1248 Book(s) Related to can t win me back

When the zombie apocalypse hit, my elder brother shoved me into a horde of the undead. Now, I've been reborn exactly five days before the end of the world, and he's trying to scam me out of my winning lottery ticket with a beat-up old ring. What he doesn't know is that this ring is a genuine pocket dimension artifact. He thinks he's pulling the ultimate con, completely unaware that I'm going to use this very relic to forge my own post-apocalyptic empire. This time, I'm going to make them pay back every last thing they owe me.

In high school, my ex only dated me because she needed a dependable errand boy.

I believed it. I tutored her, fixed her grades, rewrote her papers, and cleaned up every mess she made.

Then I overheard her telling her friend, “He’s good at studying. That’s it. Dating him is already me being generous.”

At graduation, she dumped me without hesitation.

Years later, I became the CEO of a public company.

Her company was collapsing—cooked numbers, broken cash flow, investors pulling out—and she needed one deal to survive.

She didn’t know who I was.

She scraped my car in the garage, then warned me not to cling to her, saying the CEO she came to meet was way out of my league.

Then the boardroom door opened. She looked up and saw me in the seat at the head of the table.

She thought I’d use this to get revenge.

I didn’t. I just opened her file and said, “You may begin.”

The second the graduation ceremony ended, my parents took us all to the nicest restaurant in town.

They said they wanted to properly celebrate having "two graduates" in the family.

Pierce, my boyfriend of four years, showed up last with a huge bouquet of champagne roses in his arms.

I'd just gotten up from my chair when he walked right past me and handed the whole bouquet to my friend Brooke. "Happy graduation. No crying, okay?"

My mom was all smiles, going on about how thoughtful Pierce always was.

Then he caught my eye and hesitated. He tugged one rose free from the bunch and held it out to me. "You're not really into this kind of thing anyway, right?"

So that was my graduation gift from my boyfriend. One stem he'd pulled out of another girl's bouquet without a second thought.

Once we sat down, the conversation quickly turned to jobs.

Brooke looked miserable as she told us she hadn't heard back from a single place she'd applied to.

Pierce put down his fork and knife right away. "Come work at my family's hotel. Pick any job you want. I've got you."

My brother leaned in too. "My company's hiring right now. I can refer you. It's literally one phone call."

My dad gave her a sympathetic look. "Don't stress. You're so talented, good companies are going to be fighting over you."

The three of them crowded around her with ideas, each one trying harder than the last.

I'd just graduated too, but when it came to me, my dad barely gave it a thought. "Clara can just grab whatever job she can get. It's not like she can afford to be picky."

My mom nodded. "If anybody's willing to take you, just be grateful."

I stuck the rose in the water glass in front of me. The stem was too long and the glass was too shallow, so it slumped against the rim. No matter how I set it, it wouldn't stay up.

Just like me in this family. However hard I tried, I could never find my footing. Whether I was there or not, it made no difference to anyone.

Fine. Then I'd leave.

I'd go somewhere as far away from them as I could get, and this time I wasn't coming back.

I found my husband's vasectomy certificate while sorting medical bills. The procedure was done a year ago. But I was six months pregnant now.

I stared at the date on the paper and my hand just... stopped. I kept checking it again and again, but it was still the same. I was freaking out. I looked down at my bump showing through this baggy sweater, and my hands started shaking.

I got in my car and drove straight to my husband's private club. I needed answers about this, now.

My father wanted to hand me over to Adrian Kingsley, the heir everyone in his Manhattan circle was desperate to please. I ran away with my boyfriend instead.
Then my boyfriend was injured in a hit-and-run. We had no money, and Adrian came to our rescue.
We were grateful. So when my father was diagnosed with a serious illness, I worked up the courage to ask Adrian for help again.
He took a drag on his cigarette and watched me through the smoke.
"Spend the night with me."

After one night with the man I'd secretly loved, I told him how I felt.
His response was simple. "What made you think sleeping with me would make me want you?"
I didn't say another word. I just walked out.
I changed my number, moved to another city, and cut him out of my life completely.
Then my roommate, Vanessa, was hospitalized with a high fever.
Her boyfriend drove through the night to see her — the kind of man who could afford to just drop everything.
When he walked into the hospital room, I froze.
It was Adrian Cole.
The man I had spent two years trying to forget.
Except he looked at me without recognition.
"Thanks for taking care of her," he said. "Let me add you. I'll send you whatever you spent."
He had no idea who I was.
And somehow, that hurt more than his rejection ever had.

