9608 Book(s) Related to a baby for the ceo

Madeline had her entire life mapped out until she catches her fiancé in bed with her stepsister one week before graduation. Homeless, humiliated, and done being the girl who plays by the rules, she makes the worst decision of her life.

She moves in with Jaxson Vane.

Notorious. Ruthless. Captain of the rival hockey team with a draft spot dangling on the edge of his GPA. He needs a tutor. She needs a roof. Seven days. Clean and simple.

Except nothing about Jax is clean. Or simple.

He tests every boundary she has, and some she didn't know existed. But the closer she gets, the more she realizes the arrangement was never what he said it was. He knew exactly who she was before she knocked on his door. And he needed her for something that has nothing to do with tutoring.

Something that puts the people who destroyed her life directly in the crossfire.

Something that could detonate both their futures.

She came in with a plan. She's leaving with scorch marks.

Seven days. One secret.
And a man who makes her want to sin

Ariel thought rejection was the worst pain a mate bond could bring—until the night she was beaten, mocked, and left with nothing but her scars. She ran, desperate for freedom, only to fall into the arms of the one man every alpha feared to cross.

Trent Blackwood.
Cruel. Untouchable. A predator wrapped in the skin of a king. His very presence could silence a room, his dark aura enough to make even alphas bow their heads. Women trembled at his name, but when his hard gaze landed on Ariel—the fragile slave girl who should have broken years ago—he didn’t see weakness. He saw fire. He saw his.

She wanted escape. He wanted her surrender.
Her defiance only fueled his hunger, her innocence clashing dangerously with his possessive obsession. The more she pushed him away, the more he pulled her into his shadow—protecting her, claiming her, daring the world to touch what was his.

Between betrayal, forbidden desires, and a war that could tear their world apart, Ariel will discover that the most dangerous place she can be… is in the arms of the alpha who swore to never let her go.

Abandoned as a stand-in wife and discarded the moment his first love returned, Eva Joseph was supposed to fade away quietly. Instead, the meek housewife vanished, and a razor-sharp underworld hacker and fierce heiress stepped back into the light. Armed with secrets, elite tech, and a burning desire for vengeance, Eva is ready to show her ex-husband and his precious bride what it means to cross a queen. No more playing nice. The divorce papers are signed, the stakes are lethal, and the heiress is back to take it all.

I kept a list. Ninety-eight times my husband chose another woman over me.

Missed birthdays, ruined anniversaries, broken promises—all for his "patient" Sophia, who seemed to have a medical emergency every time we had plans.

"It's just my job, Emma," he would say. "You understand."

Ryan thought he could have his cake and eat it too. He was wrong.

After an incident, I was determined to leave him, and before I left, I gave him an unforgettable "gift."

My five-year-old son had never hugged me first.

Whenever I reached for him, Ian stepped back, lowered his eyes, and politely told me I could go.

I thought he didn’t want me.

Then, on the night I was supposed to die, a mysterious reader thread appeared on my phone.

Look at him pretending he doesn’t care.

He wants his mother to stay so badly—but if he gets too emotional, his wolf ears will appear.

I canceled dinner and crouched in front of him.

“I’m staying home tonight.”

Hope lit his face before he could hide it.

Then he asked the question that broke my heart.

“Only tonight?”

The folder slid across the table toward Hannah's husband. Sign here. Family helps family.

What the Whitfields never once thought to wonder was that the quiet daughter-in-law they'd spent four years bleeding had almost three million dollars they couldn't see.

She'd hidden it for one reason: to keep the only good man in that family from being turned into their wallet.

Now they wanted his signature. His house. His name on their debt.

They had spent a lifetime underestimating the quiet one.

They were about to learn what that costs.

I'm an OB-GYN. On Valentine's Day, I pulled a ring out of a woman's vagina.

It turned out to be my husband's wedding ring.

An hour before, he'd texted me. Said he loved me. Said he was too busy with work to come home.

I wanted a divorce. Needed one. But then I found out—our marriage was never registered.

In his manor, I was nothing. Just a fake wife.

He grabbed me by the throat—right in front of his mistress. Called me "damaged goods." Said I'd spent a year in another man's house.

But that year, I went as a hostage in his place.

I ran. Made it to the cliff's edge, covered in blood. And the man who saved me? The mafia godfather who'd held me captive that whole year.

He looked at me. "Marry me."

