10000 Book(s) Related to after they betrayed me i became the golden alpha s luna

Amelia is starting high school with her best friend Lola — confident, magnetic, fearless Lola — the girl who makes the world feel manageable. While Amelia juggles grief, an absent father, and the heavy responsibility of raising her younger brothers, Lola is her escape. Her courage. Her voice. The version of herself she wishes she could be.
But when a body lies at Amelia’s feet, and her hands are covered in blood that isn’t hers, one question echoes louder than the rest:
How did it come to this?
As the school year unfolds, cracks begin to show — in friendships, in family, and in Amelia’s own mind. The lines between loyalty and control blur. Between truth and perception. Between who she is… and who she thinks she needs to be.
Because some friendships don’t just shape you.
They consume you.
And when the illusion shatters, there’s always something left behind.

I died painfully after being sacrificed by my foster family.
Reborn, I walk away from their fake affection.
My true billionaire kin treat me as their priceless princess.
All those who once hurt me get what they deserve. A powerful, quiet tycoon stands firmly on my side, shielding me from all schemes and malice.

Gideon Henry. Billionaire. Powerful. Drop-dead gorgeous.
He's one of the most prominent business tycoons in the country. But for me, he's nothing but a devil.
He's done terrible things to me. He forced me to marry him. He made my life a living hell. He's the reason I lost the two most important people in my life—the man I love and our baby.
But when Gideon got into an accident and lost all of his memories, I didn't expect that he would turn into a different person. He's become kind, caring… and a loving husband to me.
And I woke up one day… realizing that I'm already falling in love with him…

Three years together, and the texts I'd sent Nolan Garrett could probably fill an entire medical chart.

Pasta or salad for dinner. Rain boots or sneakers when it was pouring. I ran everything by him.

Then one night, right in front of me, he muted my texts.

"Can you grow up a little?" He didn't even look up. "Not everything has to go through me."

After that, I really did stop asking.

I signed the papers for my transfer to the Denver office before it even occurred to me to tell him.

My best friend Meredith's wedding invitation said I could bring a plus-one. I RSVP'd for one.

I even found a surgeon for my wrist and picked the date myself.

Not that it mattered. All his patience had gone to his student, Amber Lowell, a long time ago.

The night I found out I was pregnant, I called him. He was with Amber. All he said was to stop making trouble, and then he hung up.

So I never told him he was going to be a dad.

By the time he finally thought of me, I was already on a plane to Denver.

I'd be half a country away, and out of his life for good.

I thought I was the perfect wife and mother, until I heard my husband outside his office, laughing, calling me a "prison warden" and planning to use our daughter as cover while he ran off to Tuscany with his grad student.

Everything fell apart. Then my daughter, in front of everyone: "That's just our annoying nanny."

I tried to hold on to what was left of our family, but my daughter shoved me down the stairs. I lost the baby, and my husband just checked his watch while I bled out on the floor.

They locked me in and left for Italy.

Alone in the hospital, they told me I'd lost the baby and had "memory damage."

Now they're back, expecting the same obedient wife.

She's gone.

And I'm done loving them.

I got pregnant the year we could barely afford to eat.

My boyfriend, Mason Caldwell, took out an online loan to pay for the abortion. At least, that was what he told me.

While I was recovering, the best thing I ate was a $2 chicken leg from the discount grocery store.

It broke my heart to watch him work construction all day and deliver food all night. So after three days in bed, I took a serving shift at the private club where my friend worked.

“People fight over these shifts,” she told me. “Good money, big tips. I only squeezed you in because I know things are rough.”

Then she added, “You just serve drinks. Nobody gets to ask you for anything else.”

That night, I found Mason in a VIP room, seated in the middle of a crowd that hung on his every word.

He ordered seven or eight bottles of red wine at $25,000 apiece. Someone said the watch he gave a bottle-service waitress was worth $220,000.

After midnight, he wiped the lipstick off his cheek and reached for the bike helmet beside him.

“Mason, you're still playing house with that woman? Still playing the delivery guy and the factory worker?”

“Your dad's on your ass about getting married. End it already. If she finds out who you are, you'll never get rid of her.”

Mason laughed. “She's not smart enough to figure it out.”

I stood in the dark beside the door, holding my empty tray, my head down.

The clinic had charged $600. The food he'd bought me over those three days came to $30.

$630.

Exactly the price of the fruit platter on their table.

That was all I had cost him.

That night, I was dragged into a parking lot and beaten until my hands could never hold a scalpel again.

