9889 Book(s) Related to the country girl my stepbrother couldn t resist

Olivia was brought to the Shadowcrest Pack by her adoptive mother, who along with her stepbrother, showered Olivia with love and care. However, she is far from being treated as a pack member. With the upcoming Pack Gathering, Olivia hoped to successfully transform and meet her mate, proving that she was not a "dirty half-breed" but a pureblood werewolf. Tragically, the only two people who care her, her adoptive mother and brother, were murdered before her eyes. Olivia vowed to seek vengeance.

Before the Pack Gathering could start, Ethan, the Alpha of the unaccredited and mysterious Mysticvale Pack, made a dramatic entrance with his followers. He, too, harbors unresolved secrets.

What dangers will Olivia encounter when she meets Ethan? How will their relationship evolve? Can Olivia achieve her revenge? Will Ethan be able to uncover the truth behind his father's death?

He laid me on the sheets, climbed over me, caged me with his arms. "Last chance to run," he said, voice low.
"I need the money," I whispered, feeling so tiny in his arms. "You're soaking," he muttered.
"Virgin or not, your pussy wants this."I moaned, looking away, couldn’t help it, "Eyes on me, sweetheart," he pushed his tip in slowly.
"Fuck," he groaned. "So tight. "He fucked me like he was claiming something.
"Come for me," he whispered in my ears, moving faster.
"Damien," I cried out his name as I came. "That's it," he growled. After a long minute he pulled out slowly.
"One night," he said again, almost like a reminder... Weeks later, I walked through the quiet hall of my school.
A massive portrait stared back at me.Damien Blackwood the Principal Benefactor and Owner of Columbia University. Same man who’d just taken my virginity for money. My stomach dropped. "Oh fuck... what have I done?"

WARNING: This is no sweet love story. It’s raw. Dark. Obsessive. The kind of power, control, pain, and BDSM-fueled pleasure that ruins you for anyone else.

My name is Ashley the good girl but that only got my mate to cheat on me with another man on our engagement ritual and the pack labeled me a rejected mate. Vodka couldn’t drown the shame. Nothing could.

I was already labeled a laughing stock so I might as well do the most forbidden thing ever by fucking
the ruthless Alpha Kaden who happens to be my father’s best friend.

BLURB

For four years, Avrielle lived in a gilded cage of gratitude, cherished by a husband who stayed by her side after a tragic accident left her paralyzed. She believed she was a beloved wife—until she found the diary. Inside were the jagged words of a man trapped by guilt, dreaming of a divorce and the woman he truly loved.

Now, Avrielle has twenty-four hours to play the part of the happy bride one last time. While Kayden performs a mask of devotion, she is orchestrating a silent escape that will strip him of everything. But as the clock ticks down to her flight to Switzerland, the lines between her revenge and her lingering love begin to blur.

What if all she believed in was a lie... What if she caused her own destruction?

“I’ll give you anything, Elsa—money, a car, a house, jewelry—just agree to the transplant. Ria really needs it.” I couldn’t believe his audacity. Was this really my husband, trying to bargain my body to save his fiancée?
“Sorry, I’m pregnant. I can’t donate a kidney,” I said, my voice shaky but determined. Anger boiled inside me, but I knew he was powerful. The pretend marriage was over, and his true colors were revealed. Afraid of what he might do to me, I didn’t yell or fight him. I just wanted to escape this nightmare, to break free from this cage I was trapped in.
But his reaction was even more chilling. He looked at me with no emotion.
“We’ll have an abortion.” His words hit me like a bomb. I couldn’t believe how coldly he spoke about ending his own child’s life.

Alexander Gray never suspects his investment consultant Vera is the hidden trillion-dollar heiress of Sterling Holdings. Fed up with restrictive elite life, she hides her identity to work an ordinary job. A sudden encounter with her boss sparks a thrilling secret romance—professional by day, irresistibly intimate by night.
When Alexander’s mother offers $50 million to drive her away, Vera shuts down her arrogance with a $100 million counteroffer. Her extraordinary talents soon surface, bringing huge profits and stunning the entire board. Once her true identity is revealed, the cold-hearted CEO falls madly in love, cherishing her genuine self over her wealth. A sizzling billionaire romance packed with shocking reversals and sweet true love!

For seven years, Elara sacrificed her blood to her wolf family, only to be betrayed by her husband and own child for a fake savior and a handful of candy. She abandons all love, awakens her ancient vampire queen power, and delivers brutal, unforgiving karmic punishment to everyone who drained and deceived her. No forgiveness, only eternal solitude atop her blood-stained throne.