As a wolf princess, I gave up my beast core, my dignity, and three years of life for my mate’s throne. I walked willingly into the lion clan’s darkest kennel camp, enduring beastly torture and dog-like degradation. I survived on rot and poison, clinging to false hope. Until I returned and learned the bitter truth: my wolf mate destroyed me with his own hands. The war was fake, and my hell was his deliberate choice.

The best deal I ever made in my life was selling my blood to a vampire.

I was a broke, permanently starving werewolf who needed ten times the food a normal person did just to feel full.

Evan was a vampire heir with a blood allergy, the kind where the smell alone made him sick and dizzy. Somehow his life was worse than mine.

Except my blood didn't trigger it. He never reacted to me.

So he pulled out his card. "I'll keep you fed. You let me feed off you."

This wasn't a vampire. This was a walking meal ticket.

For the next three years, he was the perfect meal buddy. Five meals a day, and he never once complained. Once I finished and let out a satisfied burp, it was his turn, just a small sip, nothing more.

Then, the year we graduated, he got a call from his family. He had to fly back to Europe that same night.

Before he left, I figured I'd thank him for three years of generosity. I pulled my collar aside.

"Go ahead, take more this time. Consider it a going-away present."

He hesitated, then leaned in.

But this time, once his teeth were in, he couldn't stop.

By the time he pulled back, horrified at himself, I already had a hand pressed to my neck, and everything went dark.

"Sloane, where there's smoke, there's fire. If you're really clean, why is it only burning you?"
In my last life, when those fabricated hotel records went viral on the company Slack, I scrambled to explain. I cried. I begged.
What I got was a suspension, a blacklist, and a foster mother who died on a hospital bed because I could no longer pay for her meds.
The person who started it all? Walked right over my corpse into a partnership.
Then I opened my eyes—and I was back. Three days before the promotion list dropped.
I stared at the pixelated "explicit screenshot" on my screen, and I didn't cry. Didn't rage.
I just smiled and hit screen record.
This time, I'm not proving I'm clean.
I'm proving they're guilty.

For six years, I sold my body to underground clinics as a human lab rat to cure my son's heart failure and pay off my husband's debts.

Today, my biological brother kicked away the medicine I bought with half my life.

"Lucas was never sick. We faked the medical records to teach you a lesson for upsetting Virginia."

My husband coldly chimed in:

"I never went bankrupt either."

Even the son I bled to birth stabbed my arm, screaming, "A bloody monster like you doesn't deserve to be my mom!"

I finally realized my entire life was a meticulously crafted scam.

With my organs rapidly failing and only ten days left to live, I stepped onto the edge of the balcony.

"You're right," I smiled at my husband and brother, watching the color completely drain from their faces. "Six years of my life isn't enough to apologize to her."

"So I'll pay you with my corpse."

Six hundred years into our marriage, I found out my husband had a son.

I had ended my border patrol three days early, wanting to surprise Valerius.

Not far away, Valerius was channeling his exclusive magic, teaching a boy how to weave the darkness.

"Dad! I did it!" The boy looked up. His bright eyes were a near-perfect reflection of Valerius's.

My mind instantly went blank.

Dad?

A woman walked over.

She draped a small cloak over the boy's shoulders, her hand brushing against Valerius's chest with practiced familiarity. "Valeri, the wind is picking up. He'll catch a cold now that he's sweating."

Valerius naturally wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "My fault."

The image of them huddled together like a picture-perfect family was an ice-tipped needle driven straight into my eyes.

The sharp sting made my breath hitch in my throat.

The man who had sworn before the Senate to love me for all eternity—the man bound to me by a Soul Blood Pact—had already betrayed me!

A sudden, agonizing cramp seized my lower abdomen.

It was an old wound from six centuries ago.

When the Sunfire Curse nearly reduced Valerius to ashes, I had offered my high-born pure blood and my womb as a sacrifice to forcibly block the hex for him.

The price was permanent infertility, along with an excruciating backlash of pain I had to endure every single month.

Back then, Valerius had held me, his eyes red and tear-filled. "I don't want any children! I would rather lose my seat in the Senate than ever betray you!"

Yet the scene before me crushed those words into fine dust.

I stumbled backward, my chest feeling as though it had been ripped open by bare hands.

I was terrified I'd lose control and rush over to scream at him.

Worse yet, in the face of this cozy, happy family of three, I was afraid I'd look like a pathetic, unwanted outsider.

Suffocation gripped my throat. I turned and fled.

As the tyrant ruling the underworld, Victor was ruthless and bloodthirsty, showing no mercy to anyone.

Women who tried to climb into his bed usually didn’t even get a whole corpse, yet I was the only one he kept by his side.

I’d taken a poisoned bullet for him, and nearly bled to death on the rotting floor of a safe house giving birth to his son.

