1455 Book(s) Related to granting one last wish

Six years ago, Evelyn White caught her husband Arthur Collins cheating, then left his mansion—pregnant and unseen. Now she’s back as Eve, a top artist, with two genius twins. At her exhibition, the kids yell “Mommy”… and Arthur’s world breaks. He’s obsessed with dragging her (and the kids he never knew) back. She just wants to paint and protect her family. But as their past’s lies unravel, escaping him means fighting for more than just freedom.

I loved Callum Crane for five years. He said I didn't fit. Then he proposed — to my sister.
The same night, his brother called me with the most insane idea I've ever heard: marry him instead. Same day. Same venue. Right across the hall from my ex and my sister's ceremony.
I said yes. Not because I loved Emrys Crane. Because I'd rather set the whole thing on fire than sit in a pew and watch.
Here's the thing about revenge marriages, though. They're supposed to be fake.
Nobody told Emrys.
The man had a wrench set in his truck that only fit my grandmother's machine — bought years before I ever spoke to him. He'd been sneaking looks through my workshop window so often the stone wore down. He fixed my motorcycle three times and never mentioned it. He remembered that I stared at a piece of almond brittle for ten seconds once, and bought it for me weeks later.
Seven years. He'd been in love with me for seven years. Said nothing. Did everything.
And Callum? The man who told me I didn't fit?
He showed up at my orchard with an apology and a folder full of evidence against my sister, begging for a second chance.
I looked him in the eye and said: "Too late. Wrong harvest."
He tried five more times. It only got worse for him.

I was at my favorite artist's concert, phone up, recording the Kiss Cam segment. My boyfriend Mason said he was three hours away having dinner at his parents' house and couldn't make it, even sent me a selfie as proof.

Then the Kiss Cam found him.

On the giant screen, Mason wore the exact same gray vintage rock tee and black ripped jeans from his "family dinner photo," his arm around a blonde girl with her head on his shoulder.

The arena erupted: "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

He looked like he'd seen a ghost, frantically trying to block the camera.

My phone's location alert read: "Mason is nearby (0.1 miles)."

Three years of us, exposed as a massive lie in front of thousands of cheering strangers.

On my due date, my husband Russell locked me in an underground freezer at minus ten degrees.

The Pembroke family's unbreakable rule: the first-born male inherits the entire mafia empire. My sister-in-law Natasha and I were both pregnant, our due dates only one day apart. To ensure his brother's child was born first, Russell made this insane decision.

"My brother and Natasha's baby has to come first—this is what you owe them!" He ignored my desperate pleas and violent contractions, coldly shoving me into the freezer.

But that wasn't enough. They forcibly injected me with labor-delaying drugs. I curled up in agony on the freezing concrete floor, feeling my baby slowly slipping away, tears of despair streaming down my face.

My baby, Mommy is so sorry...

On college application day, my two childhood sweethearts, Blaise and Kieran, were completely bewitched by Mari. The manipulative girl talked them into abandoning their prestigious university spots to attend a small community college with her. I tried desperately to stop them, even contacting their parents to prevent them from ruining their futures.
Yet when Mari ended up dead months later, the blind boys blamed everything on me. They tricked me to the cliff and shoved me down brutally, making me pay for a crime I never committed.
Miraculously, I am reborn on this exact day. This time, I will not interfere. I will watch silently and let them bear the consequences of their own foolish choices.

Born with magic in her veins, Murphy Davide is a witch hiding in plain sight as a raccoon shifter.

Theodore Williams is a dragon tormented by the violence in his blood. When their paths cross at Arlo University, what begins as a pragmatic alliance—she seeks to develop a dragon transformation stabilizer;

he simply wants to survive to adulthood—slowly blossoms into something neither expected: trust.

But prejudice never sleeps within the academy walls. The Second Squadron marks them as a threat.

The psionic witch Phyllis covets Theodore's bloodline for her own dark purposes. Even Hetty, Murphy's dearest friend, grows distant amid the brewing storms.