I thought it was random. Until I heard my own brother and fiancé talking—

"Those thugs went too far, but the result works out, doesn't it? This time, the award will go to Charlotte."

Charlotte. The "poor orphan" my family adopted.

For twelve years, she stole my papers, my opportunities, my glory. And the two men I trusted most handed her everything on a silver platter.

They called me spoiled. Selfish. Difficult.

They even believed I started the fire that killed our parents twelve years ago.

But here's the truth: Charlotte started that fire. I was the one who dragged them out.

They thanked the wrong sister. For twelve years.

Now they want me dead.

Fine. Let Penelope Ashworth die.

I was always the last one picked.
In gym class, nobody wanted me on their team until there was no one else left.
At White Elephant exchanges, I always ended up with the worst gift.
Even when classmates invited me out to eat, I somehow wound up covering the bill.
Then I went to college and met Brooke, who always saved me a seat, and Ethan, my boyfriend, who stepped in whenever things got awkward.
For three years, we did everything together.
We rushed to eight a.m. lectures, split DoorDash delivery fees, and walked back from the library at two in the morning after late-night study sessions.
When my parents divorced and neither seemed to want me, Brooke and Ethan stayed.
They even set their phones to alert them whenever I texted.
For the first time, I believed I'd found people who would never leave me behind.
Then came the night of our final exams.
We were at a party on the second floor of a downtown hotel when every phone in the room blared with a tornado warning.
People screamed and rushed toward the stairs, desperate to reach the hotel's designated storm shelter downstairs.
Ethan grabbed Brooke and headed for the exit.
I was right behind them when he shoved a banquet table out of his way.
The table scraped across the floor and slid directly into my path.
My foot caught on one of its legs, and I went down hard.
Before I could get back up, a massive crystal chandelier came crashing down.
Part of its heavy frame struck my back, and broken glass scattered across the floor.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to get up. With everyone rushing past me, I had no time to think about the pain.
I just needed to get somewhere safe.
By the time I reached the hotel's storm shelter, Ethan and Brooke were nowhere in sight.
I'd been left behind again.
I pulled out my phone and texted my aunt Dana.
[I'll do it. I'll sign up for the trial.]

On my wedding anniversary, I died a brutal death, drained of every drop of blood by my husband’s socalled “sacred snow ferret”. That creature was Sylvia, his longdead true love striving for rebirth. For three long years, I was nothing more than a disposable blood vessel. Even my own son betrayed me for hollow, false affection.
Given a second chance at life, I cast aside all foolish mercy. I watched coldly as my hypocritical mage husband and traitorous son doted on the ferret, and documented every one of their heinous crimes.
I turned his longawaited reunion into a boneandflesh feast.
When the Templar tribunal finally arrived to pass judgment, I broke free from the cage of my old life and stepped out toward my own boundless freedom.

I make a living solving cold cases, earning just enough to get by.
Until I saw my long-time crush on the latest corpse.
He used to be an unreachable light, but now he's the deepest darkness before my eyes.
At this moment, he stands across from me, eyes full of innocence, asking for my help, saying he loves me.
Should I arrest him, or trust him?

Being born a Moretti daughter means one thing: the family owns you.

In my past life, Vivian thought she had what it took. She promised Dad she could handle it, swore up and down she'd make him proud. Six months later, she'd burned through three generations of work and left us with nothing but an empty shell. Our enemies found her eventually. Broke both her legs.

And me? I married Marco Rossi.

Everyone envied me for marrying into one of the most powerful families in the city. What they didn't know was that I was his prisoner. He used me, turned my family's connections into stepping stones for himself, spent my money on his mistresses, used my body as a bargaining chip at his deals.

In the end, Vivian killed me. Jealous of my "perfect life," she dragged herself over on those broken legs and put a bullet in me.

When I open my eyes again, I'm sitting in Dad's study.

The door slams open. Vivian bursts in, cutting me off before I can speak. "Dad! I'm marrying Marco Rossi! Give the family to Sienna!"

I look at her and smile.

This time, I'm going to survive. And I'm going to do a hell of a lot better than just survive.

I married into a wealthy family in place of my runaway sister, but my husband, Damian, refuses to touch me.

He refuses to dance with me in public, rejects my kiss, and even has my luggage dumped in the hotel lobby.

Believing he despises me, I pull off my wedding ring and prepare to leave.

But the moment my blood touches the blue diamond, I hear his thoughts:

“Leave. I want her too much. If she comes any closer, I really will hurt her.”

Three years ago, on a night when it wouldn't stop raining, I carried Victor Caster out of a pile of bodies.

He'd taken two bullets. He grabbed my ankle and said: when I get back, I'll give you the world.