He once kissed the bullet scar on my shoulder and promised me that when he sat on the godfather’s throne, I would be his only family matriarch.

But the moment he slipped on that black onyx ring symbolizing power, he carried another woman into the master bedroom of the manor.

I burst for the door, and he ordered his bodyguards to pin me outside, forcing me to listen to their sounds of passion all night long.

I banged on the door like a madwoman, so he slammed my paintbrush-wielding right hand in the heavy oak doorframe and crushed it mercilessly.

I finally caved when he threatened to cut off my mother’s hospital treatment.

My husband's first love was in trouble.
When the news came, I was lying on the operating table.
Dr. Miller put down his scalpel and said to Dr. Johnson, "I'll leave my wife's surgery to you."

"If I don’t go now, I might regret it for the rest of my life."

With that, he turned and walked away.
Watching my husband's retreating figure, I couldn't hold back—tears fell.
The next second, the cold blade of a scalpel touched my skin.

Dr. Johnson spoke calmly, "Why the tears? With me here, you'll be fine."

The moment I gave up wasn't when I found out my husband was cheating. It was when I heard my ten-year-old daughter laugh into the phone and say, "Mom's so clueless. She has no idea about Dad and Summer."

Ten years ago, I was a top biomedical researcher, making six figures. I gave it all up for his promotion and our newborn daughter. Ten years later, the perfect marriage I traded my career and youth for turned out to be nothing but an elaborate lie.

He called me his safe haven, then got in our bed with his mistress and discussed how to keep me in the dark.

This time, I'm not going to cry or make a scene. I'm going to quietly gather my evidence and call the lab director I've turned down seven times.

My fiancée's father called me a stray dog, worse than trash.
My rival forced me to crawl between his legs and trampled me into the mud.
They all thought I was just a piece of trash to be trampled on at will.
But they didn't know that I endured humiliation and hardship for a shocking secret order.

When he found out I’d injured my leg and couldn't scrub in to deliver the billionaire's baby tomorrow, my boyfriend’s first reaction wasn't concern. He gritted his teeth and snapped, "Hannah, you did this on purpose, didn't you? Why today of all days? Are you really throwing away your entire career just to spite me?!"
I didn't argue. I just stared at the medical chart labeled Eleanor Whitlock, my fingers trembling.
In my past life, I took this assignment. I was drugged and locked in a supply closet. A few hours later, the mother and baby were dead—and the security footage showed a nurse with my face poisoning them. I died in a damp prison cell, branded a murderer.
Reborn into this life, I just wanted to escape this fatal trap.
But somehow, the security cameras had once again captured "me" walking into that delivery room.

In the seventh year of being a stay-at-home husband, I discovered the son I cherished as the most precious treasure in my life was actually the illegitimate child of my wife and her male best friend.
To conceal the scandal of her infidelity, my CEO wife, worth millions, joined forces with her male best friend in a grand deception. They single-handedly destroyed my artistic career, transforming me into a free nanny raising their illegitimate child.
Upon learning the truth, I didn't lose my composure.
I calmly presented the divorce papers and the paternity test report proving no biological relation, then turned and walked away without looking back.
Later, that ever-lofty wife, the one who had once publicly doused me with ice water for her male best friend, was utterly consumed by regret and fury.
She kicked the scoundrel to the curb. In front of a crowd, she pressed a switchblade to her own throat, casting aside all dignity to kneel on the ground, crying and begging me to look at her just once more.
I didn't even blink. My voice was as cold as ice. "If you want to die, do it outside. Don't ruin my mood for coffee."

When Carol Bennett caught her long-time boyfriend cheating, she didn't cry or beg. Instead, she exposed the scandal online, turning him into a viral disgrace overnight. Then, without looking back, she agreed to a marriage of convenience with Ethan Mitchell, a powerful billionaire suffering from a terminal illness—her estranged father's carefully arranged match.
On their wedding night, Ethan handed her a cold-hearted prenup and warned her not to expect love, money, or a future. Fine by Carol. She played her role perfectly, calling him "husband" with a sweet smile while keeping her heart locked away.
But the aloof CEO who once wanted nothing to do with her is now the one chasing her. One kiss, one glance, and suddenly he's breaking his own rules.
"Carol, kiss me."
She smirks, her fingers trailing along his collarbone. "Falling for me already, Mr. CEO? Looks like you're the one breaking the contract."
Who would've thought the dying billionaire would end up begging for a second chance?

“You’re dripping,” he groaned. “You hear that? You’re making a mess all over me.”


He's the school's willful billionaire bad boy— hot, tall, handsome who made her fall and loosen herself for him just to find out it was all a lie.