Through a critical experiment under the full moon and a life-and-death trial in the botanical gardens, Murphy comes to understand a devastating truth:

true stability was never something a potion could provide. It is found only in the mutual redemption of two lonely souls who dared to choose each other against all odds.

A witch's magic. A dragon's curse. A bond that could save them both—or destroy everything.

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 endured in silence for five years, and everyone treated me like worthless trash. My wife sacrificed our daughter for vanity, my in-laws called me bottom-tier scum, and a senator wanted me dead to divide up my fortune. They thought I was just an ant they could trample at will. Until I produced the Supreme Commander's immunity medallion, until armed helicopters hovered above the courthouse, until I forcibly hijacked the national broadcast, they finally realized what kind of existence they had provoked. I am "Night Asura"—the one man in this world who should never be crossed.

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."

Everyone said I was just a shadow of Ethan, that I was nothing without him.
So during the tryouts, to comfort his "scared" sweetheart, he let go mid-jump, almost costing me my life.
He was betting I couldn't leave him, that I'd forgive him like I did the last eighteen times.
But he lost.
This time, I didn't cry or throw a fit.
I simply tossed the apartment key that symbolized our seven years together into the trash, then turned and walked toward my own world championship.

Everyone in the New York mafia world knew that Ethan Leone, the Don of the Leone family, was obsessed with his wife.
And I was his legally wedded Donna.
But the moment I pushed open the doors to the nightclub with my pregnancy report in hand.
I saw my husband’s hand resting on his stepmother Serena’s swollen belly.
The report slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor.
Serena glanced at it without the slightest concern.
Then she smiled.
“You can’t have children anyway. Once the baby’s born, you can raise it.”
That was the moment I decided to divorce him.
But later, while Ethan was away, she shoved me from behind at the top of the staircase inside the family mansion.
I tumbled down the stairs.
Blood poured between my legs.
Ethan rushed over.
He saw it.
He saw the blood.
But in the end, he chose to pick Serena up and run out the door without looking back.
I lay in a pool of blood, pulled out my phone, and called my family lawyer.
“The money my family loaned the Leone family three years ago…”
“Prepare a demand notice.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Diana… if you take that money back, the Leone family will go bankrupt.”
I stared blankly at the ceiling and wiped away my tears.
“I know.”

At the dinner party, Alexander had his arm around my waist, chatting and laughing with clients in German.
I was about to tell him the happy news that I was pregnant.
He was tender and affectionate in front of me, kissing my cheek from time to time.
But they didn't know my German was fluent enough to understand every dirty detail.
Like right now, I heard him bragging to the client about how wild things got last night with his stepsister Lillian.

The Enforcement Corps hauled me out of my apartment in the middle of the night and dumped me at the Southside Precinct.

The subordinate I'd trained myself had scratch marks all over her neck and collarbone, and she was shaking so hard she could barely stay on her feet.

The second she saw me, she pointed and started screaming that my mate had raped her.

"Director Cordelia, I've always looked up to you. You can't sic your mate on me just because I disagreed with you in a meeting!"

My brain just went blank. Because I don't have a mate.

I’m Leona, and I’ve hidden a forbidden love under the moonlight of the werewolf world for nine long years—an unspoken bond with my brother’s closest friend, Alpha Nick.
When he looked at me and said, “I’ll find someone better for you,” there was a flicker in his eyes I couldn’t read. But when he turned away, it was to chase after his ex-girlfriend, Selene, crashing through the forest branches like gravity itself answered her call. “His wolf never resonated with ours.” Aris, my wolf, howled inside me.“You’ve spent years trying to spark fire in frozen stone.”
And yet, I was the fool who mistook the instinct for fated love.
In my past life, when I was seven months pregnant and trapped beneath an avalanche during a winter patrol, he was tucked in a border cave listening to Selene sing ballads under moonlit stalactites.
When I was curled in pain from stomach ulcers, he was busy tuning her purification crystals.
Even when I was shoved into the river by Selene, it wasn’t my drowning body he s

