183 Book(s) Related to if tomorrow never comes

For three years, Ivy Green was Gabriel Black’s quiet omega wife.

She loved him, healed him, and built a home around a man who never truly saw her.

To Gabriel, their marriage was convenient. Controlled. Temporary.

Then his fated mate returned.

After one final night of passion, Gabriel asked Ivy for a divorce and thanked her for the past three years—as if her love had been nothing more than a service completed.

Heartbroken, Ivy left Silver Moon Pack and returned to her struggling hometown, only to find her family drowning in debt, her father gravely injured, and their winery stolen by a scheming relative.

For the first time in years, Ivy stopped living as an Alpha’s wife.

She started living as herself.

But Gabriel soon discovers that letting Ivy go was not freedom. It was the beginning of his ruin.

She no longer answers his messages.
She no longer waits for him.
She no longer belongs to him.

And piece by piece, Gabriel begins to uncover everything he never knew:

The pain she hid.
The sacrifices she made.
The family she protected.
The love he took for granted.

Now the woman he discarded is rebuilding her life without him.

And the Alpha who thought he chose fate may have lost the only mate his heart ever truly wanted.

My aunt was terrified I'd end up with a human. So she arranged a marriage herself.

The groom? Kael Voss. Alpha heir to the most powerful pack on the East Coast.

I had a Moonstone Mate Necklace custom-made for the occasion. Global commission. A hundred and eighty thousand dollars.

The day I went to pick it up, it was snatched right out of my hands.

The woman who took it? Chloe Hart. Kael's so-called childhood best friend.

She looked me up and down like I was a stray dog that had wandered in off the street.

"A hundred and eighty grand? Sweetheart, you can't even afford the tax."

Then she told me to get on my knees. Right there, in front of the whole store. Scream three times, "I'm a worthless stray Omega and I know my place."

I didn't kneel.

I threw her own words right back in her face and put her on the floor with one kick.

That's when Kael walked in. My fiancé. The man I'd never met until that very moment.

And damn... he was gorgeous.

I'll be honest, I'm shallow. Always have been. That face hit every single thing on my list.

So I walked right up to him, gave him my sweetest smile, and said, "Hi. I'm Judy. Your fiancée."

Spring is the season I dread the most.

Because every spring, my mere existence becomes a lethal weapon against my own son.

Theron told me he suffers from a highly rare condition: Maternal Stress Rejection Syndrome.

If I so much as get near Flynn during the spring months, it triggers severe asthma attacks and terrifying asphyxiation.

To keep our boy alive, Theron takes him away to an isolated treatment center for three months, every single year.

And I stay behind, swallowing antidepressants by the handful just to survive the crushing guilt.

That is, until I found a photo hidden in Theron's burner phone.

In the picture, my husband and my son are tightly embracing another woman.

The so-called Maternal Stress Rejection Syndrome was nothing but a sick lie—a meticulously crafted excuse so my husband could spend the season playing "happy family" with his first love.

......

When I was six, my father and his mistress drove my mother to jump to her death. Suicide is a sin, and the Church said her soul could not enter Heaven. So I set out to save her the only way I could: with my Rh-null "golden blood," I worked ninety-nine miracles of life.

Then came the hundredth call. The hospital needed me to save my father's illegitimate son.

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.

In my last life, the heatwave collapse began with me turning an abandoned warehouse into a safe zone. I stocked it, fortified it, and brought my girlfriend inside. That same night, she slid the bolts open from within and let an armed crew storm the place. They threw me out to die.

I survived the heat, only to learn too late that it was just the warning. The real purge came next, when brutal cold hit overnight and froze me to death in the snow.

Then I opened my eyes and found myself back one month before disaster.

While everyone else rushed to buy water and fans, I was the only one who knew the heat was just the beginning. The deep freeze was what would really wipe people out.

This time, I explained nothing. I poured everything I had into diesel, insulation, winter stoves, generators, and turned that warehouse into a fortress built for the cold.

