8193 Book(s) Related to ashes of asterion legacy of the cursed

I was the heir of Sliver Claw Pack, born with a crippled wolf spirit.
From the day I could walk, everyone said the same thing—
Only Harvey, the future Alpha of Black Moon Pack, would ever be willing to take me as his mate.
So when he publicly canceled our mate bond, I still believed every word he said.
He told me the woman had saved his life. He told me their bond was only temporary—three years. He promised that when those three years ended, he would marry me.
So I willingly became the lover who could never stand in the light.
Until the three-year deadline approached. To negotiate with a rival Alpha, he pushed me— a woman born with a crippled wolf spirit, a woman who could not even shift— into a brutal forest trial filled with beasts.
He said it was the last time. He said that when it was over, he would marry me.
But when the leopard tore open my chest, I finally understood— The wolf placed last in the pack…was the one abandoned to die.
Yet the Moon Goddess gave me a second life.
When I returned to the age of twenty-two and saw him holding that woman’s hand again, I finally realized something.
This time, I would never be his shadow mate again.
And his insane younger brother—looked at me beneath the moonlight and blood and said, “Emma, I can be your mate.”

"Aveline, a world without you means nothing to me."
The dragon's scalding blood splattered across my tombstone, melting the thick blanket of snow.
Five minutes ago, he had severed the crimson fox's head—vengeance for me.
I died at the hands of my most cherished companion, died in a carefully orchestrated betrayal. I'd wielded the full power of the Court to elevate that pitiful low-born wretch to godhood, only for him to join forces with my dear sister and plunge a blade into my heart from behind.
And the dragon war god I had scorned—the one I'd humiliated and treated as nothing more than a beast slave—defied imperial decree, razed an entire city, and severed his own life force. All for me.
I watched his dragonfire extinguish completely in the bitter cold. My soul reached out to embrace him, but passed through nothing but endless snow.
Until a blinding light pierced through my vision.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself staring up at the familiar domed ceiling of the Celestial Hall.
I had returned to three years ago, to the Binding Ceremony that sealed my fate.
Reborn into a second chance, those vermin who climbed to power on dragon bones will finally get the hell they deserve.

"Maeve, your legs are shaking like that... can't hold them together much longer?"
Julian Kingsley pinned me against the wall with one hand, his gray-blue gaze sliding down shamelessly, sweeping over my rigid legs.
I bit down hard, forcing back that damned tremor between my thighs. "None of your fucking business. Back off."
Just as he pressed his body down, closing in, a cold mechanical voice exploded in my head:
[Welcome to the Truth Room.]
[Now, please complete a session of deep penetrative intercourse with a heart rate exceeding 120 for over two hours, or, upon refusal, surrender secrets.]
I stared at this sworn enemy I'd been fighting for seven years—who I'd accidentally fucked two months ago—and my breathing tightened instantly.
Because my biggest secret was this: I was carrying his kid.

Because I'm a scentless wolf, I can never find my fated mate.

My bestie Lydia, claiming she fears I'll be deceived and betrayed, subjects every wolf who approaches me to a "love test." She seduces my suitors in every way possible, then sends me photos of them together after sleeping with them.

"See? He can't be faithful to you at all. Don't let him fool you," she always tells me.

I always believed her persuasion. After enduring twenty disastrous and short-lived relationships, I finally agreed to the arranged marriage my father set up for me, becoming the mate of Alpha Damon.

And Lydia never stopped her testing.

In my past life, I discovered Damon and Lydia's betrayal after our marriage, and was ultimately pushed off a cliff by Lydia to my death.

The Moon Goddess granted me rebirth, bringing me back to right after the mating ceremony. This time, I will have my revenge.

My labor pains flaring violently the same day my husband’s widowed sister-in-law, Nancy, went into labor.
Nancy tricked everyone into believing I carried a girl while she bore the heir son.
Obsessed with securing the inheritance for Nancy’s fake male child, Rowdy locked me inside a hospital morgue cold storage, transferring all doctors, blood reserves and emergency gear to her VIP ward.
I knelt on icy ground, begging him to spare our baby and swore to renounce all family wealth, yet he kicked me aside and called me a greedy schemer.
His adopted sister Gina sneaked down, beat me brutally and injected a high-dose labor suppressant straight into my womb to stall my delivery.
It was only after Nancy delivered her baby that Rowdy belatedly remembered I was also stuck in labor downstairs.
Before he could head down to the basement, his panicked subordinate rushed in and cried, “Boss, Awful!—your wife and your son are died!”

Every time Mason tried to force me to back down, he would slam the divorce agreement onto the table.
Every time my parents wanted me to yield, they threatened to sever all ties with me.
What they wanted was simple: for me to give everything to my twin sister.
I once resisted, cried, and questioned them over and over—why was I always the one left hurt?
Until the doctor slid my medical test results in front of me, and said to me in a tone full of pity:
"The pancreatic cancer cells have metastasized. You only have one month left to live, maybe even less."
I had nothing left to care about. I was doomed no matter what, so they could do whatever they wanted with me.