But when he came back, it was my sister Sabrina on his arm.

After that she was the woman who ran the Caster house, and I was the crazy one they locked away upstate.

Three years later, at the engagement party, Sabrina opened up her own wrist and screamed that I did it.

I tried to explain.

But the man I'd given half my life to save wouldn't even look at me. He just flicked his hand.

"Her hands don't know their place. Take them. And I don't want that face in front of me."

He never once looked up.

So why is it that the next time he sees me, the moment he really looks at my face, he goes down on his knees?

Did you slaughter your roommates?" the detective sneered. "No!" I screamed. The polygraph technician stared at the flawless readouts confirming I told the absolute truth. I was innocent. But if a human didn't tear those girls apart in our locked dorm... then what exactly is hunting me now?

For five years, my husband told me I was lucky. A human with no magic, no name, no worth — and he, the Dark Elf King, had taken me in anyway.
I believed him. I swallowed every insult in his court. I let his nobles call my son a halfbreed bastard.
Then he promised our boy he'd come to his fifth birthday, and instead he knocked him across the garden for biting the woman he'd been sneaking off to every night.
That was the day I stopped waiting.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I took my son and I erased us — our scent, our warmth, every hair, every speck of dust. As far as the world is concerned, we were never in it at all.
Three months later, he's on his knees outside the Celestial Sanctum, offering half his soul to any god who will find his missing wife.
He should be careful what he asks for.

The heiress of the wealthiest family was dead. Her death was caused by a plane crash planned her adopted sister. At a young age of 17, she had mastered so many skills while conquering the world. A top professor in world-class healthcare, she topped the world hacker list, joined a mercenary group ten years ago and became the world's top assassin with more hidden talents she used with hidden identities.
After her death, she's reborn into another body known as a worthless piece of trash, an ugly fat kleptomaniac filled with scars and acne and a foolish prankster.
She was scorned by her parents and often schemed against by her twin sister. The people in the society often curse and avoid her like the plague.
Until unexpectedly her beauty suddenly came back in thousand fold and then they started to realise otherwise.
Her top agenda is to reclaim her identity back and take back her position that her scheming adopted sister stole from her at all cost!

“Nian Zhen,” a superstar known for his villainous roles, met an untimely death
when the safety wire snapped during a drama shoot!

At the very moment he thought his life was over,
a voice suddenly echoed in his mind…

Ding!!
[Contract successfully established with the Host.
Initiating transfer to the first mission world. Countdown: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.]

He’s been kidnapped by a system and sent to a whole new world!
A world where he must play the role of a two-faced, manipulative "white lotus,"
constantly tormenting the male protagonist until he succumbs to darkness.

But every performance comes with a price.
So, you mischievous system—tell me, what’s in it for me?!

[The Host may ask for anything, including returning to your original world.
The system can even rewind time to before the Host’s death. Yay, yay, yay!]

Now that’s a deal worth discussing～
A rising star like Nian Zhen will make this performance utterly flawless!

The Queen of Blades, Rika dies, hoping for a better life for the remaining survivers leaving a ruined world and she regrets not living a long happy and full life before her death. She awakes as a newborn in a strange but peaceful environment, in the same world of the novel Dreaming Kiss. Rika is reborn as Ulrika Vincent and realizes that she's got a scumbag of a Prince to cut out of her new life. And she wants to save her favorite character, Grand Duke Aric Solheim and what better way to do that than have a one night stand with him and get pregnant by him!

To the rest of the world, Dante is Hollywood royalty, the ridiculously attractive oldest son of the notorious Fontaine family.

To Ashlyn? He's the guy who made her swear off men forever.

She just wants to move on with her life. Run her bakery. Heal her broken heart. She's had three years to try and forget about Dante Fontaine. (Spoiler alert: it hasn't worked.)

But when an accidental - and seriously humiliating - encounter brings him back into her life, she's forced to realize that no matter how hard she's tried to forget him, Dante definitely hasn't forgotten her.

. . . and this time, he's not going to let her go.

Due to explicit scenes, this steamy second chance romance is rated 18+.

The Sweet Taste of Sin is created by Ember Casey, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

She was barely born when she was already rejected, both by her mother and life itself. Upon birth, she was given up for adoption and spent just over fourteen years in the system. Through adolescence, she faced numerous hardships, including living on the streets and seeking help door-to-door.