She came again, just like before. This time, I never let her through the door. So she ran straight to the armed gang and had them surround my warehouse for three full days.

She thought trapping me inside meant she’d already won.

What she didn’t know was that in just a few more days, the freeze would arrive.

And the people outside had no fuel, no winter gear, no way to stay warm.

They weren’t waiting for me to break.

They were waiting for their own deaths.

In my third year at the Eden Center, I forgot how to play guitar, forgot the rhythm of rock and roll, and forgot the name Melody.
They used twelve thousand electric shocks and seven hundred hours of sleep deprivation to scrub my name down to Number 2963.
Now, I'm their perfect instrument. No preferences, no pain, only commands.
My parents finally got the perfect daughter they'd always dreamed of—until the day they ordered me to die.

In bed, he gripped my hips, whispering, "Principessa." In public, he was Cosimo—the ruthless mafia don who dismissed me with an icy, "Piccola."
For three years after he bought me, he never touched me. But a year ago, when Caterina returned, everything changed. He became a man possessed, tearing my dresses to shreds in the dead of night, claiming me with wild fury. He even promised to marry me in seven days.
On a storm-drenched afternoon, clutching my positive pregnancy test, I rushed to his private club to surprise him.
But as my hand touched the doorknob, Cosimo’s cold warning drifted through the door.
"Marcellino, know your place as a double. My things—especially Serenella—are strictly off-limits."
My blood ran cold. I peeked through the gap.
Cosimo sat on the sofa, completely indifferent. And by the pool table stood a man with a face identical to his.

Every time my husband’s adopted sister, Avey, had a tennis match, he would force a dark green concoction down my throat. As soon as it kicked in, my entire body would turn weak and aching.
He claimed it was a folk remedy, and I believed him.
In half a year, I lost twenty pounds, half my hair fell out, and I lost our four-month-old baby.
Until the night I overheard them whispering behind a cracked door—they had sought out a witch and cast a dark curse.
My forced standstill was the price for her endless stamina. All her fatigue and sports injuries were being directly transferred to me.
Late that night, listening to them plot to drain the life out of me, I made a choice. On the very night Avey won her championship, I climbed into a deep hibernation pod. I traded thirty days of absolute physical stasis to ensure she could never stop.

Aston Whitmore thought I loved him. Truth is, his mother bought a year of my life for a million dollars.
He thought those 3 AM study sessions were about redemption and romance across class lines. He didn't know I was never watching his pretty face—I was watching the countdown to my mother's kidney transplant payment.
I froze this trust fund prince's credit cards, cut his internet, and nailed him to that desk until his eyes went bloodshot cramming calculus.
When he turned into a guard dog in front of the whole cafeteria, publicly staking his claim on me, all I was calculating was the date that final payment would clear.
Today, he burst through the mansion door clutching his Yale acceptance letter, ready to give me some grand confession.
I was already thirty thousand feet up on a flight to Zurich, staring at that million-dollar deposit notification, face blank as I pulled out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and tossed it in the trash.
No note. No goodbye.
Just one notarized Service Completion Certificate sitting on that empty desk. Terms fulfilled. Transaction closed.

My sister’s TikTok Shop was on the verge of being shut down. As a top livestream creator with three million followers, I stepped in and turned a warehouse full of dead inventory into bestsellers.

That night, my sister shipped the wrong items for three hundred orders. I apologized on camera, then paid ten thousand dollars out of my own pocket to issue refunds and send replacements.

After the livestream, I went to the warehouse to pick up samples for tomorrow. The second I grabbed two insulated tumblers, my sister snatched them out of my hands.

“I knew it! You’ve been stealing from me again!”

I told her they were samples and that every item had been logged.

She refused to listen and smacked the shelf with her palm.

“My inventory has been off for months because you’ve been stealing from me! Pay me twenty thousand dollars, or I’m calling the cops!”

For three months, I hadn’t charged a flat fee or taken a dime in commission. I had even covered the customer service costs myself.