A bet.

Well, two can dance a tango, right?

A comeback is all she needs. One that would make the so-called dangerous bad boy fall to his knees.

It wasn't just a game to him.

What if there's something more…

A facade he's hiding behind?

WARNING: Contains strong vulgar languages, sexual scenes, erotic contents, triggering situations, and lots more.

Everything she believed in was a lie.
Keira and Alden were Chosen Mates who built the powerful Stormfang Pack together—until she discovered their Mate Bond was a witch's illusion, and the child she raised was actually his with his true Fated Mate, the Omega Rena.
Broken and ready to leave, a secret letter reveals she is the long-lost daughter of Mooncrest Pack's Alpha, the sole heir to a legacy she never knew.
As her dormant Alpha blood awakens in rage, she vows to reclaim her birthright.
But when Kaelan, the cold and calculating Alpha King, approaches her and claims, "You are my Fated Mate," Keira is thrown into deeper confusion.
Why would he say that? And in a world built on deception, can a bond that begins as strategy ever become real… or is it just another layer of the game?

Isla Spencer stopped believing in home after her mother died.
Living in a house where her father adored another daughter more, she learned to make herself small, quiet, forgettable—until the day fate gave her something of her own.
Coel Reese, her mate, and a future she could finally belong to.
She loved him. When a rogue attack left him in a coma, she gave everything to keep his bloodline alive, only to end up catching him cheating with her stepsister.
And the child growing inside her? Not his.
A clinic error had implanted her with the sperm of Logan Vale—the most powerful, most feared Alpha in the territory.
One mistake. One contract marriage. One man who now owns her future.
Logan Vale wanted his heir, while Isla wanted a chance to build her own life.
When Cole and her family tried to destroy her again, she was no longer the old Isla Spencer.
She is a Genius doctor with a formula that could change everything.
And now, everyone who ever underestimated her will regret it.
Including that untouchable Alpha.

After being reborn, the first thing my sister and I did was swap our grooms.
In our past life, my gentle sister Elara married Felix Hawthorne, the mafia godfather of Marconi City. Surrounded by a domineering sister-in-law and a scheming, manipulative other woman, she was slowly driven into a corner and died of a broken heart.
Meanwhile, I married the polite, illegitimate son of the Graves family. He was a perfect gentleman, but he just didn't love me. Our marriage lasted three years, and we were separated for two and a half of them.
Then one day, Elara and I woke up at the exact same moment—we had been reborn, back to the very morning we were supposed to sign our marriage agreements...

The day I died in a foreign country, my boyfriend was in the spotlight with another woman.

He's the man I built from nothing. Five years ago, I saved a broke orphan fresh out of college from the gutter. He said he wanted to be famous, wanted to make it to the top of the hockey world. In exchange, he became my boyfriend for five years.

I gave him the best coaching staff money could buy. Bought an entire hockey franchise and made him the centerpiece. Called in every favor I had to make him MVP.

But while he enjoyed everything I gave him, he refused to make our relationship public. Said it would "hurt his brand." He could make headlines with reporters and models, but nobody could know I existed.

He even said on national TV: "Those owners who just throw money around are pretty boring. Hockey is about skill, not money."

So why did he lose his mind when he found out I was dead?

They told me the baby was gone, but they didn't tell me my heart was being carved out, too.

I woke up on the operating table, paralyzed. Through my blurred vision, I saw my beloved husband, Marco, trembling with excitement as he held my medical chart.

"Her blood is perfect," he whispered. "It is a perfect match for Isabella. We can proceed with the transplant now."

"Finally. It wasn't in vain that I brought her back." My revered father let out a sigh of relief. "If it weren't for this day, how would someone who wandered outside for so many years be qualified to step into this house again?"

When my husband said "I love you," he actually meant "Your heart is perfect for the woman I truly love."

I couldn't scream; I couldn't move.

I could only watch helplessly as the silver scalpel pierced toward my chest, while my sister, Isabella, lay on the operating table next to me, smiling in her sleep.

I was never a long-lost daughter, nor was I a beloved wife.

I was just a mobile blood bank waiting to be slaughtered.

