divorce papers.

My parents threw the documents at me. My sister stood there smirking, ready to slide into my place. This time? I didn't cry. Didn't beg. I picked up the pen and signed.

They wanted me gone? Done.

The apocalypse has arrived, but I am merely the villainous master in a doomsday novel.

The mission given to me by the system is to humiliate my kind-hearted fiancée, Avery.

Looking at the only dry rations left before us, I stomped them into pieces right in front of all the wasteland refugees, grinding them into the muddy ice and snow with the sole of my shoe, and commanded condescendingly:

"Bitch, lick it clean."

Instead of running away, she trembled and knelt before me submissively, lifting her head with a look of near-morbid attachment burning in her eyes.

Wait a minute, didn't the original script say she would become my mortal enemy?

Why is she kissing me?

For five years, my crime boss husband made me take off my wedding ring nine times—all for his precious damsel in distress.
When we first married, he promised me: "From now on, you're my queen, the queen of New Orleans."
But whenever Odette came crying for help, he'd change his tune: "Mr. Laurent saved my life, Cordelia. I owe his family everything."
And like a fool, I believed him eight times.
Eight times I watched from the shadows as he took another woman to our favorite restaurants.
Eight times I explained to the crew that our "separation" was just giving each other space.
Eight times I watched her move into my bedroom, use my dishes, sleep in my bed.
All for a man who kept making me slip off my ring, then slide it back on, over and over again.
Until the ninth time, when he said he needed to provide sperm for her fertility treatment, and I offered to leave.
He still thinks this is just another temporary break, expecting me to come crawling back in a month like always.
He'll never know I've already booked my ticket out of here.

Twenty-five years of being overlooked.
My husband Steven prefers my best friend Liliana, and my son Terry and grandson Roy treat me like a maid.
I thought I could endure this life forever, but when Steven gave my dream trip to Liliana, I couldn't take it anymore.
I decided to leave and stop wanting their love.

The day I won the competition, my sister's heart "failed," and she could never stand again.

From that moment, she claimed all the favoritism.

Looking at my wall of honors, she sat in her wheelchair, heartbroken: "Chloe is so amazing, unlike me—just a burden who could die any moment."

My brother's heart ached for her. He grabbed a baseball bat and smashed all my trophies to pieces, defending her honor.

When I was selected as dance troupe captain, tears streamed down her face: "If I hadn't gotten sick, could I have shined on the Lincoln Center stage too?"

My parents turned to scold me for showing off, drugging me before the audition and ruining my chances.

Later, she had a breakdown and went live on Instagram, swallowing pills while sobbing that she didn't deserve love.

My childhood sweetheart, my fiancé, rushed to her side immediately. He dropped to one knee and slipped my diamond engagement ring onto her finger.

Later, I was killed by an armed robber. As I lay dying, I made one last desperate call for help.

He hung up impatiently:

"Mia needs me to hold her hand during her IV treatment. Stop being so fucking unreasonable!"

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my sister's heart "failed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come, then.

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

Caspian kept me locked in the basement as a living blood bank.
This mafia don was also my husband. Ever since he discovered I could heal instantly, I became nothing more than a consumable—kept alive to sustain another woman.
That woman in the hospital bed was his stepmother in name, his forbidden obsession in reality—the desire he could never speak aloud.
Unable to claim her, he went mad. He tried to fill her dying body with my life.
When she was poisoned, he forced toxins down my throat to test antidotes, watching coldly as I convulsed on the floor, vomiting black blood.
When assassins came for her, he yanked me in front as a human shield, letting bullets turn my body into a sieve.
Covered in blood, I clutched his pant leg, begging through tears for him to just kill me.
But to protect his precious stepmother, he kicked me away without hesitation, his voice utterly cold: "Stop playing dead, Aria. You're a monster. You can't die anyway."
What he didn't know was that every time a mermaid heals, she burns through her soul's essence.
Through each shattering and mending, he was draining my very source of life.
Today, he strapped me to the operating table again, ready to drain more blood for his forbidden love.
He had no idea this would be the last time.