Warning: This book contains steamy, raw, and mature content.
"Please, let me taste you," Ava begged, broken and desperate—after he tortured her by forcing her to watch as he fucked that blonde. "Now, spread those thighs, sweetheart. Show me how wet that pussy already is."
Ava Sinclair Vance was once a stripper. Now she's the wife of billionaire Leon Vance, bound by vows of forever—until his endless "business trips" left her aching and burning with unmet desire. One reckless night, she returned to Club Orion for a single pole dance. Just to feel alive again. A stranger in the shadows had other plans.
What began as one lap dance exploded into a night of ruthless, filthy sex that left her utterly ruined for anyone else. She woke up wrecked, convinced it was a nameless one-night mistake she could bury and forget. Until the next morning's business lunch with Leon's best friend. She discovered she couldn't escape him—not when the stranger and Leon's best friend were the same man. And certainly not when he was the one demanding more nights… to cover up her "one little mistake."
How long can Ava stay trapped between two ruthless billionaires before one claims her completely? And what if those nights were never about silence… but about breaking her so thoroughly she begs to stay?

Every July, my husband left for a business trip to France—so for seven full years of marriage, we never once got to celebrate our wedding anniversary.
This time, I flew all the way to France to surprise him, and mid-flight, I stumbled across a social media post.
My dream girl finally agreed to be with me. How do I make the frumpy, worn-out wife back home file for divorce on her own?
The OP poured out his grievances in the comment section:
When my dream girl suddenly moved abroad, I married her former best friend to keep me company through the hard times, just so I wouldn’t lose touch with her completely.
Now she’s finally said yes to being with me, and I’ve made enough to give her the lavish, privileged life she deserves.
I want my wife to find out about my affair herself so I can get a clean divorce without a fight, but she’s so painfully oblivious. I’ve come home reeking of my dream girl’s perfume on purpose, and every single July I fly here to France for our private time together, watching the lavender bloom in Provence with her. She never noticed a thing.
Perfume. July. France.
Those matching details made my fingers go numb. A deafening buzz exploded in my skull. A bone-deep chill washed over me, and I prayed with everything I had that it was all just a terrible coincidence.
Until I read the final line.
Just got a spending alert from her supplementary credit card—she bought a flight to France. I’m heading to pick up my dream girl now, might as well keep an eye out for her, just in case.
The plane touched down. When I stepped into the arrivals hall, I lifted my head almost instinctively.
There stood Shen Sinian, the man I hadn’t seen in two weeks, in a crisp, tailored suit, a bouquet of roses in his hand, locked in a passionate kiss with a woman with a stunning, willowy figure, her back to me.
He opened his eyes by chance, and through the crowd of travelers, his gaze locked directly with mine.

The night before move-in, Vivian Owens’ housing collapses and her best friends betray her.

Her only lifeline? Crashing with her brother and his roommate —
Elias “Carter” Carter, the tattooed star point guard every girl wants.

One accidental aphrodisiac cookie night turns her into his willing little sub as he commands her

“Don’t stop, My Little Bubbles.”

But Carter’s gang past , a situationship with her own reconciled ex-best friend Kelly , draft pressure, and his own demons rip them apart again and again. Two pregnancies. Two brutal runaways. A jealous rival doctor who becomes a monster. Readers will scream at Carter, cry for him, and beg for more.

Some love don’t just break hearts — they start wars on and off the court.

Reborn one year before the zombie outbreak, I awakened a supernatural storage space. I stocked massive daily supplies and transformed a secret mountain cave into an impenetrable fortress. I protect my grandma, take revenge on greedy relatives, fight mutated beasts and intelligent zombie monsters, and wait for the rebirth of human civilization in the end times.

In my last life, a friend I’d trusted for ten years drove a knife into my heart over a single biscuit. When I opened my eyes again, we had both been reborn—right before the extreme freeze arrived.

He was convinced the apocalypse had come. He borrowed from loan sharks, rented a massive warehouse to hoard supplies, and even crowned himself king during the icebound period, killing without mercy.

But he didn’t know the truth:

This disaster would end completely after only thirty days.

While he taunted me like a madman, I didn’t expose him. I calmly requested thirty days of paid leave from my company.