A blizzard night. My car broke down in the middle of nowhere, and my legs had already lost all feeling.

With purple, cracked fingers, I dialed my fiancé, Silas.

Through the phone came the cozy crackle of a fireplace, and the sweet giggles of the fake heiress, Stella.

"Silas... save me... Route 82..." I gasped, my voice fading.

"Harper, this jealousy game makes me sick," he snapped. "Stella only sat in your passenger seat, and you play disappear? Go freeze to death out there. Don't bother us!"

Beep.

He hung up. Followed by a ruthless block.

He didn't know it wasn't a stunt for attention. It was my last SOS in this world.

When my body was dug out of the snowdrifts, frozen stiff along with the cheap engagement ring he bought on a whim, that arrogant man dropped to his knees on the icy morgue floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Too bad, I could never see it again.

Ever since the day Roman pressed a gun to my head and condemned me as his parents' murderer, I became the most lowly prisoner in this estate.
 
He didn't kill me. Instead, he kept me in line using my dying mother's medical bills and my adopted sister, Callie, as leverage.
 
For three years, he paraded various women into the master bedroom, leaving me to change their tangled sheets; he ground my dignity into the dirt in front of his men, and I swallowed the humiliation in silence.
 
Until the day he wrapped his arm around a pregnant Callie, flaunting her in my face.

I finally broke down, falling to my knees at his feet:
 
"My mother is dying, and Callie is the only family I have left. I'm begging you—direct all your cruelty at me. Just let her go."
 
Roman merely scoffed. Twisting his hand into my hair, he dragged me all the way into the great hall.
 
There, my "terminally ill" mother stood holding a glass of expensive red wine, her face flushed and glowing with health as she smilingly stroked Callie's slightly rounded belly.
 
"Look—it was all a lie." Roman stared at me like I was trash. "Who told you to be so stubborn and refuse to confess? I dropped some spare change, and your mother willingly faked her illness for three years. And your sweet little sister? She calls me her husband in my bed every single day."
 
A brutal chill pierced my bones. I couldn't believe that the very blood relatives I had sacrificed my life to protect were the leeches draining me dry.
 
Roman slammed a Divorce Agreement onto the coffee table. Under the asset division column was an utterly humiliating number: $1.
 
"Callie is pregnant with the family's first-born heir. Be a good girl and sign it—this one dollar is your severance pay."
 
He was so absolutely certain that I would go completely insane at the sight of this pathetic dollar.

He assumed that even with a gun to my head, I would bawl and cling desperately to my title as the Don's wife.
 
But after a brief, dead silence, I signed my name.
 
Then, I picked up that one-dollar coin.
 
"You're right. Our last ten years together are worth exactly one dollar."
 
From this moment on, whether it was my bloodsucking family or the man I had loved for a decade...
 
We were completely, entirely done.

The System told me to do good deeds during the apocalypse.

It also told me to change the world through love.

I've always been the cooperative type. So I raised my blade, brought it down, and carved through the scum of this world—one slash at a time.

The System lost its mind, shrieking inside my head at a deafening pitch:

"AHHH! Host! Why are you killing people?! This counts as evil! Points will be deducted!"

I flicked the blood off my blade and looked up at the ground littered with zombies I'd decapitated.

Then at the man who had just shoved a living person into a horde of zombies as feed—the same man I'd put my blade straight through the throat of.

My fingertip traced the character carved into the hilt: Love.

"What's the problem?"

I shot back. "I'm using my love to send them exactly where they belong. A physical deliverance counts as a good deed."

Five years ago, Leo, the overlord of the abyss who ruled the seven seas, went into hiding and worked as a cook in a dilapidated tavern to save his savior.
When his benefactor was captured by the empire and was about to be executed, the arrogant governor forced him to crawl between his legs in order to see him.
He did as instructed, but was then tricked.
That night, a bone conch shell resounded throughout the seven seas, thousands of ghost warships besieged the city, and the kings of the underworld knelt in unison.
The former "scale-scraping chef" broke through the palace gates, cut through his shackles with a single stroke, and embraced the beauty: "I'll take you home for grilled fish, it's on me."

By day, I was the ruthless Director of Finance working under mafia heir Silvan. By night, I was the secret lover he kept locked away in a guest room.
He gave me luxury cars, a mansion, and endless money, but never a title. I thought he was protecting me—until he packaged both the title of his official wife and my position as CFO, handing them over to Aurea Moretti, a prominent mafia heiress.
And that arrogant man? He casually tossed me a diamond ring like a handout to pacify me. "Titles are just an illusion. Even if I marry someone else, you’ll always be the woman I care about most."
He even had the audacity to offer me a seaside villa, thinking he could keep me forever as his underground mistress in another city.
Looking at his cold, entitled eyes, I finally smiled.
On the day of his engagement to the mafia heiress, I took off the ring and vanished from this city completely.