In that luxury cruise ship fire that shocked the world, my husband Gordon Mercer—the ship's captain—pried open my bloodied fingers and fastened the last intact life vest onto his first love.
In my past life, he locked me inside the blazing cabin. First, the flames devoured me. Then, as the ship broke apart, the icy ocean swallowed me whole. I drowned in the depths.
When I opened my eyes again, I'd returned to that life-or-death moment—the ship about to sink, alarms tearing through the night.
Watching Gordon clutch that trembling woman in his arms, I didn't break down sobbing like before. I didn't beg.
Instead, I laughed coldly and threw the life vest at their feet.
"Since you two are so desperate to die together, go right ahead."

Five years ago, on my wedding day, my fiancé Vincent fucked my best friend in the bridal suite.

Five years later, I returned to New York with my husband—the most powerful Mafia boss in Naples. At Atelier Milano, my former best friend Bianca circled my custom gown like a vulture, pestering the staff about meeting the legendary Mrs. Salvatore.

She had no idea the woman she pitied as a pathetic nobody was the very person she was dying to impress.

I saved a dying mobster three years ago. Vincent Ricci—New York's most feared Godfather.

He decided I was his. Private jets, five-million-dollar proposals, the whole nine yards. I fell for it.

The night before our wedding, his enemies took me. Three days of torture left me blind. Everyone said he'd never marry damaged goods. He married me anyway and spent three years treating me like a queen.

Yesterday I fell down the stairs and my sight came back.

But that's when I found out about my perfect husband's dirty secret.

Because of his grandfather's dying wish, Supreme Court Chief Justice Garrick Vance—the most powerful beast-shifter in the city—was forced to marry me, a human court clerk who had secretly loved him for years.

For six years we pretended to be strangers at work while he remained ice-cold toward me and our daughter Wren at home. When his celebrity ex-girlfriend Seraphina returned from overseas, I watched him come alive for another woman—attending her parties, rushing to her side at midnight.

Meanwhile, our five-year-old daughter waited every night for a father who never came home.

The day Wren nearly died from his careless gift, I finally signed the mate bond dissolution papers.

This time, he's lost us forever.

The loan sharks who kidnapped us wanted payment for my twin sister's gambling debts—in blood.

When my FBI negotiator father showed up with his tactical team, he found Lily with a paper cut, crying her heart out. I was dying from a gunshot wound in a basement below.

I called him with my dying breath: "Dad, please send help. I'm bleeding out."

"Are you kidding me right now, Emily? Your sister just went through hell, and you're pulling this pathetic stunt for attention? How sick are you?"

He hung up. I died alone, dismissed as a liar.

Three days later, they found my body. And the truth that came with it burned their perfect world to ash.

I thought I was marrying the New York Godfather out of love. I didn't know I was just a walking blood bank for his fake 'savior'—my illegitimate half-sister.

My father, my brother, my husband... they bled me dry, framed me, and even demanded my unborn baby's cord blood to keep a murderer alive.

When I finally learned the truth, I didn't cry. I didn't scream.
I simply locked the doors, scheduled the emails that would shatter their reality, and left them a charred corpse in a towering sea of fire.

They thought they watched me burn. I let them descent into absolute madness.

"Stop—Daniel, the fk are you doing! I came here to learn to swim, not get fked!"
In the pool, because my kicks were all wrong, Daniel—my husband's cousin—told me to wrap my legs around his waist to "feel the rhythm."
Except I was wearing that scarlet bikini Vincent shoved me into—practically nothing. Even worse, Daniel's rk-hard ck in those thin trunks was jammed right up against my py.
Every time he kicked, that thing dragged right over my ct, like it was about to shove straight inside.

