8167 Book(s) Related to the biker i wrote

To please his mistress, Callum ordered me—pregnant—to dance barefoot in the black salt ice cellar.

When I stumbled back to the doorway to warm myself, the mistress covered her mouth and retched.

"I'm pregnant. I can't stand this death-stench of winter."

Only because I was a princess of the Winter Realm, born carrying frost in my veins.

Callum flew into a rage and had me locked inside a frost-crystal cage, sunk to the bottom of the ice well. No one was allowed to release me without his command.

"A princess of winter, afraid of the cold? What a joke!"

No matter how I struggled or begged, he couldn't have cared less. He and his mistress treated it as entertainment. And just like that, I froze to death at the bottom of that well.

What he didn't know was that although we winter-born are forged in bitter cold, when we carry a child, every drop of magic goes to protecting the baby. We have no defense left for ourselves. The very ice that shaped us becomes the thing that kills us.

Two days later, he was finally satisfied and ordered them to pull me up.

But I could never come back up again.

I stepped out of my OB-GYN appointment, only to be crushed by a speeding truck while my husband watched from the opposite curb, not even blinking.
I choked on my own blood before waking up on the exact same street corner.
I thought I had been reborn, but then I saw a glowing red number "4" burned into the skin of my forearm.
What the hell was happening?

I grew up alongside my next-door neighbor, ice hockey prodigy Lachlan, silently paving the way for his future. In my past life, he planned to quit his crucial scout game for his girlfriend Tamsin.
Fearing he would ruin his career, I tipped off his parents to stop him. After graduation, I joined his sports agency and spent three years cleaning up his messes, clinging to the hope that my devotion would eventually win him over.
Yet after Tamsin’s death, he blamed me entirely, shattered my fingers, and drowned me in a frozen lake. Reborn back in high school, I finally woke up. I will no longer stop him from chasing his doomed fate.

My husband used my cottage to cheat on me. Fine. I found out, I drove three hours, and I walked into my own house to find his mistress wearing my dead grandmother's sweater.
She told me to leave.
He showed up, kissed her in front of me, then grabbed my arm and shoved me into the door frame.
That's when I had the asthma attack. He's known about my asthma for five years.
My inhaler rolled across the porch floor. His mistress picked it up, held it out, and told me to sign a statement saying I'd caused all of this. Then she'd give it back.
He looked at me on the ground and said: She's performing.
I'm sitting on the floor of my own grandmother's house, gasping, and my husband is telling the neighbors I'm acting.
Nobody thought to ask whose family manages every property on this coastline.

My fiancé accused me of not caring about family.
To appease him, I planned a family vacation.
But the night before we left, he informed me that he'd given my first-class seat to his childhood sweetheart.
And me? He stuck me in coach on a flight flagged for possible terror threats.
Everyone in his family thought I should just go along with it.
That was the moment I woke up.
I tore up the itinerary and booked myself a trip to Hawaii instead.
Then I turned off my phone and let them sweat over the hotel bill.
It wasn't until their reservation got canceled that they finally started to panic.

For three years, she nursed her paralyzed husband, risked her own life testing experimental drugs, and nearly destroyed her health to pull him back from the brink of death.
But on the very day he fully recovered, he held his first love in his arms and declared, “I will take care of her and our child for the rest of my life.”
Heartbroken, she asked for a divorce. In return, he coldly froze all her bank accounts and forced her out of the house with nothing, sneering, “You are nothing without me.”
It was not until she hid her pregnancy test and walked away for good that he finally panicked.

"Three years ago, you saved me from that old gymnasium fire," Elvira whispered, her hand trembling as she removed the moonstone ring. "You promised to mark me, to make me your Luna."

Carlisle's jaw tightened. "I will. After the ceremony—"

"There is no ceremony." Her voice cut through the Elder Hall like ice. "Because the man who saved me that night... wasn't you."


Elvira Veil has spent three years as the unmarked fiancée of Blackpine's future Alpha, Carlisle—waiting for a bond that never came, enduring his pregnant mistress, watching her father's trust fund mysteriously dwindle. When she finally discovers the truth—that her salvation, her engagement, even her inheritance were all built on lies—she makes a choice that shocks the werewolf world: she dissolves their contract and walks away.