All because I was unaware that Sophia had followed me on the mission, leaving her stranded in the chaotic dockyard.
My husband, Dante, was furious. He ordered his bodyguards to throw me into a seafood transfer warehouse.
“Cool off in the cold storage. Maybe then you’ll understand how helpless Sophia felt trapped in that container.”
It was a refrigeration unit for seafood, kept at a constant zero degrees, the air thick with the smell of fish.
I pounded on the door, pleading for help, but only Dante’s icy voice came through the intercom:
“Stop the act. The temperature in there won’t kill you. Stay inside and reflect until you learn your lesson.”
He cut the internal communication.
The temperature in the cold room kept dropping—someone had switched on the deep-freeze mode!
Shivering uncontrollably, I beat against the door until my nails left bloody scratches on the wall.
In agony, I curled into a ball. My consciousness faded, and my body grew stiff.
On the third day, Dante finally remembered me while celebrating the takeover of new territory.
In a rare show of mercy, he decided to have someone let me out.
But what he didn’t know was that my heart had already stopped beating from hypothermia long before.

My name is Ethan, and it wasn't until the apocalypse arrived that I realized just how cruel fate could be.

Ability awakening became the new normal. Most survivors gained some kind of supernatural power, ranging from F-rank to the legendary S-rank.

F-rank abilities were barely better than being ordinary, while S-rank ability users possessed the power to face a hundred enemies alone.

My childhood friend Davis awakened a B-rank ability [Thermal Perception], allowing him to sense the heat distribution of all living beings within a hundred-meter radius.

And me? I got the F-rank ability that everyone mocked—[Refresh].

"Hahaha! Refresh? What can that do? Refresh your life?" People at the camp always laughed at me like that.

But I didn't care. I only wanted to protect my sister Leia.

Leia is eighteen this year, one of the few ordinary people in this camp who haven't awakened an ability.

I swore to protect her, no matter the cost.

That evening at dusk, Davis came to find me, but he had already betrayed me and become a lackey of the Gray Mark Gang.

My godfather father fell gravely ill and passed the position of Don ahead of time to my fiancé Chris, whom I had not seen for two years.
But he did not fulfill his promise to marry me once I returned home, claiming instead that he would marry my half-sister Lily.
“Sophie has lost sight in her right eye. She is no longer fit to be the Don’s wife.”
“With Sophie’s dull temperament, what does she have besides the surname Rossi? If it weren’t for that position—”
So the feelings of all these years, the eye I lost, the suffering I endured in Sicily—none of it meant anything.
I was nothing more than a stepping stone for him to become the new Don.

“The wedding will go on as planned.”
Darren sat in the dimly lit living room, his voice flat as if he were commenting on the weather. But the fabric of my dress was already wrinkled in my fists, my nails cutting crescents into my skin—because only hours ago, I had seen it with my own eyes.
The man with crippling OCD, who never let anyone touch his things, had casually lifted Paisley’s glass and taken a sip.
My wolf, Emily, snarled restlessly in my mind: “He’s betrayed us! Break the bond—call it off!”
But I clung to the last threads of hope, my gaze locked on the wedding ring at his finger—engraved with both our names. He once told me the ring was crafted with a strong magnet, which whenever we were near, they’d pull together. Proof, he said, of us being true Fate Mates.
Until the night of the Moon Ceremony.
I walked toward him in my white gown, only to catch the naked loathing in his eyes.
“The mate I longed for isn’t you. I regret this.”

He called me bland. So I slept with his boss to spite him.
Now I'm pregnant by the most ruthless Alpha in the city, and he wants me to be his fake mate.
Living in his penthouse, the contract feels less fake every day. Especially when he goes feral protecting me.
Then I discover I'm a hidden heiress worth billions.
Suddenly my "basic" ass is Luna Queen material.
Revenge tastes sweet.

"She's wolfless. She's worthless. She's not fit to be my Luna."
Those were the last words her fated mate spoke before claiming another woman as his Luna—after Thalia sacrificed her own wolf in a forbidden blood ritual to save his life.
Broken and abandoned, Thalia thought she had lost everything.
But the Moon Goddess had other plans.
Her wolf didn't die that night.
It split.
Now, three powerful Alphas are bound to the pieces of her broken soul:
The Pack Healer, whose gentle touch awakens a desire she can't deny.
The Rogue Alpha, who would burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again.
And the mate who rejected her, now on his knees begging for forgiveness.
As ancient magic awakens and rival packs close in, Thalia must uncover the truth behind her shattered wolf before it destroys everything.
And suddenly the question isn't who she belongs to anymore...

MURDER IN THE MANOR (A LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY—BOOK 1) is the debut novel in a charming new cozy mystery series by Fiona Grace. Lacey Doyle, 39 years old and freshly divorced, needs a drastic change. She needs to quit her job, leave her horrendous boss and New York City, and walk away from the fast life. Making good on her childhood promise to herself, she decides to walk away from it all, and to relive a beloved childhood vacation in the quaint English seaside town of Wilfordshire.Wilfordshire is exactly as Lacey remembers it, with its ageless architecture, cobblestone streets, and with nature at its doorstep. Lacey doesn’t want to go back home—and spontaneously, she decides to stay, and to give her childhood dream a try: she will open her own antique shop.Lacey finally feels that her life is taking a step in the right direction—until her new star customer turns up dead.As the newcomer in town, all eyes are on Lacey, and it’s up to her to clear her own name.With a business to run, a next-door neighbor turned nemesis, a flirty baker across the street, and a crime to solve – is this new life all that Lacey thought it would be?Book #2 in the series—DEATH AND A DOG—is also available for preorder!