"You sure dispatch called this... natural causes?" I gripped the steering wheel, staring at the perfect suburban house.
"That's what they said," Gates muttered. The victim's father, Arthur, stood at the door in pressed khakis, weeping.
He swore his daughter, Grace, died in her sleep last night after eating vanilla pudding.
But the moment we stepped inside, a suffocating cocktail of cheap lavender spray and rotting meat punched me in the sinuses.
In the living room, SpongeBob SquarePants was blasting at maximum volume. Grace was slumped in a recliner. When Gates gently pinched her wrist to lift her arm, a sickeningly soft, tearing rip echoed in the room.
Her grayish skin completely degloved, fused to the leather armrest. Beneath the liquefied muscle tissue, frantic rows of tiny white maggots wriggled into the exposed bone.
A body that died "last night" doesn't breed maggots.

"Whoever left that wild strawberry scent on my bed is dead," the severely germaphobic captain posted.
I froze. It was me.
Now, my idiot brother just locked me in Ronan's room to pay off a debt. Ronan ignored my boyish disguise. Leaning in, his nose brushed my hood.
"Wild strawberry," he whispered, a dangerous smirk forming. "It WAS you."

My mother-in-law, Dorothy, sneered that I dressed like a janitor. My husband, Adrian, called my design sketches "a waste of fabric." Even the son I carried for nine months called me an embarrassment, saying he wished his dad’s secretary, Madison, was his mother.
For eight long years, I was nothing but an unpaid maid in this house.
Until today, when the doctor told me severe exhaustion was causing my heart to fail. And my eight-year-old son just pointed at the bag of medicine in my hand, shrieking, "You just have a headache! Why are you wasting money on medicine?"
I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I went home, opened the bottom drawer of Adrian’s desk, and signed the divorce papers he had been secretly preparing.
In their wildest dreams, they could never imagine that the sole trigger condition for my late mother's $50 million trust fund was for me to leave this man.

My husband suffered a massive heart attack mid-thrust inside my best friend.

Now, the ER doctors are clutching his surgical consent forms, waiting for me—the legal wife—to sign.

Over the phone, my mother-in-law shrieked in absolute despair while my best friend sobbed in terror.

I turned a deaf ear to them, taking my time to admire my makeup in the mirror.

There was absolutely no rush. Waiting until I changed into this pitch-black mourning dress to slowly watch his countdown to death wouldn't be too late.

After all, when my parents and my son, Noah, were lying in the morgue, I survived a dead-silent night exactly like this one, shedding tears until my eyes literally bled dry.

Now, it is finally my husband's turn to go to hell and atone for my family.

My ex-boyfriend told me to divorce my "nobody" husband to become his secret mistress, completely unaware that my husband is the Supreme Mafia Godfather.
"Divorce that loser, Valeria. I'm a Capo now. I can give you the world," Gideon smirked, tossing a cheap gala pass at my feet.
I looked at the coward who abandoned me in a shootout three years ago and actually laughed. Give up my throne as the Donna of North America’s most powerful syndicate to be a street thug's dirty secret?
At the Blood Oath Gala, I'll show him that I am no longer the woman I was three years ago.

When my parents forced me to donate my organs to my sister, I didn't refuse or run away. I just quietly signed the surgical consent forms, willingly giving my kidney to Vivienne, their beloved daughter.

A few months ago, my sister was hospitalized with kidney failure. The doctor said she needed a transplant. My family's first thought was me—the backup daughter they'd kept around all these years.

When my husband Allen took my hand with tears in his eyes and said, "Only you can save her," I agreed without hesitation.

When the doctor explained the surgical risks and potential complications, I smiled and nodded my understanding.

My parents said I'd finally learned what sisterly love meant.

Even Allen, who'd always been cold to me, held my hand gently and said, "The surgery's safe. You're so healthy, nothing will go wrong. When you recover, I'll take you to Hawaii."

But they don't know that no matter how the surgery goes, I won't be around to celebrate.

Because I just got my own test results—I have terminal brain cancer. I'm going to die anyway.