But freedom comes with a price. Her stepbrother Nolan wants to drag her back to the suffocating Veil estate. Blackpine refuses to let her go, claiming she's been manipulated by Reign Ashford—the brooding Greystone Alpha who's been watching her from the shadows for years. As Elvira's long-suppressed wolf finally awakens, she finds herself caught between three powerful men, each claiming to love her, each hiding devastating secrets.

Fighting for her father's legacy in werewolf court, Elvira must prove she's strong enough to stand alone. But as evidence mounts and alliances crumble, she realizes the conspiracy runs deeper than anyone imagined—and the greatest threat may come from the one person she's learning to trust.

The hearing that will determine her fate is tomorrow. But tonight, as her first heat cycle begins and ancient mate bonds stir to life, Elvira faces an impossible question: In a world where Alphas rule and Omegas submit, can she truly claim her own destiny? Or will the truth about that night three years ago destroy everything she's fought to build?

The answer lies buried in Greystone's archives—and someone will kill to keep it there.

It was a rainy night, and I was running wildly down the road, with that man behind me chasing relentlessly, a malicious grin on his face. Desperately searching for a safe haven, the lit-up bookstore not far ahead seemed to be my only glimmer of hope.
But I tripped. I tried to scramble back to my feet quickly, yet the rain and the slippery ground sent me crashing down again. A sharp pain shot through my knees, while the sound of footsteps behind me grew louder and louder. I frantically reached out to grab the gravel in the muddy water; my fingertips had just brushed against a sharp-edged stone when a low sigh echoed in my ear: "You can't run away."
I turned my head to look. He was already standing right in front of me, rainwater dripping down his distorted face, his eyes glinting with a crazy and cruel light. He slowly knelt down, one hand clamping my chin tightly to force me to meet his gaze, and a blood-curdling laugh escaped his lips: "I've finally got you tonight. You will be mine forever."
Will Claire survive? And will she successfully escape the attacker's assault?
This is a novel of extraordinary imagination—step in and seek the thrill and the answer.

My husband swore I was the only woman he would ever love.
Then my half-sister handed me her ultrasound. His baby. Growing inside her.
Three years of marriage. Three years of building everything together. Gone in one moment.
I should have thrown the proof in his face.
But my doctor gave me news that made his betrayal feel like nothing.
So I did something he will never expect.
I disappeared.
Let him search. Let him lose his mind.
He will never find me.

She woke up naked, bound, and on display in a birdcage.

Her husband sat in the front row while strangers bid on her unborn son's organs. He believed the video. The DNA test. The other woman's lies.

They took her baby. They took her mother. They tried to take her mind.

So she let them think she was broken. She smiled through the electric shocks. She bent without breaking. She counted down to the surgery that was supposed to kill her.

But she wasn't counting down to her death.

She was counting down to theirs.

They wanted her heart?

She'll give it to them—still beating, as she becomes their judge, jury, and executioner.

Dark Revenge Romance. CW: non-con, graphic violence, pregnancy loss, captivity. Read with caution.

18🔞

Blurb
"I am sorry for the inconvenience, I will move to my room now.”

"I love it when someone of your caliber inconveniences me.“

"Are you not afraid of what I might do to you?” He grabbed her neck and she moaned out slowly.

"Do to me what you desire,” She said breathlessly.

"It's best you let me go.” He kissed her neck and it sent a shiver down her spine.

"You are in my debt!!”

"Then why don't I clear off the debts.” He turned her to the bed.

Meet Tessy Jones, an MBBS student who has a deep crush on her hot neighbor who is old enough to be her father. Having a taste of him triggered everything about her to have more of him.

Tables turned upside down when she discovered he was daddy's best friend not just that she was also betrothed to his nephew.

Now Tessy is so obsessed with Daddy's best friend, what will she do? No father will want their daughter to date their best friend and the age gap is also a big no, lastly he is also a ruthless mafia.

Amara Snow hates Christmas with every fiber of her being. For sixteen years, December 25th has been a day of grief, not joy—the anniversary of the car accident that killed her parents. While the world celebrates, she works double shifts and avoids the holiday like a curse. When she loses her job on Christmas Eve and collapses in the snow, she's ready to give up. But a mysterious stranger with impossibly warm hands and eyes like starlight saves her life. Noelle Krystov seems too perfect, too kind, too good to be true. That's because he is. He's the immortal son of Santa Claus, sent to Earth to protect the dying spirit of Christmas. Falling in love with a human is forbidden—it will cost him his immortality. But when Noelle discovers that Amara isn't just any human, that she's the Yuletide Child born at the exact moment Christmas magic was created, their love becomes the key to saving or destroying Christmas forever. As dark forces rise to extinguish belief and hope, Amara must choose: continue hating the holiday that took everything from her, or become the woman who saves it. Sometimes the greatest magic isn't in believing in Christmas—it's in believing in yourself.