The car crash six months ago destroyed my body. I survive the agony only through the painkillers prescribed by my brother, Fletcher.
While shopping for my wedding dress, I simply swallowed a pill on schedule. My mother responded with a slap that made me spit blood. My father stormed in and kicked my ribs in without asking a single question.
I fled crying to my brother, only for him to grab me in disgust: "You are a disgrace to this family."
I called my fiancé. He rushed to the scene, took one look at the pill, and called the cops without hesitation: "The engagement is off. She makes me sick."
In just a few hours, I went from a bride-to-be to a death row inmate.
But as the gavel fell, I saw our family maid calmly swallow the exact same pill from the gallery…
I lunged at the railing, screaming at the judge. He leaned down, a chilling smile spreading across his face: "Linnea, this is all because…"

Forty-eight hours before my wedding, I was kidnapped and gang-raped, surviving by only a thread in the depths of despair.   When my mafia boss fiancé and my police detective best friend stood guard by my hospital bed with bloodshot eyes, I heard him suddenly switch to Navajo and ask her, "The death row inmates from the dark web—were they dealt with cleanly?"   My best friend chuckled, replying in the same language. "Don't worry. The guys who put their hands on Maya have been wiped out. Dead men tell no tales."   "Sacrificing Maya alone gave you the perfect excuse to wipe out the rival family and swallow the southern smuggling network, while earning me a high-level promotion. It was a damn good deal."   Amidst tearing, agonizing pain, it felt as if I had been plunged into an ice cliff.   They thought I could never understand this obscure tribal language, so they brazenly feasted on the spoils of victory built upon my very flesh and blood. But what they didn't know was that, to surprise my fiancé during our wedding vows... I had been secretly studying Navajo for an entire year.

Fresh off the operating table after barely surviving a miscarriage, I received a $50,000 bill—every cent spent on a waterbed and aphrodisiac aromatherapy on a yacht.
 
I called my husband, the only other person who knew about that account.

Over the phone, he sounded gentle yet aggrieved: "Honey, how could I afford a luxury yacht? It must be a banking error. You just lost our baby; please rest well. My flight to New York is taking off soon, and I'll be right by your side the moment I get back!"
 
I didn't expose the deafening sounds of the wild party in his background. I simply hung up.
 
He thought his lie was flawless. He had no idea that as the hidden heiress of the Windsor Consortium, that priceless yacht, the Poseidon, was actually a coming-of-age gift from my grandmother.
 
I ripped the IV out of my arm and dialed a number I hadn't called in years since marrying beneath my station.
 
"Grandma, you were right. He doesn't deserve me. I'm going to the ship to catch him red-handed."

I spent seven years being Preston Maddox's personal errand girl.

Did his homework, took his father's belt for him, cut off every friend I had because he said he didn't like me talking to other guys.

I told myself that if I was good enough, patient enough, he'd eventually see me.

Then came the school's centennial gala. In front of everyone, he locked me, a girl with severe aquaphobia, inside a water tank filled to the brim with ice-cold water, so Vanessa Sinclair could have a pretty backdrop for her ballet number.

The audience roared. He watched Vanessa take her bow with this soft, adoring smile on his face. The only time he glanced at me was when he noticed I'd made a mess, and all he did was wrinkle his nose.

The water rose over my head, and something in me finally understood.

To Preston Maddox, I wasn't even worth as much as a dog.

If a dog was drowning, its owner would at least care.

Me? I just disgusted him.

To end two years of a long-distance marriage with my husband, Sutton Brennan, I quit my job and moved halfway across the state to join his top-tier medical center.
But from the moment I clocked in on day one, a nightmare awaited me.
IV pain pumps violently popped open in my hands, medication cabinets rejected my fingerprints, coffee machines sprayed me with boiling water, microwaves exploded in public, and the employee lockers locked me out entirely.
My colleagues laughed at me, calling me a walking disaster. The head nurse publicly berated me for being incompetent. And my husband, the man I trusted most, simply smiled his gentle smile and said, "You're just tense. Give it a few more days."
In my past life, I believed him. I gritted my teeth and held on until the bitter end—and ultimately died inside this very hospital.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my first day of work.

In the delivery room, my husband Ronan fumed that having a male doctor was a disgrace. My mother-in-law Coralie griped about the hospital bill. His sister Ophelia clung to his arm, pinching her nose and mocking the smell of the room.
In my previous life, today was the day the doctor ordered an extra blood test due to my in-laws' history of blood disorders. Two Type-O parents had somehow produced a Type-B daughter.
Coralie pointed at my nose, calling me a whore. Ophelia fueled the fire, sneering, "Just admit it, Sabine." Ronan slapped me off the delivery bed, demanding the name of my "lover."
I died having no way to prove my innocence, losing both my life and my daughter, Sorrel.
It wasn't until moments before my death, when I pushed open the master bedroom door, that I finally understood: the two people tangled naked in my marital bed were my husband and his own sister.
I opened my eyes. I was back to the morning after giving birth to my daughter.