To marry Vincent Romano, I survived twenty-eight near-death experiences over five years.
The first: city hall's foundation collapsed — three broken ribs. The second: a truck rollover — my right leg nearly amputated. The twenty-seventh: a chandelier in the bridal shop, three days unconscious.
All of Seren City laughed at me. Romano's most cursed bride-to-be. Yet I loved him still.
Until the twenty-eighth time.
When the bomb detonated outside city hall, I threw myself over Vincent on instinct. The blast shifted my organs and shredded my back. The day my stitches came out, I felt no relief at having survived.
Because I stood outside the study and heard his voice.
"Her organs were badly damaged. She almost actually died." Antonio's horror was audible. "Vincent, you used to treat her so well—"
"People change." A pause, then quieter: "I did want to marry her once. But before Amelia, I had no idea what it meant to truly want someone. I acknowledge the debt — I just can't spend my life repaying it." Another pause. "Father won't agree, and she won't let go easily."
"So." His voice turned to ice. "The only clean way out is to make her give up on her own. As long as Cassandra refuses to break the engagement, the accidents must continue. Until she walks away."

I bought my five-year-old son a Captain America shield for his birthday.

But when I landed in New York, the hospital called.

"Your son died during the medical procedure your husband authorized."

Marcus had signed Axel up as a living donor. For his mistress's kid.

While our baby bled out on the operating table, Marcus was cutting birthday cake with his new family.

Even used Axel's favorite Superman pillow as decoration.

I stared at my child's mutilated corpse and made a promise.

You fed my baby to wolves for a whore's smile. Time to return the favor, Marcus.

After Ava lost her voice in a car crash, my brother fled the country overnight.
My parents begged me to take his place and honor the engagement.
For three years, I stayed by her side. I took care of her, helped her through rehab, and waited for the day she could finally speak again.
But at our wedding, my brother came back to stop it.
In front of everyone, my parents pressured me to step aside. "You were only filling in for Ethan in the first place. Now that he's back, it's time to give his fiancée back."
Ava stopped walking toward me and, without a second thought, ran straight into my brother's arms.
Later, she tried to smooth things over in private. She said it was only to test my brother's intentions, and promised that in the end, she would still marry me.
She thought I'd stay right where I was, like I had for the past three years, waiting for scraps.
What she didn't know was that I had already accepted the Godfather's secret appointment. That very night, I boarded a helicopter bound for the North District.
Now that the man she never got over was back, it was time for me to claim the underground empire that belonged to me.

I am just a simple florist making an honest living. Yet, somehow, the city's untouchable elites keep suffering horrific, freak accidents right after someone buys my flowers. The police know I'm involved, but they can't prove a thing. After all, how much damage can a few blooming petals really do?

I was Elara, a wingless half-sprite. The lowest of the low in the Obsidian Court. My job was to clean up the mess left by the dragons.
But right now, the biggest mess was inside my own stomach.
I was pregnant. With the Dragon King's child.
He didn't remember that night. He only remembered waking alone — and swearing to crush whoever had touched him into dust.
So I said nothing. I served him. I hid. And the three little voices only I could hear kept whispering the one thing I couldn't believe: that scary dragon is soft on you, girl.
Then my belly began to leak his golden aura, and his jealous betrothed smelled it first.
When the King learned the truth, he didn't rage. He looked at my stomach and said the child could not stay.
He never told me why.
So while he was away at war, I climbed onto the Sky Bridge over the endless Void — and I jumped. Better to fall than to let them take my baby.
I never expected something down there to catch me.

During a luxury cruise, Lydia is drugged, blacks out, and wakes in the hands of Ethan, a notorious arms dealer, the most feared name in the UK, and a whispered warning across Europe.

He catches her by the ribbon in her hair and turns her escape into a dead end, yet he never takes her life.

While everyone waits for the moment she breaks, Ethan clasps a bracelet around her wrist, a mark she never manages to remove.