Will a man learn to love me if I’m good to him long enough?

I tried for seven years to warm his heart.
I thought if I just held on a little longer, he’d finally see me.
Because I loved him so deeply.

But what did I get in return?
His endless tenderness for another woman.
I pretended I didn’t care, until pneumonia landed me in the hospital.

On the day I was discharged, I found him standing there with our daughter, his whole world focused on caring for that woman.
Even my daughter, whom I’d raised with everything I had, wished that woman was her mother.

In that moment, my heart died completely.

I left the divorce papers, gave up custody, and walked back into the chemical industry.
So what if seven years of marriage had worn me down?
I was still the top genius in my field.

But the divorce I’d wanted so badly never went through.
The man who once couldn’t have been colder to me now held on to me tighter than ever.
Our daughter refused to leave my side.

When he found my divorce papers,
the always cold and arrogant man pushed me against the wall and growled:

“Divorce? You’re mine. For life.”

No one knew she was swapped at birth, doomed to be the family’s endless cash supply.
She died exhausted by their greed, yet woke up back to the fateful day of the unfair contract.
Reborn, she hides her cards well.
She will uncover all the fake heiress’s dark plots, retrieve her lost wealthy bloodline, and never let anyone drain her life again.

Martin Williams and Estella Jules grew up together, but lived completely different lives. She was the nanny’s daughter, while Martin was the child her mother served. After her mother died, Estella was taken in by the Williams family and raised to become the nanny’s replacement. At home, she was Martin’s loyal servant, but at school, she was his number one target.

Nobody knew about their secret master–maid relationship, and Martin would curse Estella if anyone ever found out they lived in the same apartment. He grew to hate her presence, while Estella continued to smile at him through everything. Not out of loyalty or obligation, but because she was sincerely in love with him.

Estella knew she would do anything for Martin, yet he never cared enough to notice. She couldn’t stop herself, like a moon drawn endlessly to the sun. Until one night, at Martin’s birthday party, her eyes finally opened to who he truly was. That night, she swore she would stop loving him, stop begging for him, and stop crying over him.

What she didn’t know was that her decision would only make their relationship even more complicated—messy, intense, and filled with the reckless sweetness of their perfectly imperfect youth.

Arabella owed her life to him believing that he’s the reason she didn’t die that night. The night she was ambushed and almost shot. But she never knew it was a perfect set-up by him just to walk his way into her life and ruin her.

For the sins of her father, Conrad married Arabella with the intention to break her and steal her heirloom. At the time Arabella found out the man she married had gambled with her heart, it was too late. Her image was tarnished on the net by a stunt Conrad pulled. Broken and devastated, she badly wanted to divorce Conrad and hurt him back but it was impossible and risky.

Because her only son whom Conrad turned against her, would gladly choose to follow his father in court. Meanwhile, her heirloom was in her son’s name. Therefore she would lose everything to Conrad. Everything was a cross road for Arabella. Everyone was against her, including her best friend who had been having an affair with Conrad.

However in her perilous moment, she never expected to come faced with a man from her past who died to her. The first man who ever hurt her but that same man was the only one who can help crush her husband and claim everything back. Does Arabella let off of resentment and accept Damon’s help?

Rachel Reizz is nobody — overweight, overlooked, and perfectly fine with that. Until she takes a job she can't afford to turn down.
Until she finds out who she's working for. Chris De Luca. Formula 1's golden boy. The most worshipped name in school. And the boy who has made her life hell since day one. The rule is simple: do the job, take the money, don't get attached.

“Go to your father’s chambers and kill him.”

The command controlled my body, forcing me to swing the saber. I watched in horror as I beheaded the Divine God—my own father. Stripped of my powers and exiled by my brothers, I fell from the sky and crashed into a freezing river.

I thought I would die. Instead, I was pulled out by three identical, breathtakingly handsome men.