She saw no way out until, by a twist of fate, she encountered a madam who offered her shelter. However, the woman's sole interest in the girl was to turn her into a sex worker to boost her own earnings. At first, she resisted everything and everyone, desperately seeking employment to cover her expenses. But six months pregnant, with no one willing to hire her, and with no options left, she decided to enter that life. It was then that she realized the true hell existed right here on earth. She experienced everything the world offered, and when her baby was born, he was kidnapped from the hospital by his paternal grandmother. Isabella's sole focus now was to gain power to rescue her child.

She ended up in the hands of a mafia member, who taught her everything to become the queen of crime.

I was the hottest A-list actress in Hollywood, until a few deepfaked videos of me "abusing assistants" and malicious photos of my "rotting face" dragged me straight to hell.
In just one month, I became a monster despised by the entire internet.
Facing tens of thousands of death threats telling me to "die with a rotting face."
They wanted me to die crying. I didn't. Instead, I decided to express my deepest gratitude to the bullies who ruined my life.
And my "thank you" is going to cost a fortune.
But I never imagined the real monster wasn't hiding behind a screen—he was holding the syringe.

I used to think Jude was my one way out, my only salvation when my life fell straight into hell.
He pulled strings to get my mom into emergency surgery and helped me handle my dad’s funeral. He even promised he’d give me a home.
I believed him. So I married him. And for eight years, I let him take my blood every single month; he said it was for “routine health monitoring.”—Eight years, 9,999 milliliters.
Until that night, when I heard him with my own ears, talking to his friend:
“Lily’s blood type is rare. Lynn and her mom? They’re just ready-made blood banks.”
He didn’t marry me out of love. He married me to keep a “living blood bag” in hand.
I rested a hand on my still-flat belly and I laughed.
So this was what our marriage really was. From start to finish, it was a slaughter dressed up as love.
Fine. Then let’s see when it was time for the sacrifice, who ended up on the altar.

Everyone says I'm lucky— a noble lady from the Miller family, doors open for me when I walk out, heads bow when I come home.
But deep down, I know the truth. I live like a “spare”: covering for my father’s mistakes, taking the fall for my stepsister.
Even the bodyguard I thought I could rely on is only here for Emma.
I caught him using Emma's photo to relieve himself, heard his Underboss mock him for acting as a bodyguard to me, just to make Emma feel his heart.
He was my bodyguard, yet when danger struck, he shielded Emma.
When I lashed out at him, punishing him for Emma’s faults, he secretly returned the favor, giving me ninety-nine lashes in retaliation.
Finally, I agreed to marry into the Jones Family and became the “vegetative Don’s” wife.
I took the money, moved to Manhattan, and became the most dignified Mrs. Jones: keeping watch over a mute husband, at least no longer having to worry about a knife in my heart.

After one painful and humiliating night, Mia was left wondering if Master Reed was just a figure that she dreamed up when she secretly discovered the world of BDSM. Until she collided with him in the conference room at her office building and found out just how real he actually was and he's made it very clear that he is going to be her Master.

Reed bought "Bean Me" with the intention of claiming Mia as his submissive. A dream he'd had ever since the night he had picked her up off the sidewalk at his club "The Dungeon" three years earlier.

Before that dream can come true, it is threatened when his manipulating ex-wife comes back into the picture with every intention of staying there. She brings a few nasty surprises as well that will leave Mia and Reed reeling and wondering if there is anyway their fragile budding relationship.
18+ Adults only
Explicit Scenes, BDSM

Bound To Me Series Contains Four books, You Are Mine, You Are Ours, Because I Want To, and They Are Mine.

She was forced to accept a marriage proposal from a strange billionaire to pay her huge debt and to take back her inheritance left to him when her mother died.

"I only have two questions," she said. "The first question is this: if I sign it, does it mean that I don't need to pay my debt?"

Mike: "Yes. And your second question...?"

Crystal: "Okay, I haven't reached the legal age for marriage yet, so even if I sign it, it won't take effect. Is that right?"

Nathan quickly raised his hand and said, "If I say that it is effective, no one will dare to say that it isn't. Do you believe that?"

"I suppose so," Crystal admitted. She hesitated for a moment, and then she signed the marriage certificate.

Months later, she asked for a divorce from him. He stared at her in silence, then he uttered, "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"What does that have to do with our divorce?" Crystal asked.

"I'm only asking because I care about you," Nathan murmured.

Suddenly, tears began to stream down Nathan's face.

"I'll be happy if you say that you care about me," Nathan continued. "Why must you torture me this way? Haven't I done enough to prove my love for you?"

She was stunned hearing his confession and words stuck on her throat.

Nathan carried on with his little speech. He said, "I have died once, and the fear of death has no hold on me. But if you admit that you care for me, then I will live for you! So, please, love me once, and I will be at your disposal!"