"They say you'll redeem me," he murmurs, voice dangerously low as he tilts her chin up. "But I only want to lock you away forever."

He thinks he's playing a game of conquest. Instead, he's the one who surrenders. Until the day he kneels, blood on his hands, a ring held out like a confession.

"Good girl," he breathes. "Call me 'honey.' Stay with me, forever."

I'd sacrificed everything—my savings, my future—to rescue a memoryless man from the twisted wreckage of his car. Day by day, we developed feelings for each other. He slipped a simple silver ring onto my finger, calling me his sole comfort, the only light in his life.
However, the light was violently extinguished the day his true wife burst into the hospital. Her bodyguards slamming me against the wall was just the beginning. As the blows rained down, I learned his real identity: Ethan Vance, the heir of the richest family in the L City.
The most damning evidence was their marriage certificate, issued two years before we had met. The ultimate betrayal came as his wife deliberately snapped my fingers and stripped me of my last shred of dignity. He saw it all with icy detachment, then turned and pulled her close. "Lana doesn’t need to be reasonable. I’m the one backing her ".

“A powerful opener to a series [that] will produce a combination of feisty protagonists and challenging circumstances to thoroughly involve not just young adults, but adult fantasy fans who seek epic stories fueled by powerful friendships and adversaries.”--Midwest Book Review (Diane Donovan) (re A Throne for Sisters)“Morgan Rice's imagination is limitless!”--Books and Movie Reviews (re A Throne for Sisters)From #1 Bestselling fantasy author Morgan Rice comes a new series for middle grade readers—and adults, too! Fans of Harry Potter and Percy Jackson—look no further!THE MAGIC FACTORY: OLIVER BLUE AND THE SCHOOL FOR SEERS (BOOK ONE) tells the story of 11 year old Oliver Blue, a boy unloved by his hateful family. Oliver knows he is different, and senses that he holds powers that others do not. Obsessed with inventions, Oliver is determined to escape his horrible life and make his mark on the world.When Oliver is moved to yet another awful house he is put into in a new sixth grade, one even more terrifying than the last. He is bullied and excluded, and sees no way out. But when he stumbles across an abandoned invention factory, he wonders if his dreams might be about to come true.Who is the mysterious old inventor hiding in the factory? What is his secret invention?And will Oliver end up transported back in time, to 1944, to a magical school for kids with powers to rival his own?An uplifting fantasy, THE MAGIC FACTORY is book #1 in a riveting new series filled with magic, love, humor, heartbreak, tragedy, destiny, and a series of shocking twists. It will make you fall in love with Oliver Blue, and keep you turning pages late into the night.Book #2 in the series (THE ORB OF KANDRA) and Book #3 (THE OBSIDIANS) are now also available! “The beginnings of something remarkable are there.” --San Francisco Book Review (re A Quest of Heroes)

Three years ago, I took an undercover job: pose as a bottom-tier janitor and infiltrate a crime syndicate.

But I didn’t fit. My posture, my stride, the way I watched people—none of it looked like a janitor.

So command made the call: hypnotize me, seal my memories, erase who I was. In three months, someone would come wake me up.

They never did. My handler died, the line went dark, and I stayed buried.

I lost myself and spent three years scrubbing this place from the bottom—where anyone could kick me, spit at me, call me useless.

Until today. A stranger, drenched in blood, was dragged into the hall. He lunged close and whispered one sentence into my ear.

It was the trigger phrase.

The lock in my head snapped open. My name is Jack Reynolds—ex–Marine operative—sent here to bring down the Grey Wolf Alliance.

And everyone who spent three years stepping on my neck is about to learn what that means.