And now she was calling me a thief.

Our parents rushed in when they heard the shouting. Mom wrapped an arm around my sister and glared at me.

“You’re her older sister. You’re supposed to help her. But stealing says everything about what kind of person you are.”

Dad looked at me with disappointment. “Do you have any idea how hard your sister has worked to build this business? How could you take advantage of her?”

I looked at the three of them, each one convinced they were in the right, and laughed.

Fine. If they thought anyone could sell this stuff, they could go live and sell it themselves.

I overheard my husband tell his business partner, “I let Aria get pregnant for fun, not like I ever planned on letting them live, the babies make perfect specimens for Vivian’s research.”
The same day I discovered I was pregnant for the fifth time.
I used to believe he was my protector.
This time, I gathered proof of everything he’d done and made sure the truth destroyed him before I started my new life.

My daughter begged me, tears in her eyes, to take her to gymnastics camp—just the two of us.

I thought it was her way of proving she loved me.

I was wrong.

In that hotel room in Toronto, I overheard my husband's voice—with another woman.

“Don't worry, Sophia will find a way to stay a few more days. I promised her that blue limited-edition leotard.”

“Her body now… after giving birth, it's ruined.”

In that moment, my world collapsed.

I thought I'd only been betrayed by my husband.
But the daughter I raised with everything I had—she was his accomplice.

The child I nurtured with my own hands kept clearing the path: so that woman could sleep in my bed, wear the lingerie I could no longer fit into, sneer in front of the mirror at every single mark my body earned from bringing life into this world.

I once believed that giving up my career would be enough to hold my family together.

But they joined hands to tell me: my sacrifice was never honored. It was a joke.

When a woman who has given everything to her family finally wakes up—

Her revenge will make every single one of them remember exactly what they did.

When Trevor Sullivan had nothing, I gave up billions to follow him to Silicon Valley. Everyone said I was crazy in love with him, until his first love came back to the States right after he made it big.

Seven years of playing the perfect wife and mother, and then I hear him coaching our five-year-old daughter: "Ruby, you can't tell Mommy about my fake wedding with Amber. Not a word, okay?"

"But Daddy, Mommy's gonna be sad..."

"If you tell Mommy, Daddy won't love you anymore. Got it?"

My daughter trembles, nodding frantically.

I stand outside the door, my heart turning to ash.

For the woman he never got over, he doesn't just betray our marriage. He makes our five-year-old lie for him.

Everyone expects me to cry, to beg, to fall apart.

Instead, I dial the number I blocked seven years ago: "Dad, can the family jet still come get me?"

Trevor Sullivan has no idea. I was never some gold digger who needed him to survive. I was the one with everything who made myself small for his sake.

While she’s at home preparing dinner for him, he’s out on dates. While she’s drinking with men to secure a business deal for him, he’s announcing his single status to boost his stock. When she drags herself to the hospital with a high fever, he’s there at the same hospital, caring for René—his mistress. She loved him for ten years, gave everything she had, and did everything she could for him. She never believed their love could die. Yet, it did. She doesn’t hate him; she’s simply exhausted, so she decides to leave.
Only then does she find a firm chest and a warm embrace that had been waiting for her all along. With her first taste of true love, she realizes how much time she wasted with her ex, a man who never truly loved her.
When he comes home one day, he’s shocked to find the woman who had always been there for him is gone. Regret floods him, and he chases after her, only to see another man by her side, taking sacred vows with her, their hands intertwined. In that moment, he realizes he’s lost the innocent girl who once loved him—the most precious treasure he ever had. And now, she’s gone forever.

Eilidh MacLeod thought she had escaped. Seven years after walking away from a cold marriage and a ruthless man, she has built a life of quiet stability with her son, Finlay.
But ghosts don’t stay buried forever. When Ruaridh MacKinnon—her powerful ex-husband—suddenly steps back into her world, her worst nightmare comes true. As the new owner of her company, he is now in control of her professional fate. And if he looks too closely, he may uncover the one secret she swore to protect.