My little sister and I each bear a Heart-Seed Mark etched into our chests.
Inside each seed grow Heartbeat Petals—currency that can trade for anything under the boughs of The Heart-Root, the ancient devouring tree.
At eight years old, I plucked one petal to cure Mom’s terminal cancer.
At ten, I tore out another to mend my older brother’s shattered bones after his brutal fight.
At twenty-four, I sacrificed my third and final petal to wake my husband’s sister from a car-crash-induced vegetative state.
Now, two disasters struck at once: my father died in a horrific car wreck, and my husband’s mistress lost their unborn baby.
Both sides of my family flocked to The Heart-Root, all fixated on stealing my petals for their own wishes.
I tried to step aside and let my younger sister go first to make the trade, but Mom shoved me hard.
“Every bit of love we’ve poured into you these years, every petal came from us! You’d really hold out and refuse to save your own father? Ungrateful girl!” my mom snapped.
My husband’s mom cut in sharp as a knife: “A good wife knows her place. It’s your duty to bring that baby back for your husband. If only you’d given him a son yourself.”
They tied me tight to the tree trunk. I watched a girl standing nearby get torn apart by black, writhing vines when she had no petals left—her flesh dissolved straight into the tree’s roots to feed it.
But my Heart-Seed didn’t have a single petal left either...

Travis Savage and I were a notorious public pair, bound together by nothing but hatred.

In the glittering, indulgent world of Chicago, he was an untouchable mafia king who ruled with absolute power, making and breaking rules on a whim. And I? I was the wife he loathed above all others in his criminal empire.

It all started when my parents lost their lives saving him, gunned down by his rivals. After their deaths, he kept me close as I grew up, and eventually, our marriage became what everyone expected. For a long time, he was my only anchor in this lonely world.

Once, he’d knelt before me and sworn to protect me for the rest of my life.

Now, he hated me.

He hated that I refused to sign the divorce papers, that I stood in the way of him running off with Renee Sutton — the orphan girl he claimed to have rescued off the streets.

He let her walk all over me and flaunt herself openly in front of me. To get back at them, I leaked their sordid secrets overnight across all of Chicago: their flirty messages, their hotel stays. Word spread through both the criminal underworld and high society alike, leaving the pair mocked and shunned by everyone.

Our marriage had rotted away years ago, worn thin by endless mutual resentment. It was stagnant, foul, and long dead.

Until three days ago.

A string of ambushes left Travis a hunted man. While swerving to avoid an oncoming truck, he was involved in a devastating car crash.

He lay unconscious in the ICU for three full days. When he woke, he claimed he’d forgotten every ounce of the nine years of hatred between us. In his mind, he was still nineteen — the age when he loved me with everything he had.

My younger sister scored 8.2. I scored 0.3.
She was the genius. I was the waste-blood Omega.
My parents threw me to the strays.
Said I didn't deserve the Silver Moon name.
Said the slum was where I belonged.
Now I'm awake, with molten gold in my veins.
This time, you'll be the ones begging to take me back.

In my past life, I was tricked into a trap by my neighbor, my leg broken, and thrown into acid rain to die. Reborn, I returned to nine months before the acid rain apocalypse. Meteorites struck, radiation contaminated, water sources dried up, and civilization collapsed. I still had one last chance to save myself and reverse the future. When I mortgaged my house, borrowed heavily from loan sharks, and finally found the water purification engineer whom everyone considered crazy, I was met with merciless ridicule. Faced with humiliation, I simply smiled faintly—"Do you know when water is more precious than gold?"

A lowly Omega orphan stole my body using the dark magic of a Night Witch.
In my past life, I tried like a madwoman to prove that I was the pack's true pureblood heiress.
But my parents didn't believe me, and neither did my fated mate.
They locked me in the dungeon with chains soaked in wolfsbane. Later, Elara even bribed the guards and sold me like livestock to a rogue pack in the wastelands.
My throat was torn out alive, and I took my last breath in endless torment.
Only after death did I learn that the Moonshadow Curse was absolutely bound by the lunar phases.
Its duration was a mere thirteen days.
When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the first day after our bodies were swapped.

I thought my husband was my salvation.
Until I overheard him in the wine cellar, laughing and joking with my "attackers" from that night.
The gang rape that destroyed me was a show he orchestrated himself.

He married me only for inheritance rights.
He humiliated me, branded me, took away my child, and made my life a living hell.
But he forgot one thing—
The ancient blood oath of the Corleone family states clearly:
If a husband betrays his marriage, everything he owns shall belong to his wife.

This time, I'm no longer the rabbit waiting to be slaughtered.
This time, I write the ending.