“We should leave her,” one sneers.
“I’d like to fuck her though,” another says, his eyes raking over my soaked dress.

They are triplets. They are Alphas. And they have decided to keep me.
I am Lillyan Elyort, the fallen Moon Goddess. Now, I am a prisoner in the Blackmoon pack, surrounded by enemies who want to use me. But they don’t know one thing: I might be mortal now, but I still know how to bite back.

My twin brother and I were reborn at the same time.
In our previous life, he kicked me into the borderland overrun by monsters, while he went to enjoy himself in Radiant City, only to be exiled for his incompetence.
I reversed my healing power into killing techniques, building humanity's second-largest power amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood, only to be sacrificed in his jealousy, devoured alive by demons for seven days and seven nights.
This time, the carriage bound for the border stopped before me, and without hesitation, he pushed me toward the airship to Radiant City, eager to go to the border as the "savior."
Watching his impatient back, I almost burst out laughing.
Go, my foolish brother.
Do you think those bloodthirsty thugs of Shattered Stone Fortress would recognize you as their king without my self-created "healing backlash" in hell?
In this life, you'll stay in the hell you chose, and watch how I use healing magic to give this desperate world a "physical salvation"!

To save my wife’s family, I buried my name, wore myself down, and let a few strands of my hair turn gray while caring for her on the edge of death.

Three years later, she slipped into custom Chanel and slapped a divorce agreement down in front of me.

With her arm wrapped around a so-called old-money heir from Wall Street, she mocked me as a worthless nobody who couldn’t even afford a luxury handbag, a bottom-feeder who was never fit to stand beside her.

I signed my name without a word and watched her leave in triumph.

What she didn’t know was that the man preaching investments was nothing more than a Ponzi fraudster facing multiple charges.

And when the conference room door closed, Manhattan’s most feared ice-cold attorney bowed to me at a perfect ninety degrees and welcomed me to unlock the seventy-billion-dollar trust fund and take back control of the entire conglomerate.

A few months later, inside a women’s maximum-security prison in Brooklyn, she was dressed in a filthy, tattered prison uniform, sprawled across a floor slick with dirty water, sobbing as she was beaten and begging for my forgiveness.

I simply lifted my whiskey and calmly switched off the surveillance feed.

She loved him with all her three lives, only to be used and hurt repeatedly. When she returned to the wedding day for the fourth time, the phoenix refused to be trapped any longer. Betrayal ended, revenge arrived, and her destined dragon finally came to take her home.

I am Seraphine Marchwood. For five years, I gave every piece of myself to Alpha Veyron, convinced our mate bond was fated—until the night I accidentally overheard the truth.
He never wanted me as his mate. The entire proposed bond was nothing but a cover, a farce to hide his scandalous affair with Ophelia, the woman he actually loved. She was carrying his pup, and I was just the disposable, respectable shield to keep his reputation untarnished.
I ran that night, blind with grief and rage, until I crashed through the rotting beams of an old, rain-soaked ruin. The last thing I remembered before blacking out was the taste of blood in my mouth, and the sound of his voice calling my name, too late.
When I woke up, I didn’t recognize him.
And for the first time since I’d known him, he looked terrified. The cold, unshakable Alpha who’d cast me aside without a second thought was panicking, desperate, scrambling to bring back the version of me that had loved him more than anything—even as a new, unforeseen path began to unfurl before me.

I woke up back on the night Rhys’s Blood Tide Frenzy hit.
This time, I wouldn’t offer my blood to calm him. Instead, I sent an urgent Message Crystal to Seraphina—his precious white moonlight.
In my past life, I saw Rhys’s Blood Tide spiraled out of control, threatening to tear his body apart.
In my past life, when he commanded me to call Seraphina, I had let my pathetic, unrequited love blind me.
I offered my own body as the cure, desperately weaving the Origin Blood Seal with him.
Not long after, I fell pregnant with his half-blood child.
He had no choice but to plan our wedding. On the big day, Seraphina was ambushed by blood hunters.
She sent ninety-nine distress blood signals, yet he was tied up with wedding duties and never saw a single one.
After his beloved nearly died, he laid every ounce of blame on me.
When I went into labor, he locked me away in the Blood Dungeon. He drained every drop of my Origin Blood in a ritual meant to resurrect Seraphina, leaving me and our unborn baby to die in agony.
As my life slipped away, his words echoed in my ears: I’d ruined his one true love, and both me and the child deserved to perish.
When I opened my eyes again, I was right back to that night.