After she watched her mom die due to negligence from the very people she had worked tirelessly for, her only goal became to watch Vincent Crost crumble.

She did not care who she had to destroy to make that happen.

I bled for her company.
Literally.
Seventy-two hours straight at the keyboard until my nose dripped blood onto the keys.
She couldn't answer thirty calls while I lay dying—she was too busy riding her boy toy in Cabo.
So I did what any good programmer does with corrupted files.
I hit delete.
On everything.
Her access. Her code. Her future.
What I built, I could destroy.

"Get out of here with your dying bastard!"
My son suddenly fell critically ill, and the only matching organ was locked in my wife's family's cold storage. I stormed into the company with my critically ill child, only to be met with a severe suspension notice.
Everyone thought I was some lowly social outcast, someone they could crush at any moment.
Until I pulled out that dusty badge, my father-in-law, who controlled a New York business empire, was so terrified that he cleared the room on the spot, his legs going weak.
"Arrange surgery for my son immediately." I looked at him coldly. "If he misses the optimal transplant window, I guarantee your entire family, and this city, will be executed for him."

My wife, Vanessa, believed her lover when he said I had hidden his daughter.
So she dragged my parents into a basement, tied them to a support column, and pointed a fake bomb at them over video call.
She wanted me to confess.
But I had nothing to confess.
When the explosion tore through the building, she still thought I was the one who had ruined everything. She came home the next day, blamed me for my mother’s death, then forced me to give blood to the child she thought I had hurt.
By the time Vanessa learned who had truly taken the girl, who had switched the device, and who had destroyed our family, I had already signed the divorce papers.
Some apologies arrive too late to open a closed door.

I was cursed, trapped in a "Trial of Sincerity"—I could only regain my freedom if she spoke the words "I love you" from the bottom of her heart.
For five years, I’ve taken bullets for her, gone to prison for her, and stood on the brink of death four times. She would only call me "my best friend" or say "I need you," but she never uttered those three words.
Four times, she abandoned me as I lay dying, rushing instead to the side of another man.
The fifth time, with a bullet in my abdomen and my insides exposed, I lay on the operating table. She finally wept, screaming "I love you"—once, twice... twelve times in total.
Too bad. After waking up from that fourth brush with death, I had already signed a Do-Not-Resuscitate (DNR) order.
This time, my heart has stopped beating. Not because of my wounds, but because I’ve made my choice: I won't let her save me.

After the Cosmic Pulse Event, human civilization was wiped off the map.

Some people turned into zombies. Others awakened abilities.

In my previous life, I hadn't awakened anything yet when I made the mistake of letting my uncle's family in — I was too soft-hearted. They thanked me by killing me and my parents.

Given a second chance, I kept that door locked. No matter how much my uncle's family wailed and threatened, I didn't budge.

But when the apocalypse finally broke, I awakened a Farm Ability — while my uncle outside awakened a Killing Blade.

A mouth after my best friend Laura jumped to her death following a rape, I was dragged onto a makeshift stage in St. John's High auditorium by a mob of vengeful students.
They accused me of protecting the real rapist—of being complicit in driving Laura to suicide.
My boyfriend Zayne Spencer, also Laura's childhood friend, was coldly pressing the sensors of a "memory extractor" against my temples.
The agony from my terminal illness made me shake violently, but he didn't even flinch.
He stared down at me, his eyes ice-cold. "Helen, last chance. Either you give up that bastard yourself, or I let this machine rip it out of you."
Thousands of students were screaming for my blood.
And Zayne was about to crack open my skull in this livestreamed witch hunt to drag out the so-called culprit.
But he had no idea that when that face finally flashed across the giant screen, the first person to shatter completely would be him.

My Husband Died to Join Me I begged him to see me. He didn't. He believed her. Every word. I died in my bedroom. When I woke up, no one could see me anymore. She stole my husband. My home. My son. Then she painted me as insane. Everyone believed I was the monster. But there was a hidden camera. When he finally saw the footage, he broke. He avenged me. Then he made one last promise. This time, he came to find me.

Seven years ago, the yacht explosion I suggested took the lives of my husband and my best friend.   That same day, my premature baby's heart stopped beating in the incubator.   For seven years, I locked myself in a hell of guilt and self-destruction, attempting to end my life hundreds of times.   Until today. In the hospital, I ran into my "dead" husband gently protecting my best friend, holding a seven-year-old boy in his arms.   They weren't just alive; they had become a happy family of three.   More absurdly, my parents were standing right beside them, their faces full of affection.   It turned out that hell wasn't the afterlife. It was the world I was living in right now.