I was the orphan Hayes Holt pulled from the foster system, the girl he raised for eight years.
In my past life, I drowned in his suffocating tenderness, mistaking his guardianship for love. When he brought Josie Rowe home and announced their engagement, I snapped.
I threw a hysterical fit, screaming my unrequited love until the scandal bled into every gossip rag in New York.
My reward was his cold disgust. Labeled "sick," I was shipped off to a psychiatric ward, where I died strapped to a table, my brain fried by forced ECT.
The very next day, Hayes gave Josie the Manhattan wedding of the century. To the world, I became nothing but a cautionary tale: the delusional slut who tried to seduce her adoptive father.
But fate pulled me back. Back to the exact moment I ruined my life. Back to the fatal question:
"Can't we be more than just father and daughter?"
Across the dining table, the ruthless CEO of Holt Holdings was painstakingly peeling a shrimp for me. At my words, his long fingers froze.
"Excuse me?"
In my past life, I missed the flash of pure disgust in his eyes and just cried, begging for his love.
But now, hearing his icy tone, the phantom stench of my own burning flesh filled my nostrils. A violent shudder ripped through me. Digging my nails into my palms, I forced a flawless smile and pulled my plate away.
"Dad," I said, the word tasting like ash. "Didn't you tell me to grow up? I can peel them myself. I won't bother you anymore."

Fifteen days after my death, Morningstar Town was annihilated.
What destroyed this steel fortress wasn't the tens of thousands of zombies outside, but three insignificant things:
a bottle of whiskey used to bribe the security guards; half a can of wasted beef beans; and, my wife .
The townspeople, finding my "Laws of Survival" too harsh, strangled me to gain "freedom."
So I floated in the sky, watching them tear apart the safety net, watching them boil their neighbors in hunger, watching the very foundations of humanity crumble into dust.
The show began.

Everyone knows how much Gideon Moretti loves his wife Isabella.

We built this empire together—from street enforcers to rulers of all five boroughs of New York. He promised me the world.

I believed him.

For five years, I took bullets for him. Bled for him. Sacrificed everything so he could become the king of this city.

Then, just days before our fifth anniversary—on the same day I found out I was pregnant—I saw a video.

Gideon, in a bridal boutique, his hand on another woman's waist. Helping her choose a wedding dress.

Daisy. His first love.

Turns out, she's been back for two months. Every "business trip" he took? He was with her.

I made my decision that night. I would leave. Take our baby and disappear.

My child would not grow up in a house built on lies.

The day my wife, Hollywood’s newly crowned Best Actress, landed an S-tier deal, she arrogantly tossed a separation agreement in my face.

“I’m moving into Beverly Hills. A salaried office worker like you will only drag down my status. If you can’t come up with a ten-million-dollar mansion, then get out of my life.”

She thought she had latched onto a media tycoon, and eagerly signed the “fake divorce loan” agreement I had tailored just for her.

What she didn’t know was that I wasn’t just the pathetic husband she thought I was. I was also a quantitative strategist from Wall Street, a man who could turn the markets upside down.

That ten million dollars became the seed capital I used to short the tycoon backing her.

When she was ruined at her movie premiere, burdened with crushing debt, and crawled barefoot like a stray dog up to the hillside mansion, begging hysterically for me to remarry her, I was already toasting a successful acquisition with my Wall Street partner.

Then I watched coldly as the security guards threw her into the Los Angeles night like a piece of rotten industrial waste.

I was employee No.001, building his startup with him right from the garage.
Then a subordinate draped in an IvyLeague aura arrived, and he pushed me ruthlessly aside.
Crushed by betrayal, I fled eight hundred miles to Seattle and rebuilt my career at a rival tech giant. When anonymous online smears sought to ruin my reputation, I unmasked every one of her lies.
He fell from his CEO throne. I stepped into my welldeserved spotlight, and I will never be anyone’s second choice.

A billionaire offered me $1.5 million a year to marry him and raise his three kids.

He flew overseas the afternoon we signed.

His youngest told the butler to throw me out. His daughter flipped me off. His oldest smiled and asked what he should call me.

I held up the marriage certificate. "Call me Mom."

Two weeks later, his daughter crouched on her bedroom windowsill and swore she'd jump unless I let her go.

I walked over and planted my foot on her shoulder.

I think I'm dead.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing in an abandoned amusement park, and my body was sitting on that slowly turning carousel.

I was only ten years old. I don't know how I died.

Detective Sarah, the blonde officer, promised to find the truth. So I followed her, watching her peel away layer after layer of lies—

In my diary, I wrote down all my fears and all my waiting.