A forced marriage: Aurora, masquerading as her sister, married the city's most ruthless business tycoon—"From today, you are Bella Moretti."
On their wedding night, her husband Gael left her alone in the empty room, leaving her trapped behind the walls of their marriage.
The pressure from her family to have a child was relentless, and she was married to a man who didn't love her. Just as they were finally starting to grow closer, her sister Bella, who had been in a coma, suddenly woke up—right at the most intimate moment!
"Everything you thought was an accident was my plan!" Her sister's cold laughter shattered all illusions, revealing that Aurora had been a pawn all along. And could Aurora still believe Gael's words, "I never wanted Bella"?

Beatrice has never been someone to take things lying down. After being kidnapped by two men and thrown in the back of a car, she's already thinking of ways to make them regret their actions. She soon finds out these men are werewolves, tasked with bringing her to their pack because she’s someone’s fated mate.
Her. A human. Fated to be with a werewolf? That couldn’t be right.
As a human, there's no way she can escape from this mate-thing they are adamant she accept. That is… until she decides to trust the vampire in the packhouse dungeon. With his help, surely they can both escape their fates as prisoners of the Bluemoon Pack.

At twelve, I lost my parents and was taken in by the Brooks—our families had a marriage pact. For a decade, everyone expected me to marry their son Conner, a future I'd accepted as duty.
Then Conner's tabloid scandal with another woman destroyed the engagement. Chaos hit our family businesses—until Dylan, Conner's uncle who barely spoke to me, offered: Marry me instead.
It was the only way to save everything. I said yes, no time to fear marrying a stranger.
What stunned me? The wild side of Uncle Dylan I never saw. It hit fast, hot—pulling me in until I was hopelessly falling.
And my best friend? She's about to find a chaotic, twisty romance of her own. Turns out, life's best gifts are the ones you never see coming—even if they start with a marriage of convenience.

My whole body began to quiver as I looked up at Ryan who wore a smug or was it? I couldn't tell as my vision was blurred with tears.

"What is the meaning of this?" I questioned still in disbelief. Where had it all gone wrong? We were happy, he respected me and so did I...I even fell in love with him so how could he do this to me?!.

"It's exactly what it says in the paper, Ciara"

"And what is that?" I stubbornly inquired. It was as if I didn't want to believe what the paper read until Ryan says it with his own mouth.

A part of me still wanted to fight for whatever we still have left; still wanted to protect our marriage.

But then he'd said it. Ryan had uttered those words I so desperately dreaded," I want a divorce, Ciara"


Ciara is the heiress to her father's company but she left all of that to be in a contract marriage with Ryan. It was supposed to be a 'no-strings-attached' kind of feeling but, she couldn't help but fall in love with him. Just when she wanted to start a clean slate on their first anniversary, she was handed a divorce paper.

Ryan is a billionaire and a man with a hardened heart. He never saw Ciara as something more than just a 'fake wife' who was willing to help him out with a case. Deciding that he had had enough, Ryan hands Ciara a divorce paper setting himself free from her but 5years later, he seems to have a change on heart and wants to win Ciara back at all cost.

But on his way to the office of the new investor of his company he is overcomed by a welling shock that the name of his new investor was Ciara. The same Ciara he'd known and once loved.

What happens when this two dual meets for the first time since their rough divorce? Would they rekindle their feelings or would they leave it at that?
Could second chance love prevail?

Find out in this long rollacoaster ride!

Jenna, an exemplary daughter, lives alone with her father who raised her with a lot of love, discipline and responsibility. Mark Black, a very upright man who was widowed very young, but did not make another commitment to his daughter, to live happily. But life is like that, both contacted a blind date company, where they did not speak, wore masks that did not let recognize anything of each other's identity, without knowing it, they do something that would cause pain, regret, tears. Even so, there is an unrevealed truth that in the end will cause their lives to change in their totality.

What will that revelation be? What truth will that be? Find out when you read this controversial novel.

Where they discover that sex takes place with who can be something for you, but neither knows anything about the other, since everything is done in silence and with masks, but there are also sayings such as.

"NOTHING IS WHAT IT SEEMS".

Love will overcome very hard obstacles and its protagonists must have strength to cross them, because sometimes friendship and fidelity is something temporary, sometimes who you should take care of is the person you appreciate the most, not always friends are what they seem and say they love you.

Because sometimes friendship is camouflaged in your worst enemy.