My brother was jealous after I won a $50 million lottery jackpot, so he tricked me into believing an extreme ice-age apocalypse was coming.
Because I trusted him, I spent every last dollar my parents and I had—fortifying the house and stockpiling supplies.
Two weeks later, he told me that there was no coming apocalypse. It had all been a lie.
Just when I was drowning in despair, hail started falling in the middle of summer.
The deep freeze apocalypse had really begun.

My mate, Rhys, brought his dead brother's pregnant widow into our house.
He swore up and down I'd never have to lift a finger for her.
The next morning he stood by the door with a packed bag and a grin.
"Babe. Big news. The pack called me up. Border post out east, two years. I ship out tonight."
He looked at me like he was waiting for me to promise I'd take good care of his brother's widow.
So I pulled my own bag out of the closet, right there in front of him and the woman in the back room.
"Funny. The alliance called me up too. Medic rotation. Two years."
"We can leave together. Lock up on the way out. Colette can rest easy with the whole house to herself."

Alpha Ethan once told me that he wouldn't mark any Omega other than me. I was the Moon Shade Pack's future Luna.
I believed him, until he actually marked someone else—his childhood neighbor.
I confronted him, and he laughed, saying, “It was just a childhood joke, I didn’t think you’d take it seriously.”
But when that so-called "joke" turned into a wedding vow, I realized that from the very beginning, I was the only one who treasured this relationship.
The irony? That night, we had a video call that lasted until 3 AM. He said he was tired, said he missed me.
The next day, I found out from a colleague that he was getting married. The bride? Not me.

I have been tormented by a strange illness for ten years, with blood draws and surgeries being commonplace.
My mother always encouraged me, saying, "Nian Nian, bear with it a little longer. The pain will be over soon. Mom and Dad are doing this to save your life."
Hoping to be cured as soon as possible, I gritted my teeth and endured ten years of painful treatments, even if it meant living like a lab subject.
That was until I accidentally overheard my parents’ cruel conversation:
“Increase the blood draw even more. It doesn’t matter if she dies—she was only picked up to save Ying Ying. As long as she has a breath left, she owes it to us.”
At that moment, I finally understood: I was never sick at all.
The decade of daily treatments were nothing but a way to use me to extend the life of their biological daughter.

In my past life, I threw myself in front of the black panther alpha when his rut drove him into a frenzy—only to have him toss me into a pack of beasts and watch me get torn to pieces.
After being reborn, the first thing I did was rip off the royal crest pinned to my chest and swallow a suppressant, cutting off his control over me for good.
Everyone waited for me to come crawling back and beg for peace.
Instead, I turned and walked straight into the frozen Northlands, where the death rate was eighty percent.
There, through a severed arm, a ruined face, and the thin line between life and death, I awakened as the Platinum Lion King.
He dropped to his knees in the snow, crying and begging for forgiveness.
I only had one question for him: "What makes you think you're anything to me?"

I died the day before my brother Beckett’s state equestrian qualifiers.

Just because Beckett had mistakenly taken sedatives and fallen into a coma, my mother firmly believed that I—a worthless, sickly burden—had deliberately poisoned him out of jealousy to ruin her perfect son's future.

Ignoring my fatal immunodeficiency, knowing that even a microscopic trace of wasp venom would kill me, she dragged me into the abandoned tack room infested with wasp nests and locked the door.

Hundreds of wasps swarmed out. My airway rapidly swelled and closed amidst excruciating pain.

Through the wooden door, I heard my newly awakened brother crying and pleading, along with my mother's cold obstruction and curses.

Leaning against the corner of the wall, I slowly released my bloody, mangled fingers that had been clawing at the door.

In the final moments before my consciousness scattered, I finally stopped struggling.

Mother, if dying in this sunless tack room was your final expectation for me, then... as you wish.

I am the most obedient lover by the side of Liam, the Alpha of the Blackwood Tribe.
I am also the only nameless stray in the entire tribe.
For five years, whenever Liam spent the night with other she-wolves, the next morning I would receive a large check or a deed to a house.
People in the tribe say I am a greedy leech.
That for money, I have thrown away the pride of a werewolf.
Even if Liam kissed another woman right in front of me, I would smile, straighten his collar, and then take the money he gave me.
Yes, I love money very much.
If they knew that this money was enough to buy the territories of three small packs, they would probably be green with envy.
As long as the money is good, betrayal doesn’t hurt that much.
Until today, when Liam brought back a pure-blooded white she-wolf.
He handed me a blank check, saying this would be the last payment he gave me.
My wolf spirit roared inside me.
It’s time for me to take the money, disappear, and return to being the queen I truly am.