Humans aren't supposed to survive carrying a vampire's child. The immortal blood drains you dry.

Valentine was a pureblood vampire Duke. I was just a mortal. But I was stupid enough to think love was stronger than biology.

Four years ago, I tore myself apart on the birthing bed to bring a half-blood into this world, only to wake up staring at Valentine’s back.

His late father’s favorite concubine, Cecilia, had already snatched my baby from the cradle. And my husband acquiesced to it all.

"He looks just like me," Cecilia purred, tracing my newborn's cheek. "Thank you for giving birth to my son."

Then she tossed a blood jade onto my sheets, like I was some cheap baby-making machine.

I didn't take the payoff. I grabbed the heavy stone and hurled it straight at Valentine’s face.

For four agonizing years, I fought to get my baby back. I hired mercenaries, rogues, and shadow-smugglers, bleeding myself dry to breach the Duke’s estate. Every single attempt failed.

Until tonight. A terrified servant smuggled out a whisper that stopped my heart: Cecilia had fed my son "diluted holy water"—a twisted sacrament meant to literally burn the human half out of his organs.

I didn't hire anyone this time. I tore through the gates myself. I took a guard’s spear through the shoulder and let cursed brambles shred my arms to the bone, just to drag my dying boy out of a burning greenhouse.

But when the agonizing pain of the holy water woke him, Luke looked at me with pure, unadulterated disgust.

"It’s your fault! It’s your filthy human blood!" My four-year-old son spat the words like venom. "Mother Cecilia says if we just burn out this curse, I can be the true heir! If it weren't for you, Father would have claimed me by now! I hate you!"

I froze.

When I finally spoke, my voice was a raw, inhuman scrape. "Call me Mom one last time, and I'll walk out of your life forever."

Nineteen times. That's how many times Elliot had walked out on me while we planned our wedding.

Standing in the bridal shop, he didn't even bother to sound sorry. "Cecilia, it's Vivienne. Another panic attack. She's alone—it's not safe. I have to get to her."

Margaux, my biological mother, shot me that look. "Your sister is suffocating, and you want to make this about a dress? Be the bigger person, Cecilia."

I watched him leave. No hesitation. No looking back. And for once, I didn't beg him to stay. Didn't crumble in the dressing room like I had eighteen times before.

I turned to the mirror. The bride staring back wore thousands of dollars in ivory silk. Her eyes were dead.

"Help me out of this," I told the saleswoman, whose face had gone pale. My voice came out calm. Almost pleasant. "I don't need it anymore. There won't be a wedding."

Sydney is reborn on National Decision Day after being betrayed and killed by her boyfriend Carter, her childhood friend Julian, and the scheming Harper.
Determined not to be their cash cow and victim again, she uses her family’s power to expose their crimes and fake innocent personas in front of Beverly Hills elites.
Ruined and desperate, the three traitors turn on each other and die on the same rooftop where they murdered her. Sydney finally breaks free and starts a brilliant new life at Harvard.

For seven years, I told myself James wasn't cold; he simply loved quietly. Then my car died after midnight, and he told me to call a cab. When I earned the promotion I had chased for two years, he forgot my message. But when his ex said she felt sick, he left work with medicine in one hand and her exact coffee order in the other. That was when I understood: my husband knew how to care. He had simply never chosen to care for me. By our anniversary, I would stop waiting, leave his gift on the table, and move out. Only then would James begin to love me—and by then, it would be too late.

I barely escaped the Valley of the Dread Dragon, my magic completely drained. A betrothal awaited me in Winterhold. But the moment I arrived, my fiancé Arthur refused to acknowledge who I was. He stood by and watched as his socalled true love Elena stole my wand, scarred my face, and swore to strip me bare and parade me through the streets. He thought he stood above me, blind to exactly whom he was defying — I held his entire family in my power. When my brother Damian arrived, he did not merely rescue me. He gave me the chance to pay back every wound and humiliation I had suffered, one by one.