"You're going to run on the count of three, Janice Cross," He whisper. "And make sure you don't let us find you."
"No… Lucian."
I moved my gaze to the men at either side of him, willing—begging them to say something.
Help me. "Calder, please… Aiden…"
Both turned their heads to the side. They couldn't even look me in the eyes as they chose their brother.
"One."
"Lucian…"
"Two."
"I didn't mean to."
"Three."


After losing the man she believed she would marry and her parents within a week, Janice just wants to care for her sick sister. She doesn't want a man. She doesn't want three men.
But one night is enough to change her life and point her in a new direction.
Aiden Grant. Calder Vaughn. Lucian Graves.
She doesn't expect the line to blur when it comes to these older men.
And when it comes to an end, she does not expect these men to continue wanting her as badly as she wants them.

Enter a world where love and obsession collide... Where Power combines with seduction... Where Magnates shatters all boundaries.
These stories feature powerful, commanding men who affect women deeply, seducing them into intense, torturous displays of love, passion, power, and control. Dominant mentors who push female characters to their limits. Good guys who inspire a whirlwind of longing. And everything in between-all daring the face of authority and request.
You will encounter hidden draws, intricate family and kinship links,and amour that will try them all. Normal lives are disrupted and uprooted by feelings, the traitor's blow, and the power of a really felt kinship.

He was too busy to give attention to his female admirers who had a crush on him. Now, he begging to be loved.

Juggling her career and family, Thea fought to keep her marriage alive after her husband lost his job. She hired a nanny to help—never guessing she was welcoming her own replacement.
"The three of us look more like a family than with you, mommy."
That was the final nail.
She walked away. No custody battle. No tearful goodbyes. Just silence. And from that silence, she rose—stronger, sharper, and impossible to break.
Enter Ezra Harrington.
Billionaire. CEO. Her boss.
Cold-blooded in more ways than one.
He wants Thea—but not just in the boardroom. He's hungry for more.
Her blood sings to him.
Her strength tempts him.
Her fire threatens to consume him.
But Thea doesn't kneel.
Not for love. Not for monsters.
Not even for the devil in a custom Armani suit.
Now her past is clawing back—
A husband begging for a second chance. A child she ne er stopped loving. And a vampire boss who'd destroy the world to keep her.
T.W: Dub-con, vampirism/alpha dominance, workplace relationship, dark romance etc.

*******Rated 18+ (MATURE AUDIENCE) ****************
This book is for adults only: It contains explicit content, mature themes ad strong language

"My turn," he growled, voice dripping with hunger. He stroked his long, curved length, smearing the bead of precum at the tip.
Instead of guiding his cock to my mouth, Shawn pressed his tip against my tight, puckered hole. He slicked himself with my own arousal before pushing forward, breaching my ass with a firm thrust. "You can take it," he urged, sinking his thick shaft deeper into my back passage.
The overwhelming fullness of the triple penetration hit me all at once. Leo's and Axel's throbbing cocks pounded into my pussy, stretching me beyond what I thought possible, while Shawn's hard length plunged deep into my ass.

This electrifying collection brings together tangled sheets, stolen glances, and the kind of slow-burning tension that makes your skin buzz. Each story dives into a different shade of passion — from step siblings with secrets to a bride having revenge sex with her fiancé’s groomsmen.

When Scarlett Monroe entered her new house, she didn't expect a dangerously handsome stepbrother who despised her no reason and her irresistibly charming best friend who was dead set in winning her.

Asher Callahan was Scarlett's stepbrother. With arrogance, coldness and mysteries that surrounded him, Scarlett feels an unexplainable pulls towards him.

Bring in Ethan Kingsley, Asher's best-friend, the charming boy with a pleasant smile on his face. When Asher's nonchalance and coldness pushed Scarlett away, Ethan's charm pulled her closer.

Torn between choosing between illicit relationship and calmness, Scarlett must make a choice.

"Choosing you would ruin everything for me, Asher." I said, looking into his dark eyes, and he took another step forward, leaving barely any space between us.

"But losing you would ruin me far more, Scarlett." And with that, he captured my lips with his, kissing me like I had never been before.

“I’ll give you anything, Elsa—money, a car, a house, jewelry—just agree to the transplant. Ria really needs it.” I couldn’t believe his audacity. Was this really my husband, trying to bargain my body to save his fiancée?
“Sorry, I’m pregnant. I can’t donate a kidney,” I said, my voice shaky but determined. Anger boiled inside me, but I knew he was powerful. The pretend marriage was over, and his true colors were revealed. Afraid of what he might do to me, I didn’t yell or fight him. I just wanted to escape this nightmare, to break free from this cage I was trapped in.
But his reaction was even more chilling. He looked at me with no emotion.
“We’ll have an abortion.” His words hit me like a bomb. I couldn’t believe how coldly he spoke about ending his own child’s life.