On the phone, Mom sent that video of me laughing.

In the autopsy report, evidence of long-term abuse filled every page.

Mom had been saving money for three years, saying she'd take me away. That afternoon she picked me up from school and said, "We're really leaving this time."

Then what happened? Why did I die at the amusement park? Why was Mom's first reaction after my death not to call the police, but to—

I thought Mom came to save me.

Until I saw the text message she sent...

My name is Evelyn. I grew up in the slums. Now, I'm the wife of Victor De Luca, head of New York's most feared mafia family.
Outsiders say I left him for money when he had nothing, then shamelessly came crawling back once he rose to power.
Only Victor and I know the truth. He paid five million dollars to drag me back, chain me here like a dog, and lock me away.
He married me, trapped me in this estate, and found new ways to break me every day.
He brought his mistress into our bed. He used his power to grind what was left of my dignity into dust.
But there's one thing he doesn't know.
I'm dying.
I have an inherited bone marrow failure disorder. The same disease that drained my mother dry. Now it's my turn.
Five years ago, I took the money and walked away. I let everyone call me every name they wanted because I couldn't make him watch me waste away.
I'm not afraid of death. I'm afraid of pain.
But it doesn't matter anymore.
This long, slow torture is almost over.

I catch my husband in bed with the live-in housekeeper.

He shoves her behind him. "She's only twenty. Barely out on her own, doesn't know any better. Can't you be the bigger person here?"

His mother points a finger in my face. "You're an orphan. If we hadn't taken you in, you'd still be out on the street begging."

"Be smart about this. Make room for Kaylee, so we can all live under one roof in peace."

They've both forgotten that back then he couldn't even make rent, and I worked three jobs to build his company for him.

Forgotten the year his company was going under, when I ran to three different banks across the city in a downpour chasing investors, passed out in the street, and lost the baby.

Four whole years of them looking down on me after that.

I say I want a divorce.

Preston just laughs at me. "You're a housewife. Walk out that door and you'll starve on the sidewalk by tomorrow."

I drag my suitcase onto the overnight bus and go home to a place I haven't set foot in for ten years.

It's the middle of the night when I get there. The streets are empty. Three men reeking of liquor block my way.

That hand is about to touch my face when a Harley roars up and stops right beside me.

The muscled guy on it has a cigarette in his mouth. He looks me over. "Need a hand?"

At my ex-wife's century wedding engagement banquet, she pointed at my nose and humiliated me publicly: "A waste of space who lays bricks, get out!"
Her wealthy new lover pressed my face hard into broken glass and forcibly dragged away my desperately crying five-year-old daughter.
I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, drew the "Ghost Mark," and dialed the Pentagon hotline that had been dormant for five years.
Three seconds later, twelve Black Hawk helicopters shattered the dome, and a special task force descended from the sky. A two-star general, amid the terrified gazes of the assembled elite, saluted me with a thunderous: "Ghost Commander, troops have arrived as ordered!"
My ex-wife, who had been so arrogant just moments ago, instantly collapsed to the ground.

For three years, I paid so my sister could rebuild her life — her rent, her lawyers, her hospital bills, the shop she now runs in my name. Lucas, my fiance, always told me it was the right thing to do. I believed him, because believing him was easier than admitting how tired I was. I flew home two days early to surprise him. Instead, I opened my own front door and found my sister in his lap, wearing my robe, laughing in a voice I'd paid to keep happy for years. Ninety-nine empty perfume bottles stood along the wall — quiet witnesses to nights I never knew existed. Lucas didn't apologize. He asked me to be more understanding. My sister cried and called me cruel. I stood in the apartment I bought, surrounded by the people I built a home for, and realized I had never once been the one who got to be loved first.

"Mom, I don't need a baby brother or sister. I already have a sister."
I happily pulled out a pair of baby shoes, only for my seven-year-old son to violently snatch them and slam them into the trash can.
It was in that exact moment I discovered that the Alpha leader I had deeply loved for eight years had built a lavish underground mansion long ago—housing his mistress and secret daughter!
And my "obedient" son had been joining his father there every single month, playing happy family with them!
When the shock caused me to hemorrhage, leaving me lying alone on a freezing operating table undergoing a miscarriage, my husband was off comforting his mistress and illegitimate daughter.
In that instant, my love shattered completely. I relinquished custody of my son, left a signed divorce agreement, and walked away without looking back.

Minutes before the Stanford Hackathon began, my childhood friend decided to bail to help his girlfriend shoot a TikTok video.