This time, I’ll sit in a warm, climate-controlled room and watch—when the state machine restarts on day thirty—how he drops to his knees and sobs in despair.

Alpha Blake exterminated her pack. She was taken to the Ralton pack as a trophy and punching bag.
Upon shifting, she finds that his son is her mate.
He rejected her because she was a weak rubbish- an Omega!
Heartbroken, she left the pack and was hunted by the Alpha's son who shot her.
But she didn't die, nor did she reject him.
Years later, a kick-ass female whom every Alpha wants as Luna, returns to the Ralton pack. Her aim? To crush the pack and make the Alpha bow!
Pretty cool right?

Add to your libraries. More updates are coming soon. Lest I forget, accept my kisses! :)

Nora Vale was never supposed to be seen.

For three years, she rebuilt hockey captain Callum Pierce after the injury that nearly ended his career. She tracked his tremors, rewrote his recovery protocol, and carried the private marriage his family refused to make public.

Then he won the championship.

Under the arena lights, Callum lifted the cup and thanked Sloane Mercer, the beautiful sports host the cameras already loved. Backstage, Nora watched her own medical system appear under Sloane's name.

That night, Nora left with the evidence and the child Callum never knew existed.

Three years later, Nora is no longer hiding in the tunnel. She is the chief medical consultant for the rival team, the one woman the league needs when old concussion records begin to surface. Callum wants answers. His father wants control. Sloane wants the public story to stay clean.

Nora wants her name back.

But the fight is no longer only about a stolen system. It is about a son whose medical records could shift a franchise, a trust that could break the Pierce family, and a championship myth built on the woman they erased.

Callum thanked the wrong woman on the night he won.

Now the whole league is about to learn who made him a champion.

He hated her, believing she betrayed him and his family. Only to discover that he was the villain all along...

Mila Russetti’s life turned upside down the moment she decided to break the rigid rules of her foster family__the most dangerous Mafia family in the USA__for the first time in her life.

By that single act of rebellion, she payed dearly: she was set up, raped, used as a pawn to break down the Haydens.
Her foster family kicked her out of their lives and sent her overseas treating her as a traitor.

After four years, they showed up again in her life, claiming she owed their dying father a last visit.
She returned to the Hayden's mansion with her three years old son, only to discover that they were trying to cage her again and forcing her into a marriage.

Will she give in to their abuse, especially after she had discovered the shocking truth of the identity of her rapist? And how will she take her revenge on them when she finds out that she's the heiress to a Tycoon mafia empire?

How does her biological mother's shady past affect Mila's present?

Is it true that the only thing that brings dangerous and ruthless Mafia Lords, those who are morally gray to their knees, begging and regretting, are the women they worship?

A juicy and twisted love-hate dynamic, Obsession, toxic attraction story.


When she pressed the knife to her own throat, his mask finally cracked. He hesitated for a second before confessing with guilt, “I know who did it, Mila. I know who raped you that night four years ago. And I assure you, he wasn't one of Hayden's enemies.” He stared toward his two brothers with an accusing look.

TRIGGER WARNING:
The story too dark.

Self-made CEO Angela Vale dies in a high-speed car crash, only to wake up on an 1800s execution block. Trapped in the body of a low-ranking maid framed for poisoning the royal princess, she has zero voice to defend herself.
When the terrifyingly handsome Emperor Alexander spares her neck at his daughter's request, Angela thinks she survived the worst. But the palace is full of vipers. That very night, the evil Queen Mother gives her a deadly choice: seduce the cold-hearted Emperor in thirty days, or be quietly strangled.
Without a voice, Angela has to use her sharp corporate brain to navigate lethal court politics, play the icy King like a violin, and survive a world trying to kill her, again.

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."

On our wedding day, Declan sent me out to Long Island. We'd been together seven years.

He said he'd left his grandmother's lucky cufflinks at the family house.

But when my car died in the storm, I opened my bridesmaid's Instagram live.

Declan was sliding my custom diamond ring onto Phoebe's finger—my adopted sister, the one with the bad heart.

My own parents were crying in the front row. My bridesmaids were cheering.