My twin sister and I were born on the same day. She got the love. I got the debt.
Some doctor told my parents I stole Colette's immune system in the womb, and after that, the rule was simple: every time she got sick, I had to hurt worse. Fever meant the basement. Below freezing, no blanket, no socks, door padlocked from the outside.
I was seventeen and I weighed under seventy pounds. My teeth were coming loose. My hair was falling out.
Then, on the coldest night of the year, something moved behind the cracked mirror in the basement. A man in a tailcoat. He said he could give me anything, as long as I could pay.
All I wanted was a blanket and a piece of bread.
He asked what I had left to trade.
I didn't have anything. So I offered him my last years.

On my birthday, I lost my pup from overwork, and at the same moment, a photo popped up on social media—my boyfriend kissing another woman under fireworks.

The caption read: "Found my lost mate."

I finally understood: I was nothing more than a replacement after Kathy left, a temporary harbor while he waited for his true love.

I quietly signed my resignation letter, burned eight years of memories, and turned to leave Stone Lake Pack.

Then, I met another Alpha.

Dangerous, captivating, untouchable—yet he dropped to one knee at our first meeting: "Marry me."

I nodded yes, but my ex lost his mind.

Three years barren, and Jessamine walked on thin ice in the elite household. Her mother-in-law spat venomous curses daily, calling her a "worthless waste of space" and threatening to force her son into divorce.

She could still remember when Damien had severed all ties with his family to marry her—kneeling outside their door in the pouring rain, begging his parents to accept her: "Jessamine is my one true love! I can't survive without her!" Back then, she was the only woman who existed in his eyes.

But now, for the sake of family inheritance, he had the audacity to demand her consent for his childhood sweetheart Celeste to bear their child. Jessamine endured the soul-crushing agony of watching her husband entwined with another woman, night after torturous night.

Even more devastating—after Celeste delivered a daughter, Damien had the shameless nerve to declare: "The family still needs a male heir."

In that shattering moment, Jessamine finally saw the brutal truth.

I once thought I’d married the perfect husband, Kael, pouring all my heart and soul into trying to have a baby—until the birth certificate and adoption agreement in the study safe shattered every beautiful lie.
He and my dearest friend, Celeste, had long ago secretly had an illegitimate child,
and even plotted to trick me into being his foster mother, keeping me in the dark for the rest of my life.
What was even crueler was that on the very day I uncovered the truth, the doctor gave me the news—I was pregnant.
Once I faced the harsh truth, I resolutely faked a shipwreck to flee, going into hiding with my unborn child and leaving my old life behind.
He searched the entire world to find me, casting aside all his pride to beg for my forgiveness with a humble heart—but he could never win me back, not ever.

I was marrying Boone Ashcroft on a Saturday morning. Before I could step out of the truck, his mother walked up with a rope and pointed at the cattle chute behind the barn.
Her terms: hands and knees through six inches of mud and manure. A metal headgate clamped around my neck at the end. That was the price of walking through her front door.
I said no.
Then forty Ashcrofts surrounded the truck. My phone had zero signal. My family was blocked behind a hay baler a quarter mile back. And the man I'd spent three years with looked me in the eye and said: "You're going through that chute today. Crawling or walking — pick one."
They cornered my best friend. Threw hog blood on the windshield. Thought nobody was coming for me.
They didn't know about the CB radio under the console — or the ten cousins listening on the other end.

Ten years ago, my mate faked his death in the war and ran off with his childhood sweetheart.
No goodbye. No contact since.
All he left me were two things — a debt of six hundred and eighty thousand, and a notice declaring him lost, stamped four years later by people who'd never met him.
The bank took our den. I moved into a shared burrow-flat at the edge of the settlement.
Three jobs after hours. Sold blood. Scrubbed latrines. Tested tonics for the healers until my nose stopped working right.
Ten years to pay off the debt. A desk at the Missing and Fallen Registry Office, once the ceasefire finally came.
My first case file was a man the law had already declared dead.
He said he'd been young and reckless. Walked out. Never looked back.
Now his family's land was due a war reparations payout, and he needed his name restored to collect it.
I stared at the name on the form. Recognized it instantly.
Smiled.
"Insufficient documentation. Application denied."

In order to rush to comfort his assistant whose apartment was leaking, Richard signed his name hastily without even glancing at the documents on the table.
I put away the divorce agreement with a wry smile.
When he and my son completely disappeared, he finally panicked.
Three months later .
He knelt down on the streets of Chicago in despair, begging me to remarry him.
My six-year-old son looked coldly at his biological father and said, "Get lost, you bad uncle! You don't deserve to be my dad!"