My name is Arthur, a bottom-tier financial drone relying on liver cirrhosis to survive on Wall Street. My greatest dream is to land a normal labor contract that includes weekends off and social security, but this is destined to be impossible.
Because my dad is a Primordial Vampire, my mom is an Alpha Werewolf, and my older brother is an Urban Legend Wraith.
When my tycoon boss, trying to save on severance pay, deployed over a hundred heavily-armed mercenaries to physically eliminate me, I had no choice but to blow the bone whistle my old man gave me...

In this apocalyptic world of extreme heat, I fight for water in the underground black market, and I risk my life to hoard supplies.
My internet-famous roommate enjoyed my efforts while hiding in the air-conditioned room, panting softly in front of three fill lights: "We need to slow down and reconcile with nature."
Later, she stole my supplies and sold them to drug lords, causing me to be roasted alive on the riverbed.
After being reborn, I turned and left.
"Don't you like a slow-paced life? Stay here and enjoy it."
The end times have only just begun.

On the first day of college, most freshmen worry about making new friends. I had to figure out how to pay my own parents for a plate of lunch.
With every penny of my tuition and living expenses strictly controlled by them, I stood empty-handed in front of their campus Gospel food truck. But my mother didn't want cash.
She wanted a public spectacle to cure my "sinful depression."
My younger sister bought her lunch with a simple kiss on the cheek. But for me?
My mother pointed to the growing crowd of students and delivered her ultimatum: sing the toddler nursery rhyme 'My Mommy Is the Best' at the top of my lungs, or starve.
I chose to put the food down and walk away.
But my mother rushed out of the truck. Her fingernails dug violently into my wrist, dragging me back into her nightmare. "You're not leaving until you sing."

"Abort her mutt. Liora is carrying my true pureblood heir."
My Alpha husband’s voice was ice-cold as I bled out on the delivery bed.
The woman he was protecting? My fiercely loyal best friend.
While I was screaming in pain, biting my lips bloody to birth his child, he was in the next room, making her moan.
He killed our baby.
When I returned from burying my grandmother in the freezing rain, his guards threw holy water in my face.
"Wash her," Lachlan ordered coldly. "The stench of death on her will harm Liora's pup."
I stared at the man who once took nine lashes of a barbed whip just to marry me.
He aborted my baby to save hers. He let my only family die.
He tossed me a bag of gold like a beggar and told me to stop causing drama.
So, I packed my bags, and vanished into his world.

In my past life, I gave up my college acceptance to say yes to my boyfriend's proposal at our senior prom.

Just a few years into our marriage, my husband and my best friend teamed up to drag me through hell. He tricked me into signing away my entire inheritance, leaving me with absolutely nothing. She pretended to take me in, only to secretly get me hooked on drugs.

I was forced to sell my body just to survive, while they looked down on me, laughing as they squandered everything my father had left behind.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my eighteen-year-old senior prom.

Under the spotlight, my boyfriend was on one knee, holding up a ring. Looking at his face, all I could remember was the smirk he wore when he threw me out onto the streets.

Blessed with a second chance, I grabbed my dress, turned, and ran. I blocked all his contacts and dug the college acceptance letter out of the trash.

He thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He actually tracked me down at college, cornered me, and mocked me in front of a crowd: "Who would ever want you without me?"

I told him I already had a new boyfriend—someone a million times better than him.

I randomly pointed at a man in the crowd. Little did I know, I had pointed at the university's youngest board member—a ruthless Wall Street tycoon serving as a guest professor.

I braced myself for this bigshot to expose my lie.

Instead, he walked right up to my side, shot a freezing glare at my ex, and asked:

"Do you have a problem with my girlfriend?"

Three days after I died, the morgue called my husband Sebastian to collect my ashes.
He was kissing another woman when he hit speaker, his voice cold and dismissive: "She's dead? Cremate her. Don't call me again."
And just like that, my body was wheeled into the cremation chamber.
When he finally showed up to collect my remains, he smashed the urn on the floor and ground every fragment of my ashes into the tile with his shoe.
"Playing dead? What a pathetic stunt," he sneered. "Tell her the anniversary of my mother's death is coming up. She'd better show up at the cemetery on her knees, or even if she really is dead, I'll scatter her ashes in the sewer myself."
But he didn't know—I truly was dead.
My soul was bound to him, forced to drift at his side as he planned a lavish wedding with his adopted sister Claire—his mother's true killer.
By the time he discovered the truth and exposed Claire at the altar, I had already vanished.
He lost his mind, racing to the ocean to search for my ashes.
Never knowing that the remains he'd crushed like garbage under his shoe—the "fake ashes" he'd dismissed as part of my act—
Were all that was left of me.