I was just about to stop him when his inner voice suddenly exploded in my head: 'I actually got reborn?'

'Last time, I listened to Maeve and stayed for the competition, securing my spot at Stanford. But Sloane went to Malibu alone to shoot her video and fell off a cliff!"

'Even though I pushed Maeve off a roof to avenge her, I still lost the love of my life.'

'This time, I'm not losing Sloane. If Maeve dares to stop me again, I'll make her pay with her life all over again!'

My blood ran cold, and the words of persuasion died in my throat.

If he wanted his tragic romance so badly, he could have it.

In my past life, my Mafia Don husband left me and our unborn baby to burn just to save my half-sister.

Reborn, I watched him crush my fingers in a door to protect her once again.

"Hurt her, and we get a divorce," he sneered.

He thought the threat would break me. He didn't know his signature was already on the divorce papers hidden in my bag.

On the day of their lavish wedding, I took the hand of his deadliest rival, looked down from a helicopter, and pressed the detonator to his estate.

I'd been out of Coldwater for two weeks when my family asked me to go back behind silver.

"It's three nights," Mom said. "You did three years. Three nights won't kill you."

They had no idea it would. I'm dying. The only thing still holding my body together is my mate bond, and three nights away from Silas is all it will take.

For three years in Coldwater, a parcel came for me every month. A blanket, a sweater—something that smelled like home. I slept wrapped in them every night, sure it meant my family hadn't given up on me.

It was my twin sister who sent them.

I didn't know what she'd soaked them in.

In my past life, I kindly took in my girlfriend and brother, only to be pushed into a torrent of acid rain and melted alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back a month before the apocalypse, only to find that my girlfriend had also been reborn! She was secretly plotting on the balcony to drain my assets to build her and her best male friend's post-apocalyptic love nest? I scoffed, decisively sold all my possessions, and bought a private island in the Pacific to build a top-tier fortress. When the mutated red rain descended and zombies swept the globe, I sipped iced whiskey in a temperature-controlled greenhouse, quietly watching that despicable couple starve and die in their Los Angeles penthouse, tearing each other apart like wild dogs for survival…

I died on the night of my eighteenth graduation party, pushed off a rooftop by the two people I trusted most.

In my past life, I was the ultimate fool.

When my two childhood friends—both heirs to top elite families—decided to throw away their futures, I panicked.

They actually wanted to reject their admission offers from Harvard and Yale.

All to follow Lily, a charity case from the slums, to a literal no-name trade school called Sunny Valley Vocational Academy.

I begged them to stop.

I even used my family's connections to try and get Lily into a legitimate university.

But Lily wept in front of them, claiming my money insulted her dignity, and that I was just jealous of their "pure love."

Liam and Noah completely lost their minds.

That night, they cornered me on the roof.

"Vivian, you killed Lily. Go to hell!"

As it turned out, Lily went to that trash school alone and committed suicide.

They blamed me entirely for her death, nursing that grudge until they finally pushed me into the abyss.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day we were supposed to lock in our college choices.

This time, count me out.

I had the gift of beast-speech, and beasts never lied to me.
When my sister, Valora, brought me a wild berry tart, a forest finch shrieked, "Poison!" In my past life, I believed it. I flipped the tray, cursed her, and was thrown into the dungeon like a madwoman. In this life, I did the opposite. I ate it. I vomited blood, and my spirit wolf died instantly.
When it was time to marry, a raven warned me that my Alpha fiancé was a "disfigured madman." In my past life, I broke the engagement and married a Beta, only to be tortured to death by him and his mistress. In this life, I insisted on marrying the Alpha. But on my wedding night, a blood-soaked, disfigured monster was waiting for me.
When my mother-in-law, Liora, coughed up blood in front of everyone, a nightingale cried, "Give her White Dittany for the poison!" In my past life, I force-fed her the herb, and she bled from her eyes and died. In this life, I stopped anyone from giving her the herb. But that night, she died anyway.
Listen to them, and I die. Ignore them, and I still die.
Then, I opened my eyes. I had been reborn, back to the exact moment everything went wrong...

My pre-wedding party was in full swing.

 

Yet, the center of attention wasn't me, but Julian's childhood sweetheart, Blair. She had just announced she was auctioning off her "first kiss."

 

My fiancé, Julian, bought that kiss without a second thought.

 

Amidst the roaring cheers of the crowd, they locked lips. They looked like the perfect match, made in heaven.

 

In that moment, I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene.

 

I casually pulled out my phone and replied to the email from the Paris headquarters: "I accept. I am ready to start immediately."