"I need an accident—one that looks fatal," I said calmly into the encrypted phone. "It's the only way to escape him."
Rumors swirl that this man—the underworld boss who controls half of Europe’s shadow economy—loves me beyond reason.
They say he defied his entire family for me. That this ruthless killer laid down his weapons just to cook me a meal.
For years, he made the world believe I was his one weakness—and even I almost believed it.
But instinct in a life-or-death moment doesn’t lie.
When bullets shattered the car window, he yanked the steering wheel on reflex—shielding my adopted sister in the passenger seat while leaving me, his wife, fully exposed to the hail of gunfire.
As I lay bleeding, desperately trying to protect our unborn child… he was busy cradling her in his arms.
While I endured everything for our future, he signed over the estate—the one he promised would be our retire place—to that lying sister.
That’s when I knew: some loves are just performances for the living.
So I gave him exactly what he wanted.
I left behind a positive pregnancy test—six weeks along—and drove straight into the deep ocean, staging the most brutal finale right before his eyes.

Clad in gray mist, kneeling on iron rocks, working as a menial laborer, everyone thought he was just a worthless nobody, groveling in the dust for an old pocket watch. His
in-laws found him filthy, his fiancée defected to a new master, and Lord Calder treated his obsession like a leash, subjecting him to arbitrary humiliation and summons at will.
Until that day, Calder shattered his last hope with an arrow, throwing him into the horde of zombies as a human sacrifice. Everyone thought he was doomed, but no one suspected—
the man kneeling in the mud wiping his boots was actually the reclusive lord of the strongest city-state in this wasteland, possessing S-class superpowers and ultimate weaponry.
He endured, solely for the truth and reckoning.
When he returned from the horde of zombies, radiating overwhelming power, the once high and mighty man knelt outside the city gates, weeping and begging him to open a path to survival.

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

I’d spent six years working under an alias for the High Council.
The day I came home, I happened to see my daughter being slapped by a woman and forced to kneel down.
I slapped the woman back and called my husband, Derek.
The call connected. In the background, I heard his newlywed wife giggling.
In a voice so cold I barely recognized it, he said, “No one can save you.”
Then he hung up.

That woman sneered, “Here, even the air you breathe belongs to Alpha Derek!”
She had no idea Derek only went from an ordinary Gamma to a Pack king because I’d been laying the road for him from behind the curtain.
Now he had his precious wife and son in his arms, and he still let them treat my daughter like a dog.

I smiled.
If he’d forgotten who lifted him onto the throne.
Then I wouldn’t mind dragging him down with my own hands.

“I’m the one deciding your fate, Derek.”
I took my daughter’s hand and looked straight at the man in front of me.
“Game over. Your Alpha era ends here.”

“You’re not a daughter of this family,” my mother hissed in the dim light, her eyes burning with fury. “If you can’t support your sister Francesca, then get out.”
I should have seen it coming. In the Moretti family, family means everything—unless you're me. Adriana Moretti, the disappointment. My perfect sister, Francesca Moretti, got all the love, the titles, and even my fiancé, Salvatore Romano. And me? I got an engagement ceremony that no one bothered to show up to. Not even the man who once swore he'd always be mine.
That night, I ran.
Now, I've built a new life in the Genoa mafia, where power is the only rule that matters. I’ve learned to fight, to lead, and to make my enemies kneel with nothing more than a look. But when I receive a message saying that Francesca is on the brink of death and the family demands I come back…

Seven years ago, Cate Sullivan was presumed dead following a tragic fire while she was carrying twins. The man who loved her with all his heart, Dylan Carter, buried her himself… but he didn't recover.
Surprisingly, She survived. Devastated, psychologically damaged, and suffering from amnesia, she has been raising twins for the past seven years in poverty, unaware of the billionaire who lost her and is still looking for the woman he never stopped loving.
That changes on a snowy night when he finds a young boy stealing from Cate's grave… a boy who looks like him. Because contrary to what he thought all these years, his deceased lover has returned along with his twins.
But someone is determined to keep the truth buried forever. As old memories resurface and dangerous secrets unravel, Cate and Dylan are pulled back into a love story destroyed by betrayal, obsession, and seven years of heartbreaking separation.
Yet the closer they grow, the more deadly the past becomes. Because the woman who tried to erase Cate once before is prepared to do it again.
In a story filled with painful misunderstandings, hidden identities, emotional reunions, and a love powerful enough to survive death itself, one question remains: What happens when the man who buried you discovers even in poverty and memory loss you never stopped loving him?

I never asked to be special. I just wanted to survive.

When I got the scholarship to Caldera Academy, I thought it was my ticket out of a life of scraping by on the mainland. My magic was weak, messy, and hard to control, but they told me the Covenant Ritual would fix that. They told me I’d bond with a creature, balance my power, and finally belong.

They lied.

I didn't get a beautiful, glowing stallion or a friendly wind-hound. I bonded with Vesper—a shadow-manticore, a creature the world swore was extinct because they were too dangerous to live. Suddenly, I wasn't just a charity case anymore. I was a target.

Now, my roommate has gone missing, the teachers are covering it up, and the golden-boy warden, Julian Sterling, is watching my every move. But I’m not running. I’ve spent my whole life being afraid, and I’m done with it. If this school wants to treat me like a monster, I’ll show them exactly what a monster can do.