"I gave you a life… and you took mine with it."

She woke up in a sterile hospital room, her body aching, her womb empty.
The child she carried—gone.
No name. No face. No goodbye.

To him, it was just a transaction. A contract. A child born of benefit.
To her, it was the beginning of everything—and the end of herself.

Years passed. Her heart hardened. But fate, cruel and poetic, dragged him back into her orbit.
Only this time, there are secrets.
And bloodlines.
And a storm of revenge, waiting to unravel them both.

In a world where love is a luxury and hatred is inherited, how do you survive the one man who cost you everything… yet still makes your heart ache?

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...

For eight years, I’ve been invisible in my own home.
No cake. No presents. Nobody remembers I’m allergic to the shrimp I cook every week. My husband, Derek, a respected cardiologist, hides behind his silence. My six-year-old son has learned to look right through me. And my mother-in-law, Barbara, has a "weak heart" that flares up every time I open my mouth.
So on my thirty-third birthday, when my best friend sends dinner from Fiorella’s, the restaurant I haven’t let myself set foot in since my wedding, it should be one small, good thing.
By the time I set the table, my family has eaten every bite.
The next day, Barbara clutches her chest in front of her entire card club, and suddenly I’m the monster who nearly killed her. Derek bundles his mother and our son into the car and leaves me standing in the driveway, drowning in whispers.
So I follow them.
From the back seat of a stranger’s car, I watch my "dying" mother-in-law stroll into Fiorella’s, laughing. Derek is right behind her. And my little boy asks if they can play "the sick game" again.
Eight years of lies, and I was the only one in this family who didn’t know it was a game.
Now I’m done playing.

I was the unluckiest kid in my family—always the one pulling the black-tipped stick from that pretty little "Fairness Jar."
In our house, red meant new dresses, Disneyland, and a goodnight kiss from Mom. Black meant endless chores, lockup in the attic, and the kind of hunger that ate you from the inside out.
Mom loved to stroke my hair in front of the neighbors. "God gives everyone a fair shake," she'd say. "Riley's just a little unlucky, is all."
I believed her for fourteen years.
Until I had an asthma attack and died on that dusty attic floor.
The moment my soul slipped free, I looked down at the overturned Jar, its sticks scattered across the floorboards—and I finally understood why I'd drawn black every single time.

Seven years ended with one ringtone at the altar.
One quiet apology, then he walked away to the pregnant ex he once called a mistake, leaving me beneath crystal lights and camera flashes, the perfect discarded bride. Publicly humiliated.
I made a decision that shocks them all.
I married Adrian, Marcus's estranged elder stepbrother, the self-made billionaire their father once discarded. Cold. Untouchable. Far more powerful than the heir who betrayed me.
Our marriage is a contract.
He needs stability to secure his corporate takeover. I need a throne high enough to watch Marcus fall.
But our 'fake' touches turn into an obsession neither of us can control.
Now I'm carrying Adrian's child — the true firstborn heir of the legacy built on betrayal.
And this time, I'm not the woman left behind. I'm the prize.

“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.

Three years ago, a private plane crash took my father, my mother, my brother Carter, and Grayson, the man I'd loved for seven years and was about to marry.

To hold onto everything they left behind, I cried until my eyes were raw, destroyed my stomach, and fought my way through boardrooms and Wall Street vultures.

On countless nights, I held their photographs and cried until I passed out.

What I never understood was why Willow, the foster sister we'd taken in, vanished without a trace after the crash.

Until today, three years later, when I drive back to the family estate with a diagnosis in my bag telling me I have three months to live.

I push open the heavy door and hear laughter. I see my family—the family that's supposed to be dead—gathered around Willow and her three-year-old son, singing happy birthday.

Turns out no one in this world ever loved me at all.

Why do they all get to live while I'm the only one who have to die?