I made Sebastian Grant date me for a year because I'd saved his life.
Even though he couldn't stand me, I pressed myself against him when he tried to leave, traced my fingers down his chest when he turned away.
When his friends talked trash, I left marks on his neck and sent him out where everyone could see them.
Then an anonymous text arrived: [I'm the one you saved that day. Not Sebastian.]
The photo attached turned my face white.
What would Sebastian do when he found out?

Six days after Alexander lost all contact, I navigated my way alone to the Nightfall Gala to find him.

The guard's expression twisted into something peculiar when he heard my purpose.

"You're saying you are looking for your mate, Prince Alexander? And what is your name?"

"I am Cecilia."

The guard let out a harsh, mocking snort. "Stop causing a scene! A blind beggar trying to pull a scam? Don't think you can just impersonate her just because you know the name of the Prince's mate."

"Everyone knows the Prince just gifted Cecilia the millennia-old Abyssal Night Crystal to celebrate her pregnancy! What the hell are you?"

Just then, the giant LED screen cut to the Gala's live broadcast.

"Allow me to formally introduce my partner, Cecilia. Furthermore, she is expecting. Our family is about to welcome a new heir." It was Alexander's voice.

"Thank you all. This is the greatest gift Alexander and I could ever receive."

The moment that sweet, timid voice echoed through the hall, a string violently snapped in my brain. A sharp ringing pierced my eardrums.

—It was the voice of my twin sister, Elena.

"Only one life jacket left!" a crewman shouted as the cruise ship sank.
My husband, Captain Harrison, looked torn between me—his pregnant wife—and Emma, his first love.
Last time, he gave me the jacket, intending to die with Emma. But he survived, and she drowned. To avenge her, he smothered our newborn. "You stole her life," he snarled. I killed him for my baby, bleeding out beside him.
Waking to the deafening sirens, I realize I’ve been reborn. This time, who will get that final life jacket?

My ex-boyfriend wrote a hit song about me. He told the whole world I dumped him for being poor, painting me as the heartless ex who took nothing but his dog when I left.
I let him believe it. It was easier for him to hate me than to watch me decay.
A year later, he was on national television, his arm wrapped around a beautiful new starlet. When the host brought up our sudden breakup, Evan laughed coldly.
"I'd pay to see her face right now," he told the audience. "As long as she's living a pathetic life, I can finally move on."
The host didn't laugh. Instead, he stared at Evan with a heavy gaze.
"She hasn't been living a pathetic life, Evan. Actually, she sent us these recordings... before she died."

My husband's mistress sent me a video to rub it in, claiming she had just beaten my "pathetic, begging mother" bloody and kicked her down the stairs.
I froze, glancing up at my actual mother sitting right across from me, quietly sipping her coffee.
Bewildered, I zoomed in on the video.
When I made out the scar on the wrist of the woman lying in the pool of blood, a cold sweat broke out over my body. I frantically called my husband.
But he interrupted my plea with extreme impatience: "Shut up! Roxy was right to teach her a lesson. She was just taking out the trash for me!"
Since he insisted on indulging his precious mistress's death wish...
I wonder if he'll still be able to say she was right to teach her a lesson when he sees his own grandmother's corpse.

I used to believe my husband was my hero. When Julian Miller’s empire was falling apart, I made a desperate choice to save him. I spent a night in the suite of his fiercest competitor, Arthur Vance. Julian called me his hero and said he trusted me.

But he was lying to me for five long years.

Everything changed in an instant. Watching our daughter hang from a broken roller coaster, Julian didn’t attempt to save her. Instead, he reached for his phone to call his mistress.

To him, she wasn’t a child in peril; she was just a chance to wipe out a 'mistake' and start fresh with someone who had been in our lives since the very beginning of our marriage.

Now, people see me as a heartbroken mother and an ashamed wife. Julian thinks he’s buried me under his web of lies and his influence. But he overlooked one crucial point: I have nothing more to lose, and I'm ready to settle a score.

With the one man Julian fears most by my side, I’m stepping back into the light. And by the time I’m through, he’ll understand that the woman he treated like a pawn is the very one who will bring his whole world crashing down.

For two years I was Easton's secret girlfriend. I paid his tuition. I took a beating from the guys who came for him. I gave up my MIT interview so he could chase what he wanted.
Then I heard him behind a half-open door, kissing my best friend.
"Last life she clung to me like a lunatic. This life I'm not making that mistake again."
Last life. They'd both been reborn—come back with every memory of a life I don't even remember living—and somewhere in it, they'd decided I was the desperate girl who ruined everything.
Fine.
I went back to my desk, pulled the MIT acceptance I'd been about to turn down, and signed it.
Easton, I'll let you have her.
He spent two lifetimes sure he was the smart one. He's about to find out which of us was holding back.