They'd turned my wedding into a dying wish ceremony for Phoebe.

Hours later, alone in the ER, I called forty-seven times.

No one picked up.

Not until after I lost the baby and disappeared from Manhattan.

That's when Declan finally came apart.

My downstairs neighbor tagged me in the building group chat at ten p.m.
His wife just had a pup, he said. Pups need moonlight, he said. So starting tonight, my private moon terrace belongs to his family.
He'd even pay me rent. Ten dollars a month.
For the terrace of a three-million-dollar penthouse.
When I said no, he reminded me he wasn't just my neighbor. He's my supervisor at the Calloway Group, and my probation review sits in his hands. Hand over the door code, or I'd never survive at that company.
He kept saying it. I can crush you at the Calloway Group.
Funny.
My mother owns the Calloway Group.
I was going to let him dig his own grave quietly. Then his family broke into my home, walked up to the one thing on that terrace worth half a million dollars—
And smashed it.

I boarded The Elysium, thinking it was just another job.

A luxury cruise ship. A floating paradise for the world’s elite.

Private. Untouchable. Unregulated.

I was wrong.

Within hours, I was accused of a murder I didn’t commit.

And on The Elysium, innocence is not something you prove.

It’s something you lose.

That’s when I met him.

Silas Voss.

They call him the Sovereign of the ship.

He didn’t ask if I was guilty.

He asked how much I was worth.

I was given a choice:

Death… or a ninety-day contract under his control.

His physician.
His property.
His possession.

I signed it.

Because I had no other way to survive.

I told myself I could endure him.

I told myself I could outsmart him.

But The Elysium doesn’t break people through violence alone.

It breaks them through permission.

And Silas Voss never takes what he can’t make you agree to give.

Every attempt I made to escape only brought me closer to him.

Every rule I broke only made him calmer.

More patient.

More interested.

Until I realized something I never should have felt in a place like this—

Fear wasn’t the worst part anymore.

And what he was turning me into… might be worse than what he did to me.

⚠MATURE READERS ONLY⚠ DARK ROMANCE | MORALLY GREY HERO | OBSESSION | FORCED PROXIMITY ⚠

Five years ago, Eric took the fall for his fiancée’s brother and was thrown into the notorious Saint Paul Mountain Women’s Prison.

Little did the world know, this hell on earth became his ultimate training ground.

Enduring brutal training under seven legendary masters, he emerged as a supreme martial artist and a divine healer, eventually taking over as the prison’s absolute warden.

But when he steps out, his world shatters: his three general brothers were ambushed and killed in action, his grandfather is on his deathbed, and his family empire has been reduced to ruins by wolves.

Now, the King of Saint Paul Mountain has returned to the city.

To those who betrayed his family and brought shame to his name—prepare to pay a hundredfold!

“You look soft, Pretty Boy. Like one hard hit on the ice would break you in half.”
“Then don’t hit me, Captain.”
A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “Who said anything about hitting you?”


My twin brother lived for hockey.
He was the university’s star winger, and the boy everyone expected to go pro but then he died.
Everyone called it an accident. I didn’t.
The last person seen with him was the university’s hockey captain.
The same captain everyone worships and the same captain I know is hiding something.
So I did the only thing I could.
I cut off my hair, bound my chest, buried my identity, and transferred to the same university disguised as a boy, determined to uncover the truth behind my brother’s death and expose the captain for the monster I believe he is.
No one can know who I really am, not my teammates, not the coaches.
And especially not the captain who watches me like he already knows I’m lying.
Living with twenty hockey players is a nightmare.
Becoming roommates with the one man I came to destroy is even worse.
He calls me Pretty Boy, pushes every button I have and protects me when no one else does.
And with every passing day, the man I swore murdered my brother becomes harder to hate… and impossible to stop wanting.
But someone knows why my brother died.
Someone is willing to kill to keep the truth buried.
And if I don’t uncover it before my disguise falls apart…
My brother won’t be the only one who never makes it off the ice.


…
A hidden-identity MF hockey romance.

BLURB

She is the nerd nobody cares about.