"Jacan," a famous idol duo member who hid behind a mask for five years,
was forced to leave the entertainment industry due to an unfair contract.
He disappeared for nearly two years to heal his heart.
As time passed, his identity was buried and forgotten.
However, "the dream of standing on stage again" never faded.
Determined, he decides to return to the dazzling world of lights and fame.
Participating in "Star Fight," an idol survival show to discover a new idol group, becomes his best choice.
This new beginning forces Jacan to go apartment hunting. However, upon arriving at his new accommodation, Jacan discovers that the person showing him the room—and his soon-to-be neighbor—is none other than “Dong Hyunin,” the president of the company behind the idol survival show he is about to join!
Facing traditional norms in the industry,
the prejudices of his fellow competitors,
and discrimination from fans...
… 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…
It's about to begin.
… Action! …

"I hate you," Aïssata spat, her chest heaving with fury as she glared at Koffi. "You think you can just claim me as your own?"

Koffi's dark eyes glinted with a mixture of frustration and something far more dangerous. "I don't want to, but I will. You're the key to everything, whether you like it or not."

In the heart of Silvercrest, where wolves rule and forbidden desires burn, Aïssata Doumbia is a woman torn between the life she's fought to build and the dark, magnetic pull of Koffi Mensah, the powerful Alpha whose presence alone makes her pulse quicken. She knows better than to trust the ruthless leader of the pack, but the chemistry between them is undeniable, impossible to ignore.

As tensions rise between the packs, a deadly prophecy begins to surface—one that ties Aïssata’s fate to Koffi's in ways she never expected. Forced to confront their growing attraction amidst a web of betrayal, power struggles, and deadly secrets, Aïssata must decide: Can she embrace her destiny, or will she risk everything to tear herself free from Koffi’s world?

But when the truth is finally revealed, Aïssata finds herself standing at the edge of a cliff—her heart, her power, and her very life in the hands of the one man she can't stand... and yet, can't resist.

"I’ll do whatever it takes to claim you," Koffi whispered, stepping closer, his breath warm against her ear.

And just as their lips almost touched, a roar echoed in the distance, freezing them both in place. Someone else was coming for her...

They called her too fat to rule.

Too ugly to be loved.

Too weak to be Alpha.

On the day she finally found her fated mate, Velvela Logan believed the Moon Goddess had answered her prayers. Instead, her mate rejected her, drove a sword through her heart, and stole her kingdom.

Left for dead and stripped of her wolf, she is sold as a servant to Bloodcity—the ruthless military academy ruled by the feared Masked Lycan King.

By day, she despises the cold king behind the mask.

By night, she finds herself drawn to the mysterious man who waits beside a hidden river, never realizing they are the same person.

As old enemies return, deadly secrets unravel, and a forgotten Alpha rises once more, one question remains...

Who says fat girls can't be Alpha?

This book is the prequel to A Werelion for Cat.

(Warning this book contains content that may be very sensitive to some readers)

Emma grew up in a world where all she knew was pain and abuse.

She had a mother who loved her but didn't have the confidence or self-esteem to stand up for herself or her daughter.

Emma's stepfather abused his wife and stepdaughter relentlessly, leading to the death of his wife.

Emma's stepbrother Leo didn't receive the same treatment as she and her mother. However, he grew up in a household with a man that treated females as worthless objects.

How will Emma survive the abuse that killed her mother and protect her daughter born from an unplanned pregnancy?

This story shows Emma's life from a young child to early adulthood and the struggles she endured along the way.

"You want to marry me and have my name, Amy?" His breath grazed my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "Then you’ll take everything that comes with it."
My eyes widened slightly. “What do you mean?”
He brought his smiling face directly in front of mine with our noses almost touching.
"You have to take everything," he murmured. "My money, my status and my body."
My breath hitched but I quickly shook my head. No. No, I couldn’t do that.
“I want a strictly contractual marriage. With a time limit,” I said, my voice steady, but my hands clenched into fists.
His lips curled into a smirk. "And a contract marriage is what you’ll get. No feelings. No strings attached. One year.”
I narrowed my eyes, “I won’t sleep with you.” I truly didn’t trust myself around a man like him. If I actually slept with him, what if I developed feelings? There was no way I would let myself fall for another Wellington.
His next words however knocked the air right out of my lungs. "Oh, no, I need you to understand this, sweetheart. There will be no sleeping. Only fucking."


Amy Hart thought she had it all, a fated mate, a future as Luna of Rainwood Pack, and a wedding just two months away. But when she walks in on her mate, Derek with another woman, just hours after her father's funeral, her perfect world shatters.
That same day, her mother ended up in the hospital and needed emergency surgery. Desperate for money to save her dying mother, Amy turns to the one person who can help her: Richard Wellington, Derek's uncle, the ruthless Alpha of Darkwood Pack.
Amy offers herself as his contract wife for one but he insisted on her officially being his Luna and sharing his bed.
In return, he'll save her mother, fund her education, and give her the ultimate revenge, watching Derek grovel after her feet.
But Richard is no savior. He's a patient predator who's been waiting years to claim her. And the contract she's about to sign gives him every access to her.