To fulfill my twin sister Chloe’s arranged marriage, I became Landon Moore’s stand-in bride.
For three years, I played the role of the gentle, obedient wife—cooking soup to warm his stomach, sharing his bed on lonely nights, and even taking care of his beloved ‘sister’, Shannon. When he was drunk and stumbled into my room, I endured it all in silence.
Everyone mocked me for being pathetic, a dog begging for scraps of affection. Even Landon sneered coldly, “I will never love you.”
Until the day he stabbed me three times—for Shannon. The world blurred into a sea of blood. I smiled as I closed my eyes, took the fifty million he transferred to me, and vanished without a trace.
Years later, he found me deep in the mountains, kneeling in the mud like a madman, begging me to come home. But by then, I had built schools, with my grandmother, lived a life that glowed with its own light.

On the third anniversary of our bond, I pushed open the private room door, my heart full of hope—only to see Chisel on one knee, leaning in to kiss Sylvia. In that instant, every thread of love and trust inside me snapped.
“What are you doing?” My voice trembled; tears blurred my vision.
Chisel looked up at me, eyes full of irritation. “Enough, Leah. Stop putting on that wounded look. We were just playing a game. I lost, that’s all. Why are you angry?”
I could no longer bear the betrayal. After losing our pup, something inside me died completely. I decided to break the mate bond, to end this painful, scarred union once and for all.
Even as Chisel kept apologizing, swearing he would change, I no longer believed him. My voice went cold:
“Even if I forgive you, our pup never will.”
I left the home that had once been full of love and hope, flying toward a new world that would be mine alone.

I was reborn on the very night George White—Don of the White family—was drugged and lost his mind to pure, animal lust.
This time, I didn't offer myself as the cure.
Instead, I gave him the woman he truly wanted. My sister.

In my past life, I fell in love with the Don of the White family. George.
When I learned he'd been drugged—stripped of every shred of reason—I made the choice I could never take back.
I didn't push him away. A month later, I was pregnant.
The family council forced him to marry me. For the heir. For the name. For everything except love.
On the morning of our wedding, my sister Leah couldn't bear it. She fled the estate alone.
That night, a rival family's killers found her.
Before she died, she called George ninety-nine times.
But George was at my wedding. The wedding I had begged for. So he never answered. Not once.

My family let me die. My fiancé watched. My sister smiled.
I was the real daughter, dragged from the orphanage to donate my bone marrow, then thrown away like garbage. When the monsters came for the imposter, they shielded her and left me to rot.
But death wasn’t the end. It was a deal.
I woke with a system tethered to my pulse—one that trades public admiration for the power to survive.​ And behind these hands are two identities they never suspected: the legend whose music they worship, and the ghost in the machine who owns their secrets.
They think I’m back to beg for love.
They’re wrong. I’m here to collect.
This time, I won’t just take back my music and my name. I’ll make them need me—right before I watch them lose everything.
They wanted me erased.
I’m about to become the only name that matters.

In their eyes, my wife Emma—an Ivy League tenured professor in biological sciences—is ruthless, rational, and obsessively clean.
For seven years, even when she washed her hands, she would only ever touch the right-side sink—hers.
Until that night at 3 a.m., when I pulled a strand of sandy-golden short curl—hair that belonged to neither of us—out of my men’s shower loofah.
And around the neck of a pre-med student named Lucas, I saw the antique silver cross my dying father left in my hands.
When I confronted her, my always-icy wife protected the little homewrecker, slapped me across the face, and called me a jealous, controlling chauvinist.
She thought I’d swallow it like a coward.
But she forgot: as a top cardiothoracic chief, the thing I do best is cutting out tumors.

Haven Center for Omegas. A place where Omegas can be protected until they reach full maturity and move on to find the perfect pack.

Well, that's what they promised me. When I lost my parents at fourteen I was sent to Haven and promised the world. When my time came though, the pack I chose drugged and sold me. I woke inside a cage alongside rows of other Omegas. There I waited for two years until my number finally came up. I'm going up for auction tonight...

That is until my guard stumbles in drunk and I see my chance to escape. I'm too weak though and when he catches me and promises to keep me for himself I think my chance at freedom is gone. Then four Alphas storm in and save me, but my problems are far from over.