He is the hockey team captain and the popular guy on campus.

She's always an object of ridicule.

He is always there to save her.

He is her enemy.

She is the one girl that is able to catch his attention.

Their worlds couldn't have been more different.

Everything goes down the drain when Skylar falls in love with the one boy she is supposed to guard her heart around.

And even messier when the one person she hates the most in school not only stands up for her but kisses her as though his life depends on it.

What starts out as a contract becomes too real to be true, especially when she finds out her perfect golden boy is not just good on ice but rides his bike like he was born with the brakes.

A biker gang prince, a nerd guru, and secrets that come crashing down on them.

Their love gets forbiddenly sweeter when the biker prince finds out that everything Skylar has suffered is traced back to his bloodline.

During the SATs, someone in the exam room went completely mad, screaming about a freezing apocalypse and ghouls eating everyone in the world. Everyone laughed at him, but I was the only one frozen in shock.
Because the pendant on my chest, which could warn me of danger, was emitting an unprecedented, blazing alarm...

This was the most miserable Christmas I had ever experienced.
On Christmas Eve night, my husband brought his mistress home and demanded that I, his pregnant wife, leave with nothing.
On this day, I lost my husband and also lost the child in my womb...

My husband often made me suffer for the sake of my younger sister, even divorcing me because of her.
My parents gave all their love to my sister and neglected me.
My husband and parents even had my sister perform surgery on me.
But they didn't know that my sister had no idea how to perform surgery.
It didn't matter though, because I no longer cared.
On Christmas Day, when they were celebrating, they finally remembered me.
But I was already dead.

"I'll have her in my bed before prom."
That's what my "perfect boyfriend" wrote about me, in a group chat with his best friend — betting on me like I was some kind of prize, with his friend's ridiculously expensive vintage Porsche on the line.
Me, the nobody scholarship girl, somehow ending up with the most popular playboy in school? I actually thought it was fate. I thought it was my fairy tale.
Turns out, I was just the trophy they were fighting over the whole damn time.
So if you boys want to treat my heart like it's just some stupid bet, fine. Let's play this game to the very end.
At prom, I'll make sure they know it: they picked the wrong girl to mess with.

"Stay in the apartment," he said, straightening his tie as I fixed his collar. "I'll be back tonight." Then he walked out the door — straight to his wedding. What he didn't know was that my flight was already booked.
For three years I was his canary: locked in a penthouse, the only woman he let close when he bled, forgotten the moment another woman entered the room. I watched him let her wipe the blood from his face. I lost our child alone on a cold floor. I apologized to the woman who destroyed my mother's watch.
I was done waiting.
When the bells of Saint Patrick's rang out across Manhattan, he was welcoming his bride — and I finally flew out of my cage.

For three years of marriage, I played the perfect, obedient wife.
I married him only because my family once saved his from bankruptcy, and because I had loved him since college.
I thought time would soften his heart.
Then his ex returned, and everything fell apart.
He threw a welcome party for her himself, called me to the office under the pretense of work, then turned around and dismissed me as an eyesore. The whispers in the company cut into me like needles.
That same day, the hospital called. I was eight weeks pregnant with his child. Before the joy could settle, the word divorce fell lightly from his lips.
I asked for three months, just enough time to leave with what little dignity I had left. He agreed without emotion.
Yet after I moved out, he secretly placed me in a luxury apartment and stationed people to watch me day and night.
When I finally hid my pregnancy and resolved to raise the child alone, ready to confront his scheming ex, he cornered me against the wall, eyes red, voice shaking.
“Who gave you permission to walk away with my child?”

"I fell in love with a stranger. I didn't know he was my brother."
When I first saw Victor, I didn't see a sibling. I saw a man who set my skin on fire. I saw a pair of dark eyes that reflected my own soul. Our attraction wasn't just a choice—it was a gravity I couldn't escape. For weeks, we existed in a fever dream of late nights and whispered promises, building a future on a foundation I never knew was forbidden.
Then the truth came out. One old photograph, a single name, and my world shattered.
Now, the touch that felt like heaven feels like a sin. But how do you stop your heart from beating for the one person you were never supposed to touch?