I still remember the way the air felt when it left my lungs for the last time.

For five years, I was the Quiet Luna of the Blood Moon Pack. I was the wolf-less girl who wasn’t supposed to be there, the one the Omegas mocked and the elders ignored. I thought Nikolai Grey was the kind brother—the safe choice. I loved him through every cold look, and every night he left me alone because I couldn't give him a pup.

I was his wife, but to him, I was just a prophecy to be fulfilled. And when I didn't fit the mold? He didn't just discard me. He ended my life in front of everyone.

But the Moon Goddess gave me a second chance.

I woke up five years ago. The Knight family expects me to marry a Grey. They think I’m going to choose the charming, smiling Nikolai again.

They’re wrong.

I’m done being the victim. If I’m going to survive this life, I don’t need a husband; I need a weapon. I need the brother Nikolai is terrified of. The one they call a monster because he doesn't know how to pretend.

Alexander Grey. He’s ruthless. He’s cold. He’s the Alpha everyone avoids in the hallways. I walked right up to him, ignored the warning growl in his chest, and asked him to marry me.

Nikolai thinks he’s getting a submissive bride. He has no idea that this time, I’m bringing his worst nightmare home to dinner.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked finally.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” I replied, not turning around. “Leaving you.” My hand closed around the door handle.

“Not with my child.”


Married off to him to settle a debt that was never mine, I was nothing more than a contract… a means to an end.

An heir.

That was all Adrian Blackwood ever wanted from me.

Not my love. Not my heart. Not me. But still… I gave it to him anyway.

Year after year, I loved a man who never once looked at me the way I looked at him. And when my time was up, when the contract ended and no child tied me to him, I walked away.

Until fate played its cruel joke.

Because just when I finally left him behind, I found out I was carrying his child.

Now the man who never wanted me… refuses to let me go.

Twenty-one-year-old Adrian Blood had nothing — no parents, no money, he was just a scholarship and a girlfriend he thought was worth saving for. Valentine's night stripped even that away. Teresa chose his bully. Ricardo's men put him in the garbage, literally.

Then a voice activated in his head.

The Chosen Heir System doesn't do sympathy — it does missions. Its first order: save the sister of the man who just destroyed him. Adrian ran through the rain, bleeding, and did it anyway.

One mission. One million dollars.

Ricardo Rodriguez has no idea what he just created. And the system is only getting started.

I swear, I hate my husband.

At my birthday party, my husband whispered to his mistress in French that he missed her. His voice was low, but I heard it all—the black lingerie, the bit about how pregnancy makes you more sensitive. His French clients around us were laughing. He turned and put his arm around me, claiming he was just helping his clients come up with sweet nothings.

He doesn't know I understand every single word. Just like he doesn't know that inside my body, I'm carrying his other surprise. And his mistress—she's pregnant too. Two wombs, one secret.

Confrontation would be too cheap. Tears are worthless. I quietly started cataloging the hidden networks my father left behind, activating the Swiss accounts.

In seven days, Zoey Smith will cease to exist. And what will my husband's reaction be?

Ten o'clock on a Friday night. I'd just gotten my daughter down when my phone lit up.
A name I hadn't seen in three years: Preston Kane.
Sophie, it's been three years. You've had long enough to cool off. I land at Logan tomorrow night. Come pick me up, and bring your parents. Let's set a date.
Let's do the wedding on Isla Perla. You always talked about that place.
I stared at the screen. I sent back a single question mark. Then I added: We broke up three years ago.
A voice memo came back almost instantly. He sounded exactly the same. That same unshakable certainty.
"Broke up? Says who? I never said that. You haven't dated anyone in three years. You were waiting for me, obviously. Don't worry, I'm going to marry you. As for Nina, try to be the bigger person. She's the one who took care of me in London all this time. I'm sure you two will get along fine."
I turned my phone face down on the nightstand.

A Hollywood producer pays stunt performer Mara Keene half a million dollars to move in with her movie-star son. She'll get another half million if she can keep Theo Mercer away from the actress who's been taking advantage of him.

Theo opens the door, learns what his mother has done, and tells Mara to get out. Mara is ready to return the money—until his mother offers the second payment. She turns back with her suitcase. Theo can hate the arrangement all he wants; Mara isn't leaving. But sharing a house with a man who refuses to be managed may prove harder than taking the job.