He made me wait ten minutes. My mother died in those ten minutes.
For eight years, I gave Damien Cross everything. My career. My paycheck. Every deal I ever closed, signed in his favor. I chased him through college and followed him to Chicago. In thirty days, I was supposed to become Mrs. Cross.
That same day, he left me waiting at my desk to drive his best friend’s little sister to the doctor. All for a cough. He thought I’d still walk down the aisle. He’d always thought I’d show up, no matter what.
So the day before our wedding, I boarded a plane. And I left him a gift—one he would open in front of four hundred guests.
Two years later, his empire is on the auction block. And the woman sent to buy it is me. Now he’s on his knees, begging for a second chance. Too bad I’m already wearing someone else’s ring.

I’ve had the Sight for as long as I can remember.
Born into a matrilineal line of Salem witches, I can pierce the veil of the dead. I see the wandering souls and the lingering traces of magic left behind in the mortal world.
I always assumed this gift was nothing more than my own harmless little secret.
Until the night of our fifth wedding anniversary.
I lit the final taper candle on the long dining table. As the flame flickered, my Sight instinctively slipped open, my gaze drifting toward the deep shadows by the fireplace.
A spirit was huddled there in the dark.
It was my husband—Silas Blackwood.
Ice flooded my veins. What the hell is going on? Is Silas... dead?!
My hands shook as I fumbled for my phone, stumbling back in a frantic rush to dial his number.
But before my thumb could hit the call button—before my lips could even form the words of a banishing spell—
Click.
The front door opened.
Silas strode in, bringing the damp, fresh scent of the rain with him.
"Sorry I'm late, Evie."
My breath caught. If Silas was dead... then who the hell was standing right in front of me, wearing his skin?

The acrid smell of the bullet piercing my skull hadn't even dissipated when I came back to life.

I was reborn back to the third week of the apocalypse. At this time, the tyrant of the fifth checkpoint was stripping me of my right to pass and kicking me into a horde of thousands of zombies.

In my past life, I also died here. But until the moment of my death, these fools didn't know that—within the skulls of those terrifying zombies lay divine crystal cores capable of "freezing time"!

Having been given a second chance at life, I did not run away.

I calmly snapped the neck of the first monster and pried the glowing key out of the rotten flesh.

The instant I forcibly froze the torrential, highly corrosive acid rain in mid-air, I knew that this apocalyptic hunting game... had shifted in power dynamics.

On the first day of college, most freshmen worry about making new friends. I had to figure out how to pay my own parents for a plate of lunch.
With every penny of my tuition and living expenses strictly controlled by them, I stood empty-handed in front of their campus Gospel food truck. But my mother didn't want cash.
She wanted a public spectacle to cure my "sinful depression."
My younger sister bought her lunch with a simple kiss on the cheek. But for me?
My mother pointed to the growing crowd of students and delivered her ultimatum: sing the toddler nursery rhyme 'My Mommy Is the Best' at the top of my lungs, or starve.
I chose to put the food down and walk away.
But my mother rushed out of the truck. Her fingernails dug violently into my wrist, dragging me back into her nightmare. "You're not leaving until you sing."

Every night, dragging noises come from the floor above.
The neighbor claims he just can’t sleep, yet he stares at my window and grins in the dead of night.
Later, he dies.
But at two in the morning, I still get a text message from him.
Someone else warns me: Don’t go to the sixth floor.
The police say this building doesn’t even have a sixth floor.
Yet I’ve seen people go up there with my own eyes.
Where exactly does this so-called sixth floor lead?
Who really died?
And who on earth is the one texting me?

My husband's first love, Celine, lured me to a remote cabin under the guise of an "apology."
 
She then poured gasoline all over the porch and locked the door from the outside.
 
In my past life, the moment the fire began to spread, I desperately called my husband, Julian—a fire captain—for rescue.
 
He smashed the door open and saved me.
 
Ironically, Celine's scheme backfired, and she died of smoke inhalation outside.
 
Yet, Julian pinned her blood debt entirely on me.
 
He kept me at the hospital with his hypocritical comfort, only to tear off his disguise the day I was discharged. He tied me to a pillar in an abandoned warehouse and poured gasoline at my feet.
 
As the flames ignited, my ten-week-old unborn child and I were swallowed by the raging fire.
 