"In the toxic halls of Eastview High, Aria Bellwyn has mastered the art of being invisible. But when she's forced to tutor golden boy Knox Hale, she's thrust into a world of danger and desire. As they navigate the treacherous social hierarchy, Aria becomes the target of Knox's manipulative ex, Blaire, and the ruthless queen bee, Sarah. But Knox's secrets run deeper he's trapped in a deadly debt to a local crime lord, and Aria's the only one who can help him take down the corrupt empire controlling the school. As they risk everything to expose the truth, can they survive the betrayal lurking in every corner and find love in the process?

Dive into this heart-pumping, high-stakes romance where the line between invisible and irresistible is about to get blurred."

In my past life, I signed a marriage agreement, served as a live-in son-in-law for five years, and died in a hospital. Meanwhile, my "wife," Grace, was on the moon, embracing her lover and watching the star rings.
Given a second chance, she threw the agreement in my face at the marriage summit: "Sign it. After the wedding, I'll go find Karl. You'd better act like the legal wife."
I didn't refuse; I just tossed the agreement to my emotional nemesis .
The whole city laughed at my madness.
Until Grace flaunted her "pure-blood heir" at the 100-day celebration, I publicly projected her sterilization report—
the bastard in her arms was the product of her lover and a downtown prostitute.
And her lover was being mutilated in the downtown area.
In this life, I'm not a live-in son-in-law; I'm her gravedigger.

“You can stand there and deny it all you want,” he said huskily in my ear. “But I know how drenched you were that night. Your tight little p*ssy? It was calling my name, baby.”

“You’re insane! I never wanted you!” I gritted out, hating how weak I sounded. Hating how my arms suddenly didn’t have the strength to push him away.

How there was a part of me that truly wanted him, despite everything.

“Keep denying it,” he murmured, eyes darkening. “It just makes me more eager to bend you over my desk and f*ck that attitude right out of you.”


When executive assistant Alice Rhodes sent her arrogant and insufferable boss, Theodore Linden-Hawthorne, a sext during the company’s New Year’s party, her life turned completely upside down.

She lost everything: her fiancé, her family, and her best friend, all because of one embarrassing mistake. To make matters worse, Theodore seemed incapable of staying away from her, and Alice was horrified to realize that the feeling was slowly starting to become mutual.

But this attraction between them came at a price. Alice and Theodore came from two completely different worlds. Their attraction was forbidden and frowned upon by everyone around them. Would their love survive vengeful exes, juicy scandals, hidden secrets, and unexpected surprises?

She’s a widow by day, a wild biker by night. Two ruthless men want her. Only one will own her in the end.

Carlotta Russo survived her marriage to the cruel Alpha Dante—now, at just eighteen, she’s a widow with scars and secrets. By daylight, she keeps her head down, playing the good girl everyone wants to break. But after dark, she becomes a legend on the city’s underground racetrack—leather-clad, fearless, riding her bike like she’s running from hell itself.

And hell is coming for her—twice.

Gabriel, the school’s dangerous king, wants her on her knees, desperate for his touch.
Paxton, the cocky, blue-eyed street racer, wants her screaming his name, begging for more.

They don’t just want her. They want to own her.

Tonight, the rules are simple—first to catch her, first to claim her. The loser walks away.
The winner gets Carlotta in his bed. All night. No limits.

“You want a taste, Gabriel?” Paxton smirks, eyes dark with hunger. “Beat me on the track. Winner takes her home.”
Gabriel’s grin is pure sin. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you forget you ever belonged to another man.”

Carlotta’s heart races almost as fast as her bike. She should run. She should fight. But every wicked promise, every hungry glance, makes her body ache for more.

In the dark, between burning engines and hotter hands, she’s the prize in a game that will break every rule—and maybe her.

Widow. Biker. Bad girl in the making.
Tonight, Carlotta will be claimed.
But when the sun comes up, who will she be calling Daddy?
18+ ONLY. BDSM, EROTIC, AND RAW HOT SCENES INSIDE.
Read this book if you want to cum hard and beg for more.