The Koch family is the oldest family in the Blue Star Kingdom. As the new generation heir, Chad Koch has encountered many women—some attracted to his wealth, others to his looks, but none genuinely cared for him as a person. Consequently, Chad Koch has perpetually upheld a demeanor of aloofness towards the fairer sex.
Amidst a twist of fate, Daphne emerges as the savior of Chad Koch's venerable grandfather.
Thus unfolds the tale of emotional intricacies between a haughty scion of royalty and a humble maiden of the farmlands.

Her hands slid up to his chest, palms flat, feeling the solid strength beneath his shirt. The fear didn’t vanish completely. But it quieted. Receded into the background. Logan’s thumb brushed her cheek, slow and grounding, as his other hand settled at her waist.

The kiss grew warmer. Slower. Logan felt it too, sharp and electric. His wolf stirred restlessly, recognizing something it shouldn’t, something it wanted to claim even as his mind warned him to stop. He broke the kiss first, breathing hard, forehead resting against hers.

“Emily,” he murmured, strained. “We should—” She didn’t let him finish. Her lips brushed his jaw, tentative, almost questioning. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Don’t send me away.”


After being betrayed forty-eight times by her mate, Oscar, Emily is drugged and offered to powerful wolves for his gain. Desperate and fleeing danger, she collapses into the arms of Lucas Walker, one of seven feared Alpha Brothers who rule the strongest pack. Drawn to her by an unstoppable pull, the brothers vow to protect her. But Emily’s past hides a darker secret, one that fate has bound to all of them.

“Does Mr. Howard Have an STD?”
With one sentence, Sienna tore apart her marriage to Ethan.
For three years of their secret marriage, she was his obedient wife, his silent assistant, and the woman he always overlooked.
Until she discovered that every business trip he took was spent living with his adopted sister.
While he was hospitalized after a car accident, she slipped divorce papers into his documents and tricked him into signing them.
She quit her job, moved out, and inherited a massive fortune.
The whole city mocked her, saying she was nothing without Ethan.
But she turned around and climbed back to the top of the industry, standing beside a man even more powerful than him.
Only then did Ethan realize what he had lost, kneeling before her and begging for another chance.
She leaned down slightly and smiled.
“Mr. Howard, when you cheated on me… did you ever think I could choose someone else too?”

“Sophie Love's ability to impart magic to her readers is exquisitely wrought in powerfully evocative phrases and descriptions….FOR NOW AND FOREVER is the perfect romance or beach read, with a difference: its enthusiasm and beautiful descriptions offer an unexpected attention to the complexity of not just evolving love, but evolving psyches. It's a delightful recommendation for romance readers looking for a touch more complexity from their romance reads.”--Midwest Book Review (Diane Donovan) “FOR NOW AND FOREVER is a very well written novel, describing the struggle of a woman (Emily) to find her true identity. The author did an amazing job with the creation of the characters and her description of the environment. The romance is there, but not overdosed. Kudos to the author for this amazing start of a series that promises to be very entertaining.”--Books and Movies Reviews, Roberto MattosEmily Mitchell, 35, living and working in New York City, has struggled through a string of failed relationships. When her boyfriend of 7 years takes her out for their long-awaited anniversary dinner, Emily is sure that this time will be different, that this time she will finally get the ring.When he gives her a small bottle of perfume instead, Emily knows the time has come to break up with him—and for her entire life to have a fresh start.Reeling from her unsatisfying, high-pressure life, Emily decides she needs a change. She decides on a whim to drive to her father’s abandoned home on the coast of Maine, a sprawling, historic house where she’d spent magical summers as a child. But the house, long-neglected, is in dire need of repair, and the winter is no time to be in Maine. Emily hasn’t been there in 20 years, when a tragic accident changed her sister’s life and shattered her family. Her parents divorced, her father disappeared, and Emily was never able to bring herself to step foot in that house again.Now, for some reason, with her life reeling, Emily feels drawn to the only childhood place she ever knew. She plans on going just for a weekend, to clear her head. But something about the house, its numerous secrets, its memories of her father, its oceanfront allure, its small-town setting—and most of all, its gorgeous, mysterious caretaker—doesn’t want to let her leave. Can she find the answers she’s been looking for here, in the most unexpected place of all?Can a weekend become a lifetime?FOR NOW AND FOREVER is book #1 in the debut of a dazzling new romance series that will make you laugh, make you cry, will keep you turning pages late into the night—and will make you fall in love with romance all over again.Book #2 will be available soon.