Julian's eyes were bloodshot. Facing my agonizing screams, his gaze held nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred:
 
"If you hadn't gone mad with jealousy and locked the door from the inside, Celine would never have died! Stop playing the victim!"
 
"The pain she suffered before she died... I'm going to make you pay for it ten times, a hundred times over!"
 
In the blazing light, he watched coldly as I was burned alive, turning into a charred corpse.
 
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment the fire started to spread.

I’m Elowen, a Fae heiress. I snuck into the human world for a little fun and somehow ended up working as the personal bodyguard of Manhattan billionaire Grayson Whitmore.

To keep my real face from attracting trouble, I had one of my people cast a glamour on me, giving me a face full of freckles and a homely appearance.

Grayson criticized everything I did, yet every time I tried to quit, he refused to let me go.

His best friend, Preston Hale, was different. After I saved his life, he held my hand and made me a promise.

“Ellie, I don’t care what you look like. I want to give you a home.”

I was curious what it would be like to marry a human, so I said yes.

But at our engagement party, Brielle Vaughn, Preston’s first love who had spent years in Europe, burst through the doors with tears in her eyes.

Preston immediately yanked his hand away from mine.

“I’m sorry. She’s the one I love.”

Then he handed me a five-million-dollar check, put his arm around her, and left without looking back.

The guests laughed at me for ever thinking I belonged in Preston’s world.

All I could think was how ridiculous the whole thing was.

I turned and opened the door to the private lounge. The man who had watched the entire spectacle was sitting in the shadows.

I grabbed his tie and smiled.

“Grayson, don’t you need a wife to keep your family off your back? Why don’t you marry me?”

I waited five years for a heart transplant.
My mother—the Luna of our Pack, the healer everyone worships—gave it to someone else.
An orphan girl she took in. A girl who now calls her "Mom."
Ivy got my heart. She got a wolf. She got a mate and a wedding so grand the whole Pack attended.
Me? I watched from the corner, still dying, while my mother smiled for the cameras and accepted praise for her "selfless sacrifice."
When I finally snapped at the ceremony, she slapped me. Told me to apologize. Said I was embarrassing the family.
I'm her actual daughter. I'm the one who can't shift, can't feel a mate bond, can't survive another six months.
But sure. I'm the problem.
They wanted me to stay quiet and die gracefully.
I chose to make sure everyone sees who their perfect Luna really is.

Our ceremony was ambushed underground. One exit. Corvin was the only one who could move fast enough to carry someone out.
In my last life, he chose me — and left Niamh behind. She didn't make it. He spent five years after that making sure I understood what that meant. Every day I woke up was a day she couldn't. When I finally ran out of ways to leave quietly, I chose a window that faced east and walked into it.
Now I'm back. Same corridor, same chaos, same choice.
This time, I said: "Take Niamh."
The way his shoulders came down — like something he'd been holding for years, finally put down — told me everything five years together never did.
He promised to come back. He was already moving when he said it.
I knew I had to get out myself. But the ferals who'd killed Niamh last time found my corridor before I made it to the stairs.

My uncle cut off my allowance the moment he spotted my new tongue piercing. That night, I found a stranger online asking how to make his friend’s “gold-digging girlfriend” leave him. I told him to send her money. Minutes later, $8,888 landed in my account—from my uncle’s best friend, Adrian Foster, the handsome, buttoned-up man who thought my uncle was my boyfriend. The stranger was him. The gold-digging girlfriend was me. And the man he thought was my boyfriend? My uncle.

After the crash, my husband, Darius, lost his ability to speak. The trauma to his cervical spine left him unable to even lift a finger.
The doctors said his only remaining way to communicate was to nod, or to shake his head.
Sitting by his hospital bed, I finally asked the question that had been eating away at me for three months.
"When the crash happened... were you on your way to see your mistress?"
Darius stared dead at me. Then, slowly, he nodded.

I was just on the phone with my husband. He was stuck in traffic, apologizing for being late to our anniversary dinner. Forty minutes later, detectives are at my door, claiming he died in a crash three days ago. If Silas is dead, who just sent me a text?

My two best friends killed me over a girl who'd been dead six months.
Lila Bishop never got a single offer. So she cried and clung until Cole and Wes were ready to throw away their full rides and follow her to nowhere. I tried to stop them — they called me jealous and cut me off. So I went over their heads. I called their moms. I fixed their signing papers myself, the night before the deadline.
Six months later Lila was gone, and they blamed me. They dragged me to the roof of our gym and threw me off.
Then I opened my eyes — three months back, the day it all started.
Last time, I broke myself trying to save them.
This time, I'd let them jump.