The craziest thing I've ever done? Agreeing to Mason's idea—sex in the middle of nowhere.
But then his first love called, and he left me stranded out there. Alone. In the dead of night.

"I quit." I slammed the words onto the table like a verdict.
From my purse, I pulled out the papers I had carried for weeks, the ones I had drafted in the dead of night while he was in her bed, and slapped them in front of him.
DIVORCE.
Serena Vaughn had been invisible for too long, the discarded wife of Damien Blackwood, a billionaire who saw her as nothing more than a trophy. But when humiliation became unbearable, she walked away, ignoring the world's bets that she would crawl back.
Months later, Serena returns, but she is no longer the woman he dismissed. Now the CEO of a revolutionary tech empire, her brilliance commands respect, admiration and desire. Society that mocked her now fights for her attention: a Nobel-winning scientist, a Wall Street titan, even Hollywood's hottest star, all vying to be the man in her life.
But Damien is not ready to let go. When he confronts her, demanding to know if her child is his, Serena's icy reply cuts him deeper than any words ever could. "That's none of your business, ex-husband. Step aside."
The game has begun. Old enemies circle like vultures, but Serena is no longer prey. One by one, they fall under her power, until only one question remains: how far will a broken man go when the woman he discarded becomes the queen of his ruin?

In her past life, Arabella Oberon was the lowest-ranking member of the Oberon family.

She genuinely took in Regina, the butler's daughter, only to be constantly manipulated by this cunning and manipulative woman.

Regina gradually stole the love from her three brothers.

Arabella was forced to give Regina blood transfusions time and again, her weight plummeting to a mere eighty-eight pounds.

Ultimately, under the relentless pressure from her brothers, she jumped out of a window in despair and died. Her last words were,

"What about Regina's blood transfusions?"

When she opened her eyes again, Arabella found herself reborn three years earlier—the very day Regina appeared at her doorstep crying, begging for help.

Looking at the pitiful, tearful girl before her, Arabella smiled.

No more soft-heartedness.

No more groveling.

Instead, she "kindly" arranged for Regina to move into the servants' quarters, to earn her own living through honest labor.

Faced with her brothers who sided with her, she no longer bothered to please them.

And towards her former fiancé, Theodore, whom she had once fawned over, she remained cold, distant, and indifferent.

Moreover, in this life, they would discover that her identity was far more than just the eldest daughter of the Oberon family.

Seventeen-year-old Sable Thorne has spent her whole life running from a town she doesn't remember. When her mother, Morwen, drags her back to decaying Echo Ridge three days before her eighteenth birthday, Sable assumes it's just another one of her mother's inexplicable decisions.

Then she finds the diary.

Hidden beneath the floorboards of her childhood bedroom, a leather-bound journal belonging to Larkin Crowe — a girl who vanished thirteen years ago — contains a warning written directly to Sable: "Don't let her come back. Sable — run."

As Sable investigates, the town closes ranks. Her mother gaslights her. The sheriff dismisses her. A therapist diagnoses her with psychosis. Only two people believe her: Orion Kael, a cynical local whose brother vanished six years ago, and Corbin Ash, the reclusive groundskeeper who knows more about Larkin's fate than he admits — because Larkin was his daughter.

What Sable uncovers is a pact older than the town itself: every seventeen years, Echo Ridge offers a girl to something buried beneath the well — a root that feeds on blood and keeps the town alive. Morwen was meant to be the sacrifice thirteen years ago. She traded Larkin instead. And the debt was never cleared.
Now the root wants what it was originally promised: Sable Thorne.
With three days until her birthday — and the deadline — Sable must decide whether to run, surrender, or shatter the anchor that binds the town to its curse. But breaking the pact comes with a price. And some doors, once opened, can never be closed.