My husband, Marco, in his bid for the position of Don, was forced to marry the young widow of the previous Don, Claudia.
Every night, after returning from Claudia’s place, he would hold me and swear, "You’re the only woman I love, Elena. Claudia has the connections I need. Once I have real power and secure my position, I’ll make you my wife in name and in public."
But as I waited for him to rise to power, what started as a political act turned into nights where he simply never came home.
Then, on Christmas, I was dragged to their engagement party—where I was beaten in front of everyone.
Our six-year-old daughter, Sophia, knelt on the floor, crying and begging him, "Godfather, please, let my mommy go..."
But Marco stayed silent.
"It’s okay," I whispered, picking up my wounded daughter. "Mommy’s going to take you somewhere that truly belongs to us."
What Marco never knew was this: I never cared about being the Donna of this small city.
I am the only heir of the Rossi family—the most powerful Mafia family in all of Sicily.

I’m a prisoned omega.A slave maid.
While the prince who forced himself on me claimed me as his MATE.

“My… mate…”

She felt his hot breath caress against the back of her neck when he whispered behind her, she moved too slow to prevent the man from forcing her to the grass beneath them.

“My… mate!” He shouted as he straddled her against the cold ground, the darkness blinded her from his identity.

His grip was strong and rough as he pinned both her wrists above her head with one hand, she could smell the alcohol on his breath when he whispered the word over and over against her ear.

“I don’t—“ Doris gasped when he ripped her maids’ uniform off with little to no effort, leaving her almost bare in her undergarments.

“What happened?” I ask hoarsely.
“Jane, you’ve had a shock.” The doctor said gently. “You fainted.”
A sense of foreboding slices straight through me.
The physician is smiling now. “You fainted because you’re pregnant.”
WHAT!! I just have been divorced for like one month!?


My husband never gives me pleasure. He hasn’t for years now. He seeks nothing but to claim me as roughly and thoroughly as he possibly can - and remind me of my proper place.
This is what I have to look forward to: a lifetime of pain… unless I finally do what I’ve been planning over the last few months, and ask Ethan for a divorce.I didn’t even know it was possible for an omega to leave an Alpha until recently. Legally, we have almost no rights, but I could request a divorce. Now it is the time.


Ethan and Jane were childhood sweethearts. However, he is alpha and she is omega. It was almost impossible for them to be fated mate. Ethan did not give up but chose Jane to be his wife and luna. But Fate sure knows how to run with a bit. This young couple messes up their first marriage by lack of trust. Divorce is easy. But what about finding out you were pregnant
after divorce?What if you had quadruplets?

“I Lucas Gray, Alpha of the Dark moon pack, denounce you Sophia Roman as a member of this pack!”


Sophia was denounced by her pack for shifting four years later than she was supposed too. Sophia thought that it was the end of her life, not knowing it was the beginning of a great adventure.

Two days after Sophia became a rogue, she was attacked by older rogues but was saved by the members of The Sky Blue pack. Sophia was later taken to the Alphas and realized that she is mated to both Alphas. She ran away, thinking they will reject her after all she was just an omega and a rogue. But to her surprise, they didn’t only accept but promise to take revenge on her old pack for what they did to her……

"If I ever have to get married to anyone, I swear on my life that it would not be you!" His index finger almost pushed into me as he pointed them at me and his eyes burned with the rage of hatred and anger.

"And let me make this clear to you Taylor, if—if at all you have your way with me being your husband...your mate," he corrected.

"I'd make sure I will be with other she-wolves and make sure you feel every pain of betrayal; I'll see to it that you feel how I felt when you killed my Odette," he said, walking closer to me. The back of my throat stung with tears that were already brimming.


Odette has always been the apple of everyone's eyes, even after her death. Meanwhile, Taylor was always overlooked, and hated by everyone. Everyone wished for her death --- including her parents, and Killian, her mate. She never had been loved by anyone, always in her sister's shadow but everything changed after her sister's death. Instead of being simply ignored, she was the object of hate, and to be bullied.

Taylor still bore all the guilt, even though she was the one chosen by the Moon Goddess, until she realised, Killian, who always thought Odette as his future Luna to be his mate turned out to be mated to her! Unable to bear the thought that the mate she always wished for to turn out to be the man, who always hated and taunted her, and even mistaking her for Odette, she was at the breaking point!