On the third day of the outbreak, I sat in my company’s executive conference room, gripping the red toy car I bought for my six-year-old son.

Outside the door were zombies filling the building. Beside me were six executives still breathing only because I was.

They wanted meetings. They wanted to wait for rescue. They wanted to chain me with morality.

But I wanted one thing—my son was still in daycare. Three days. No one went for him.

At dawn, I opened the door they’d barricaded shut.

I can shoot. I can clear a path. I will carve my way through to bring him back.

Anyone who stands in my way dies.

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

I was Sophia Corleone. The wife Michael kept hidden from the world. The woman who should have stood beside the Don. And the woman he left to die.
The Morettis tied me up at a dock on Long Island. With the last of my strength, I called my husband. My voice broke with terror: “Michael, please… save me. I’m at the Long Island docks. They’re going to kill me.”
But all I got was his impatient roar, “Sophia, are you lying for attention again? You’d make up something this pathetic just to get me home? God, you make me sick.”
The call cut off in my ear. And then the Morettis killed me.

Duke Orion von Hawthorne is feared by kingdoms, yet cursed with one weakness—he cannot produce an heir. Only a Velaryn woman can break that curse.
He never expected to find one in the Dark Forest.
Sylvara Nyx, wild and painted in gold, fights him like a cornered starfire beast. She is powerful. Untamed. Dangerous. And Orion takes her captive, determined to claim what he believes is his.
But what if the woman he captured… is the one thing he can never keep?

Dear readers, this book has come to an end. Thank you for sticking with me and reading all this time. I highly recommend another amazing novel of the same genre:
. I’d be grateful for your support, thank you!
On my wedding day, I found another woman's sexy lace bra in my husband's car, with semen still on it...

Veronica Demoore was the girl everyone despised.
Mocked for her weight, humiliated for her grades, and crushed beneath a brutal home life, she lived every day as the target of ridicule—until the day she couldn’t bear it anymore.
The world thought Veronica died that night.
But when she opens her eyes again… someone else is looking through them.
Savanna.
A woman once raised in the shadows of a powerful organization. A genius trained to survive, manipulate, and dominate. In her previous life, she had wealth, intelligence, and strength. In this one, she has none of those things—only Veronica’s broken body and shattered reputation.
But weakness is temporary.
Bullies who once laughed at Veronica soon discover the girl they tormented is no longer the same.
Her mind is sharper. Her gaze is colder. And the quiet girl they used to push around now carries a dangerous confidence.
As Savanna begins transforming Veronica’s life piece by piece—losing weight, exposing enemies, and rising to the top of the school—the truth behind her rebirth slowly unfolds.
Because Savanna didn’t die by accident. And the people who killed her are still out there. This time, she won’t be their victim. This time— she’s coming for everything.

One month before my wedding, I was trying on the wedding dress I'd designed myself when a message from a friend popped up: [Diana, get over here! Your fiancé just lost at Truth or Dare and has to kiss your rival.]

On our third anniversary, I gave my husband my pregnancy test results as a gift. What I got back was a photo—a man's hand on a woman's chest. The wedding ring on his finger told me everything I needed to know. He was my husband. And he was cheating.

Affected by her broken family, Amy Hood found it hard to hold faith in a relationship. However, the desire to be a mother drove her to make a crazy decision.
She decided to get a cute baby from some stranger.
She picked an outstanding one and spent an unforgettable night with him.
This was supposed to be a one-night stand for both of them.
But never in her wildest dream, Amy had expected life would bring her back to him,
Derek Shepherd, Her New Boss.
If things could get any worse, it's when he started to force her to step into this dangerous relationship.

His ex‑mate had come back.
The one he’d loved before our pack arranged this bond.
I was just the contract wife.
I knew my place. So I laid the divorce papers on his desk, calm and final.
“Sign it. You don’t need me anymore.”
He stared at me like I’d grown a second head.
Then his jaw tightened, that wolf dominance flaring in his eyes—raw, territorial, furious.
He stepped close, caging me against the wall, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
“Need you? I don’t need you. I own you.
You think you get to choose when this bond ends?
You don’t run. You don’t leave.
You don’t get to divorce me. Not now. Not ever.
You’re mine!"