My brother came home from Ashgrave twenty pounds lighter with two small scars on his throat and no memory of the winter.
Everyone said mono. Everyone said burnout. Everyone said hockey.
I took his scholarship. I took his number. I am the only girl on the roster and the first thing they told me is that nobody skates after midnight.
So obviously I skated after midnight.
The Night League is real. The scouts in the stands are not scouts. And the boy at center ice, Aurel Valcourt, who has been trying to get me expelled since the day I arrived, moves like something that has never needed to breathe.
He got to me first. He is faster than the rest of them.
And when he bit me, he stopped wanting it. Not just my blood. All of it. Three hundred years of hunger, gone, in four seconds.
Now nine families want to know what I am. One of them wants me on a table.
And Aurel wants me to run. Which is a problem, because the only thing I have ever been good at is not running.

"What kind of sick game are you playing?" my husband, Mark, snapped through the phone.
I stared at my heavy plaster cast and said nothing.
In my previous life, distant relatives brought a bag of cash to my clinic, begging me to bump my cousin up the surgery waitlist. I refused.
By morning, the money vanished.
Security footage showed someone in my scrubs, with my exact face, stealing it.
My colleague, Sarah, and my husband accused me of taking the bribe. They destroyed my career. My cousin died waiting.
Driven mad by grief, her parents ran me down with their truck.
Reborn, when I saw the new surveillance footage, I finally understood who she was.

I straighten up after three back-to-back all-nighters, my stomach aching so badly I can barely stand up straight. At one in the morning, I head to the twenty-four-hour diner below my studio for a bowl of soup, just to keep myself going.

Steam rises off the bowl, and when I look up, my blood goes cold.

Beckett Wexford, my husband, head of the Wexford Group and a man with a serious germ phobia, sits right there, completely out of place in this greasy late-night diner.

He patiently picks the onions out of her burger, one piece at a time, while the girl next to him laughs, bright and carefree, her profile eerily close to what mine looked like at twenty.

"Beckett, you're so bad at this. It's just an onion."

The man who's been ice cold to me for years has a look in his eyes I've never seen before, soft, doting, like she's something precious to him.

"Hold on, almost done."

Eight years of marriage, and I turned myself into some neurotic housekeeper. Turns out all that tenderness was just going somewhere else.

I pull out my phone and open the divorce agreement I drafted a while ago.

Eight years. It's time to get myself out of this.

In my past life, I stood on the execution platform, watching the entire city—brainwashed by the Saintess—smile as they willingly degenerated into ghouls.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to exactly one month ago.

I smashed the knight's sword that symbolized my honor. Dragging a high-tier ghoul into my basement, I slashed my left wrist open with a heavy blade.

Stripping away all the Holy Light protecting my body, I brutally shoved my bleeding wrist straight into the ghoul's gaping maw.

My bones let out muffled, explosive cracking sounds as they were eroded by the tyrannical ghoul virus. I crushed the reinforced steel bedframe out of shape with my bare hands.

At the Moonshadow Council, my fiancé knelt before the throne with his new lover and asked permission to marry her—while keeping me as his nameless second mate.

He mocked me for having no parents and no family, claiming that if I left the Silver Fir Pack, I would not even have a place to sleep.

I removed my engagement ring and looked toward the throne. No one knew that the Lycan King seated above us was my own brother—the brother who had entered this world with me.

And my brother had already set down his goblet.

“Are you certain you want to treat her this way?”

My name is Grace Lawson. In everyone’s eyes, I’m a young, beautiful, and widely renowned hypnotist.
I’m also the girlfriend and cooperative partner of Adrian Carter, a rising star in the business world.
Lovers and partners—we raked in money together, winning big and shining bright.
In just three years—one thousand days and nights—I stood by him from nothing to everything, through every storm.
And yet, even with love and profit working well together, he still wouldn’t bring up marriage.
Until I happened to hear him say:
“A woman like Grace Lawson isn’t suited to be a wife.”
“Who knows if the love I feel for her is just one of her schemes?”
Later, I broke my promise and hypnotized him.
That was when he finally got scared—when he understood my hypnosis could make him willingly do anything.
But I only said softly: “Adrian Carter, close your eyes… Forget me. Forget me completely.”