Olympia was sold during the Annual Omega Bidding to the powerful and arrogant Alpha King, Alpha Fabian, who owns a five-star night club. Every year, he recruits Omegas to serve as strippers in the club. Others, to serve his top clients in the bedroom.
Most sold off by their relatives.
Once recruited here, chances of escaping and getting a fated mate are slim as the Omegas are considered used.
He’s the most powerful Alpha King in the world, no one can question him.
Leaving her family behind and worse, being sold off by her stepdad haunted her.
Upon arrival at the palace, she got into an issue with one of the task masters overseeing the royal maids.
At the verge of punishment, she’s rescued by a cool, charming gentleman when everyone else watches. Olympia fell for him at first sight, only to discover they are quadruplets.
Alpha Fabian, upon discovering her first day rebellion, as punishment, handed her over to his ruthless quadruplet sons as their personal callgirl.
Alpha Elliott, Asher and Ryder soon realize she’s their mate and are more than eager to tame her, not only physically but in bed but she hates them. They are Enigma Alphas, too dangerous for an Omega like her.
But she loves only one.
Alpha Cassius. The Alpha who saved her.
But what will be her fate as Alpha Cassius is an Enigma. He's an exorcist, regarded as consecrated mate of the moon goddess yet he's the only one among the Alpha princes she wants most, her wolf desires, her body arches for.
What will become of this intense forbidden passion between an Omega slave and the charming exorcist who is trying hard to fight demons and his feral desires at the same time?

Born a Lycan princess, she was stolen from the castle by a witch.

Sybil was raised knowing exactly who she was… and exactly what she had been bred for.

A womb. A crown. Her bloodline’s legacy.

But Sybil was never meant to be a broodmare queen.

She grew up human with the strength and senses of a shewolf and the magic of the witches.

She’s strong, intelligent, disciplined, and lethal. An MMA champion. A combat instructor for a private military contractor. A woman who learned to fight before she ever learned to howl.

The werewolf King finally tracks them down, Sybil is summoned back to a kingdom that remembers her only as its missing heir.

Betrayed by her hybrid fiancé, who abandoned her to marry the princess of their kingdom, Sybil made a decision that will shake three kingdoms.

She returned. Not for love. Not for duty. For revenge…

But the throne comes with chains.

Instead of marrying one Alpha, she is fated to four Alpha Guardians of Lupenreich.

Sybil cannot feel her wolf, for it was caged deep within her soul. She cannot smell her mates. She is a Lycan princess trapped in a wolfless body.

While her four Alphas believe they are claiming their future Luna and Queen, Sybil is already planning something far more dangerous.

She will not stand beside a king.

She will not be used to breed to secure bloodlines.

And she certainly will not be ruled.

If the kingdom wants a queen… They’re about to kneel to a rebel queen.

Because Sybil von Rosen is not an ordinary Luna.

She is the last Lycan heir. The forbidden daughter of witches. The mate of four Alpha Guardians.

And she intends to take the throne for herself and will bow to no one.

They told me my daughter drowned. Too much to drink, a slick deck, a terrible accident.

Then they put a number on her, slid the check across the table, and asked me to sign away the right to ever ask how she died.

I signed.

They didn't ask what I'd do after.

I changed my name. I spent three years earning a desk in their building, close enough to hear the man who buried her joke about the father who "made some noise, took the money, and went away."

He doesn't know my face. None of them do.

They thought the money bought my silence.

They have no idea what it bought.

In my previous life, I gave away all my resources to save people, but my godfather broke my legs and fed me to the zombies.
Reincarnated 30 days before the apocalypse, I borrowed millions to build a nuclear-proof bunker and bought twelve retired, violent, and rabid dogs.
Extreme cold descends. With nowhere else to turn and in a desperate attempt to survive, the priest forces a space-age ability user to pinpoint the coordinates of the area inside the bunker with the "highest concentration of heat," and then forcibly teleports to steal the bunker.
He landed laughing wildly, feeling the scorching heat wave hitting him, thinking he had taken over my generator room and greenhouse.
I sneered and remained silent through the bulletproof glass.
This idiot has no idea that the hottest place in my shelter... has never been the generator.

I’m a retired Special Forces soldier. After I got out, I handled problems people didn’t want on paper, and I’ve seen enough dirty work to last a lifetime.

When I finally retired for real, I wanted a normal life.

So I came back to the orphanage where I grew up, planning to adopt a quiet seven-year-old boy I’d kept in touch with for years.

But the moment I arrived, I was told he’d already been “adopted.”

I called the family to make sure he was safe. On the line he said, “I’m fine.”
Then I heard it—fingernails tapping in a pattern: three short, three long, three short.

The distress signal I had taught him.

I stormed into the director’s office and forced the truth out: the adoption papers were fake. He wasn’t taken into a home. He was sold.

They think I’m just a returning orphanage worker.
They have no idea what I’ve done out there—and no idea I’m very good at cleaning up this kind of mess.

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

There was a project at our company that promised a £50,000 bonus upon completion.
As the lead planner, I had worked my fingers to the bone for over half a year, pushing the project to 99% completion. Yet, just a week ago, right at the final hurdle, Charlotte—the daughter of the company’s largest shareholder—got jealous.

Eager to steal the ultimate credit, she forcibly parachuted into the project department, hijacked my position as the lead planner, and insisted on presenting the pitch to the client’s top executives herself.

Amateurs dictating to professionals—the outcome was entirely predictable.
Her arrogant, clueless micro-management completely infuriated the client’s Big Boss. They flipped out on the spot, threatening to terminate the contract and seek damages.