The plan was simple: Break the nephew by seducing the uncle.
Wesley Vance didn't just break my heart; he tried to sell my dignity. So, I went after the only man he feared. The man who owned the city, the empire, and Wesley’s future.
Lance Lawson. He’s cold. He’s untouchable. He’s my ex-boyfriend’s uncle. I thought I was the one setting the trap. I wore his shirts, haunted his penthouse, and chipped away at his legendary control until the ice finally cracked.
But I made one fatal mistake. I thought Lance was a man I could use and discard. I didn't realize that once you wake a predator, he never goes back to sleep.
Now, Wesley is gone, the Vance family is in ruins, and I’m trapped in a gilded cage of my own making. Because Lance doesn't want my loyalty. He wants my soul.
I wanted revenge. I got an obsession.

"I, Alpha Xander Finch of the Red Moon Pack,” he said. Wait, is he going to accept my rejection now? “Reject your rejection, Alpha Chastity Reid of the Silver Moon Pack,” he added, and my eyes widened when I felt something extraordinary. Maybe he felt it too because he was surprised as well. Then he carried me before he pinned me at the back of the now already closed door and kissed me and, oh goddess, I felt like I missed him for a thousand years already, so I kissed him back.


Chassy, an omega who carries the weight of her heritage, is mistreated by her mother and the Red Moon Pack for her entire existence. Her real potential, which was acquired from a father who came from a mysterious lycan clan, is hidden from her and her tormentors. She found out that Xander, her Alpha, was her mate. For some reason, he hurt her. As a result
Chassy leaves and rejects him.

But destiny has more in store for her. With the advent of her lycan beast, she unexpectedly rises to the position of alpha in her adopted pack. Then she met her father whom she never knew and found out more about herself.

The persistent vampires, push packs to band together under an alliance. Chassy's previous and present lives intersect when Xander stops by her new pack for a joint training session against this backdrop of peril and unity. Will Xander and Chassy be able to cross the gap between them? Can they stand together in the face of the impending vampire threat?

What will Chassy do when she knows that she's unable to give Xander an heir and a boy with his mother comes to the pack claiming Xander to be the father?

Evelyn Vale plans weddings, memorials, and private family ceremonies for people who care too much about how grief looks on camera. She knows lighting, timing, guest flow, and the hidden machinery behind a perfect public moment.

Then one night, while sitting beside the husband who kisses her goodnight, she sees a livestream event scheduled for tomorrow: her own memorial service.

The cover uses her mourning portrait. Grant, her husband, is posed as the devastated widower. Serena, her half sister, stands beside him like a woman already rehearsing the role of replacement wife.

At first Evelyn wants it to be a mistake. Then the invoices appear. The funeral campaign is paid for. The backend record existed. Someone with internal clearance created it, deleted it, and expected Evelyn to die before the broadcast.

Julian Cross, a former livestream safety investigator disgraced by an old death case, is the first person who treats Evelyn's fear as evidence. Together they follow the countdown through funeral contracts, planted comments, medical manipulation, board pressure, platform corruption, and a hidden operator using public grief as a business model.

But Evelyn is not waiting to be rescued. She knows how to build an event. She knows where witnesses should stand, when a microphone should stay open, and how a lie collapses when the room sees the right proof at the right time.

Grant scheduled the funeral.

Evelyn hosts it better.

Zara Torres has three rules at Harlow University.
No drama. No distractions. And absolutely no hockey players.

She breaks all three before October ends when a journalism assignment lands her in Declan Mercer's orbit starting center, infuriatingly perceptive, and somehow always exactly where she isn't expecting him.

Zara tells herself it's professional. She's documenting the ice conflict between two programs sharing one rink. She's not falling for the guy who shows up at six AM with terrible coffee and the unsettling habit of telling her the truth.

She's definitely not thinking about the jump.

The quad Lutz she hasn't fully landed in two years. The fall that broke her wrist and quietly broke something else. The confidence she rebuilt around a gap she keeps pretending isn't there.

But when a journalism assignment becomes something larger, a testimony, an investigation, a story that reaches backward through thirty-three years and fifteen countries. Zara discovers that the thing she thought was a skating problem was never really about skating.

It was about learning who built the walls around the thing that was hers.

And deciding to tear them down anyway.

This story is a young adult sport romance about the cost of excellence, the courage of going first, and what it means to fight for the thing that was yours before anyone decided it was worth something.

The ice was hers first.

She just had to remember that.