I'm too dangerous to keep alive, but I can't trust the one place in this country meant to protect me. Plus, these Alphas are not at all the sort of pack I would consider trusting or choosing for a lifetime. They are violent and rough. Yet, they promise to help and protect me until I get justice and I intend to take them up on their offer. The one request I have...I want them to teach me to be as bad as them. I want to be someone the people who screwed me over will fear.

Hell hath no fury than an Omega wronged...or something like that.

My name is Elise, and I'm about to get my unhappily ever after.

(This story takes place in the same universe as The Sweetest Sound and the two books are now combined as "Omegas of Haven" for better viewing:D )

Our world has been taken over by the supernatural. As a way for mankind to become the most powerful they have screwed with nature turning them into some of the most deadly creatures to walk this land.

Now they have discovered a secret my kind has been trying to keep for thousands of years. Vampire blood contains the power of super healing and immense strength. There is a race to see who will crack the code to incorporate this power for their own gain.

So many of my kind were taken and I am no different. Except this time they tried something new. Something that seems to have turned me into a monster of a new kind.

More like an abomination.

I'm found by a group of men at the place where I should have died. They don't know why they were called to me and now I have a few tag-alongs on my journey to get answers.

This should be a breeze....

Megan has the perfect teenage life: a parent who is proud of her, a boyfriend who loves her, friends who support her and good grades. Everything is perfect. Or so it seems. She has a secret that started the day her mother died two years ago. Make-up and smiles can only hide so much.

The new teacher at her school has everyone talking. The girls flirt endlessly with him. The only one who doesn’t care for him is Megan. He asks too many questions and is in her way at every moment. All Megan wants to do is get through the last year of high school so she can leave for college ASAP.

Things change when forbidden emotions come into play that could cause their demise.


"We should stop," he says.
"Why?" she asks. He sighs and moves his hand through her hair asking himself the same question.
"Because what I'm doing right now is wrong; you’re my student," he pauses as it doesn’t feel wrong. "Plus, it's raining," he states.
"It's not wrong," she states. “It feels very right to me." His eyebrows rise, surprised by what she is saying. "And doing this in the rain makes it seem so much hotter," she says with a slight smirk.
He chuckles and looks up at the night sky, "I guess it does," he says now, looking at her, "but I think it's just because it's with you that it feels hotter."
"Ditto," she says, smiling, and leans in to kiss him.

“F*ck I love how wet you get,” he groans as he moves his fingers to my sex. I moan as his fingers enters me. I close my eyes as a shiver runs down my body.

“Logan,” I moan as I feel his mouth on me. I look down and watch him kiss up my thigh to my sex. His tongue licks over my clit to my entrance and back. Tilting my head back, I move my hand through his hair as his sinful mouth works wonders on my body.

Logan has fallen in love with Megan, but can Megan love him back.

With Megan's dad now caught can Megan rebuild her life or will secrets from her mothers past threaten to destroy her?

Can Logan help Megan overcome her fears or will his own secrets get in between them?

Read the second instalment of the Megan series.

🔞⚠️ I gave my virginity to a stranger to escape getting married to my enemy, turns out he's the stranger.
“I have to give it to you, Sancia; you're a good liar. For a while, I almost believed you,” he drawled, his finger still buried in my throbbing core. He inches back and stares me in the eyes again.

His eyes hooded with that familiar possessive glint. “Now that we've cleared all doubt out of the way. Your pussy best remains this way until I take what was rightfully mine, or else.” He grinned darkly and slowly withdrew his finger....


To escape an arranged marriage with a man she hates and fears–Lorenzo Marchetti! A rival Capo! A man with a frightening reputation and nicknamed Diavolo (devil). Sancia is willing to go to any length to stop this wedding, even if it means giving away her most prized possession in the eyes of Famiglia to a stranger.

Her virginity! The Vicenzo Famiglia are traditionalists who still uphold the bloody sheets tradition, which, to them, symbolizes honor and purity. Any bride found without the sign of virginity is considered dishonored, punished, and banished from the famiglia. To Sancia that is nothing compares to her dreams and future.

To Lorenzo, Sancia's defiance only feeds his obsession. When he finds out that she was planning to give something he considers his to a stranger, Lorenzo takes his place and takes her virginity for himself.

What will Sancia do when she realizes not only did lorenzo ruins her plans, but he’s also the stranger she gave her virginity to? As hatred burns into something far more dangerous, and passion blurs the line between love and possession. Will the flame of desire end a century-old feud between two rival famiglia? Or destroy them both?