After causing this catastrophic disaster, the "princess"—who normally paraded around calling everyone her "bros"—played dead at the speed of light.
She ignored calls, left emails unread, and threw the entirely collapsed, hopeless mess right into my face.

For the sake of my team's blood, sweat, and tears, and even more so to prevent my boyfriend Bastian’s company from getting sued, I paid £24,000 out of my own pocket. I stayed up for three consecutive nights, scrambling to find a backup crew, booking restaurants to humbly appease the client, and ultimately breathed life back into the chaotic mess she left behind.

I thought that when I brought the receipts in for reimbursement, I would at least get a guilty "thank you." Instead, she flipped through the stack of invoices, let out a cold sneer, and smacked them right back into my face.

"Bella, after making such a massive compliance mess, you actually have the nerve to ask me for a reimbursement?"

My wife was a fearsome Mafia queen in Chicago.
On the anniversary of our daughter's death, she didn't show up.
When I arrived, the male college student she was keeping was trampling on my daughter's black-and-white portrait.
Instead of scolding him, my wife shielded him in her arms: "Marco was just a child, why are you arguing with him?"
She thought I would be like a dog, forever subservient to her for wealth and power, enduring her betrayal.
Until I discovered the true cause of my daughter's tragic death—
I simply pulled out a gun and pressed the muzzle against her forehead.

At Nico's funeral, the screen of the phone in my hand suddenly lit up, and I accidentally answered a FaceTime call from the Dario Falcone of three years ago.
On the screen, he was still wearing that faded leather jacket, the scar above his brow left from protecting me.
He was still a penniless bodyguard, clutching my ultrasound report with barely contained excitement, his eyes shining:
"Vittoria, isn't our baby adorable?"
"Do you think it's a strong little boy or a beautiful little girl?"
"No matter who he takes after, I'll protect him with my life."
I knelt on the cold floor, staring silently at him.
The Dario from three years ago sensed that something was wrong. The smile slowly froze on his face.
The next second, the heavy church doors were kicked open.
The priest's prayer came to an abrupt stop.
The Dario of three years later, the terrifying Mafia Don, strode inside.
His tailored suit was immaculate, while the bodyguards behind him roughly knocked over the wreaths lining the aisle.
He stopped in front of me, his voice cold and utterly emotionless.
"Vittoria, you actually staged a fake funeral for your own son just to get revenge on Colette. You really are sick."
I didn't look up or acknowledge his fury. I simply stared at the bodyguard on the screen from three years ago, the one who looked utterly bewildered.
Then, numb, I turned the phone around and pointed it at the tiny white coffin in the center of the hall.
Looking at the screen, I answered the man's question from three years ago.
"A boy. He was adorable, and he had eyes just like yours."
"But he's already dead."

I was an orphan, and a rare heart condition ate away at me for twenty years. The night I died in that cold hospital room, a reaper in a black robe came for me.

He told me if I crossed into a world of werewolves, into the Moonheart Pack, and made Estelle's family genuinely love me — Estelle being the real daughter who'd died a horrible death there — and if I rewrote the ending where they all went mad and tore each other apart, I'd get my health back for good. A second life.

For twenty years in that body, I loved every single one of them with everything I had.

My husband Rhett was the youngest Alpha the pack had ever had. I mentioned once that I wanted Alaskan wild berries, and he drove a thousand miles overnight to get them. My mother Sylvia, the pack's head healer, made me tonics herself every single day. My father Everett and my brother Callum spoiled me so much the whole pack envied me for it.

I thought I'd actually rewritten my fate. I thought I was the happiest person alive.

Until that night.

I'm carrying a berry pie I baked myself toward the council hall when I hear my mother's voice, flat and cold.

"Estelle's heart is finally in perfect condition. Now's the best time to take it."

"Her heart buys Lila's life. She should be grateful for it." Rhett says it like it's nothing. "Once we take the heart, I'll dissolve the mate bond myself."

So this is it. All that kindness was just to grow a healthy heart for their adopted girl.

Three years. I've spent three years trying to love them, to thaw them out, to change things.

Then let it end here.

Five years ago, my fiancée and a chaebol heir broke my ribs and threw me into the sewer like trash.

Five years later, they implanted a neurotoxin bomb into the back of my sister's neck, forcing me on all fours to crawl between the security guards' legs into their engagement banquet at a Manhattan penthouse hotel.

My ex-fiancée poured champagne over my wounds, while the chaebol heir ground caviar into the muddy water with his leather shoes, forcing me to lick it clean like a dog.

The room full of Wall Street elites laughed at my humiliation, thinking I was still the same bottom-tier temp worker from back then.

They had no idea that through my micro-earpiece, a heavy armored division was already on standby under the cover of night.

When the confirmation came that the bomb had been defused, I slowly stood up straight.

Outside the window, engines roared. Ten heavy Black Hawk helicopters tore through the curtain of rain, their heavy machine guns instantly shattering the banquet hall's reinforced glass.

Looking down at the chaebol heir who was now slumped in the muddy water, I drew my sidearm: "The debt from five years ago—today, I'm collecting it with your family's lives."