Determined, she forced Killian to accept her rejection. But what will happen when Killian realises the truth behind the plot, and instantly regrets it? Will he chase her back? Will Taylor forgive and accept him, or will she never forgive, and be with the man she's destined to be with?

“He showed up for his sister’s wedding. He left wearing the dress.”

When Liam LaRosa returns to New York, he expects his sister's wedding, not his wedding. But after his twin sister takes her own life hours before her forced mafia wedding, Liam is given an impossible ultimatum: take her place at the altar… or watch his family fall.

Now bound to Donatello Moranno, the city’s most feared mafia boss, Liam becomes a pawn in a bloodstained game of power, loyalty, and twisted desire. But what starts as survival turns into something far more dangerous.

Because Donatello isn’t just the devil in a tailored suit. He’s the man Liam can’t stop thinking about.
And in a world where love is a liability… falling for the enemy might be a death sentence.

Liam O’Grady is a powerful loan shark and realtor, a man mixed in crime and an underground fighter, a King. He owns all the main gambling dens in the city and in the areas around and does not hesitate to use muscle or kill his opponents.
Between them, his half-brother Finn St Just and he run the city of Hunter’s Folly, with the strength of their muscle and money power.
The brothers are Dominants and they enjoy subjugating the women they take. And they have the habit of sharing a woman.
But the jaded Liam knows that something is missing. He has turned thirty and he feels cynical, bored.
Like a breath of fresh air, innocent young Bianca Cruz turns up at their doorstep, asking for help. The nineteen-year-old is trying to get her family free of the clutches of the evil Dean Nelson, who was also responsible for the death of her father.
Liam agrees to help her, for he is intrigued by the young woman who is untouched and other-worldly, an innocent who appeals to his jaded self. It is like a jest to him, this chance to bed a girl who is totally inexperienced in the ways of his world. A virgin at that!
He along with his brother proposes a deal with the desperate young woman. They will help her; they will even restore her father’s beloved bakery and hand it over to her.
But the price is this:
She will be their willing submissive for a year.
*
Does she cave in and accept their terms?
And what will happen during this year to the girl who has no experience of men?
Worse, what will happen to her at the end of the year?
For Bianca is a sensitive young girl.
And the men who will own her are experienced , hard-hearted and callous men who do not care for the women they bed…

Drugged by her own father into sleeping with him, she found herself trapped in a forced and loveless marriage, marked by secrets and betrayals. He had another woman in mind and he went to Europe, abandoning her and their son. Four years later, he returns, but not by choice: the son Liam was born to is seriously ill. The only chance of saving his life is to give birth to a new child, a sacrifice that forces them to confront feelings they swore they would never revisit. Will he once again give in to intimacy with a wife who only exists on paper? What about the woman waiting for him abroad? But... what if forgotten feelings begin to surface, confusing their hearts and their choices?


Nathan wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. My back was pressed to his chest. His thin lips began to stick to my hair and he began to speak.
“Your back was to me, do you want me to come in another way?”
Nathan lowered his head, he put the tip of his nose close to mine. Our lips almost touched, and breathing was somewhat unsteady.
“Don't you know that with you I'm kind of unable to control myself? I just wanted to sleep with you, to be with you incessantly...”

Five years ago, to save his life, I endured the pain of breaking up with him, leaving only the words "I'm going to marry a rich man" before vanishing from the world.
Five years later when we meet again, he has become a powerful mafia boss who commands wind and rain, while I'm just a small secretary struggling to make ends meet.
He hates me for being materialistic and heartless—tearing up my contracts, destroying my job, setting up an inescapable net, forcing me into a corner with nowhere to run, vowing to crush me mercilessly under his feet.
He thinks I've long since married into wealth and live a life of luxury;
But he doesn't know that the daughter I bore him is timidly asking me: "Mommy, when will Daddy come see me?"