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."

My mafia husband has a childhood sweetheart. Whenever she or her son needed anything, he would eagerly rush to their aid.
This time, when our son Noah suffered from acute retinopathy and desperately needed his signature for surgery, he claimed she was in mortal danger and couldn't leave.
Because he wasn't there to sign the paperwork, Noah ultimately went blind.
Yet later, on his sweetheart's Instagram, I saw that he was just dining with her and her son...

A zombie outbreak occurred, and my brother and I were both reborn ten minutes before the disaster struck.
This time, he seized the initiative, stealing the two high-level god-tier abilities, [Flame] and [Hardening], and casually pushed me out of the security door, locking me in the zombie-infested corridor.
Through the security door, he arrogantly declared, "In my past life, you always stood in front of me; in this life, I'll take the mark of survival."
In his eyes, the [Tracking] and [Preset] abilities the system assigned me were nothing but useless pieces of paper.
He thought I would die a horde of zombies.
But he didn't know that in the hands of a top hunter, seemingly useless skills could weave a hellish web that made life unbearable and death unthinkable.

“Wendy, are you absolutely sure you want to sign this document?”
The Elder’s voice rang in my ears—cold, distant.
“Once your bond with Alpha John is dissolved, you’ll lose everything tied to the Blackthorn Pack.”
I gripped the pen so hard my knuckles turned white.
“Yes. I’m sure.”
But just as the tip touched the paper—
BANG!
The door was kicked open with a violent crash.
Alpha John stormed in, eyes bloodshot, and wrapped his hand around my throat.
“You dare?!”
Blood slipped from the corner of my lips… but I laughed.
Because I knew—he would never discover the truth.
That his dear uncle, Alpha Vincent, was hiding in my closet at this very moment.
And the fresh bite mark on my lower belly… still burned from last night.
As if fate was mocking me, my sweet little sister Penny sent a message right then:
“Sis, wanna know a secret? That miscarriage you had? John planned it. He made it happen.”
Then the TV flickered to life with a breaking live broadcast—
There she was, Penny, gently stroking h

My name is Damian Lemaître.

In my past life, I was Serafina Camarilla's lapdog for ten years, being drained of my life, used, and squeezed dry of my last bit of value.

I opened my eyes and found myself back at the scene of the blood pact ceremony. She sat on the high seat, waiting for me to kneel down and swear the oath with the same excitement as in my previous life.

"Damian Flamel, are you willing?"

"No."

To save my cousin from a car accident, my mother, a medical luminary, used me as a "human guinea pig" for twelve years.
When I was twelve, she made me inject myself with three injections of unproven new drugs every week;
when I was fourteen, she directly shoved toxic compounds into my mouth.
When my organs were irreversibly failing and I was vomiting blood in the ICU, she coldly tossed me a payment order:
"Stop pretending to be dead. Immediately kowtow and apologize to your brother, or no hospital will admit you."
As she wished, I was forced to leave the hospital and died at her glamorous new drug launch.
Later, that high-and-mighty mother, obsessed with fame and fortune, knelt for an entire night in a snow-covered fir forest, holding my crudely made urn.
Sadly, I will never forgive her.

Before the apocalypse hit, my ex-girlfriend called me, laughing like a maniac: "Jack, you pathetic loser—still playing that stupid farming game? Gonna whack zombies with a hoe? Open the door right now, get on your knees, and beg us, and maybe we'll throw you some table scraps."
I listened to the faint scrape of a tactical knife being drawn on the other end of the line, and silently glanced at my computer screen—at the maxed-out Greenfield Manor game, with its gold cap glowing at [999,999,999] .
"You misheard." I dropped my voice, lacing it with just the right amount of embarrassment. "I was checking the weather forecast."
The other end erupted in unrestrained laughter: "Then forecast this—how you're gonna die today!"
I hung up without changing my expression, flipped open the system, and spent a million on the [Absolute Defense Shield] —then brought out a steaming plate of roasted meat.
Forecast?
I forecast that tonight, you'll be gnawed down to bare bones by zombies.