Every night, dragging noises come from the floor above.
The neighbor claims he just can’t sleep, yet he stares at my window and grins in the dead of night.
Later, he dies.
But at two in the morning, I still get a text message from him.
Someone else warns me: Don’t go to the sixth floor.
The police say this building doesn’t even have a sixth floor.
Yet I’ve seen people go up there with my own eyes.
Where exactly does this so-called sixth floor lead?
Who really died?
And who on earth is the one texting me?

I've married sixteen dead men for a living. My seventeenth husband just opened his eyes.
I was born knowing one thing: the dead can speak one last time — but only to a spouse.
So I marry dead men. Rich families pay me to wed their fresh corpses, carry the last words sealed inside me, and read the testament out before the heirs. Then I burn the marriage certificate, and the marriage ends at the grave. Starting price: six hundred thousand dollars.
This morning, the Crane heir drowned in his own pool. Twenty-eight, obscenely rich, not one word left behind. The family offered five million and a private jet. By my count — my seventeenth husband. By a wide margin, the handsomest.
I said "I do" to a corpse for the seventeenth time. Then I called for his last words.
Silence. Sixteen weddings, sixteen voices. Husband number seventeen had nothing to say.
Because my seventeenth husband just opened his eyes.

I lent my Bugatti to my secret boyfriend for clout. He repaid my trust by gifting my car to a scheming cheerleader, letting her publicly humiliate and frame me. The whole school mocked me as a poor garage keeper’s daughter, unaware I’m the hidden billionaire heiress behind the supercar. Now I’ll destroy his fake rich life and avenge every insult.

For three years, I deliberately suppressed my grades to rank under my boyfriend William, paving his way to our promised Cambridge exchange. I overheard him and my best friend Maddie confess they framed me for plagiarism in my past life, driving me to jump off the 38th floor, yet they still carried on an affair. They lied and ignored my pain afterward. Heartbroken, I secretly applied to Cambridge alone. The twist? My years of hiding my brilliance were never selfless sacrifice. I collected all their dirty secrets. I’m going to Cambridge not to flee, but to ruin every dream they cling to.

My husband thinks a "tragic surgical accident" left me completely blind. Now, he's moved his mistress right into our house to be my nurse. They openly whisper about my life insurance while preparing my afternoon tea. They think a blind wife is the perfect prey. But are they sure I'm in the dark?

Cancer was supposed to be my death sentence. Instead, it became my liberation.

I thought I had it all—wealth, status, a picture-perfect life in Greenwich's elite circles. Then came the diagnosis that would change everything: six months to live. But facing my final chapter, I uncovered a truth more devastating than any terminal illness—the man sleeping beside me was slowly killing my soul.

When you have nothing left to lose, you discover exactly how powerful you can become.

My husband's first love, Celine, lured me to a remote cabin under the guise of an "apology."
 
She then poured gasoline all over the porch and locked the door from the outside.
 
In my past life, the moment the fire began to spread, I desperately called my husband, Julian—a fire captain—for rescue.
 
He smashed the door open and saved me.
 
Ironically, Celine's scheme backfired, and she died of smoke inhalation outside.
 
Yet, Julian pinned her blood debt entirely on me.
 
He kept me at the hospital with his hypocritical comfort, only to tear off his disguise the day I was discharged. He tied me to a pillar in an abandoned warehouse and poured gasoline at my feet.
 
As the flames ignited, my ten-week-old unborn child and I were swallowed by the raging fire.
 
Julian's eyes were bloodshot. Facing my agonizing screams, his gaze held nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred:
 
"If you hadn't gone mad with jealousy and locked the door from the inside, Celine would never have died! Stop playing the victim!"
 
"The pain she suffered before she died... I'm going to make you pay for it ten times, a hundred times over!"
 
In the blazing light, he watched coldly as I was burned alive, turning into a charred corpse.
 
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment the fire started to spread.

At the annual charity gala, I stood in the spotlight as the student representative.

My roommate, Harper, suddenly stormed the stage, publicly accusing me of being a sugar baby who seduced her father.

"That diamond necklace around her neck was bought with my dad's money!"

I instantly became public enemy number one. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of boos, and the administration, caving to the pressure, prepared to expel me on the spot.

Facing the out-of-control screaming and the countless live-stream cameras shoved in my face, I pulled out my phone and dialed the so-called "sugar daddy" right there in front of everyone.

"Dad," I said coldly. "Since when did I get a new 'sister'?"

The day I secured the finale at New York Fashion Week, my adopted sister was in a car crash that left her completely blind.
And so began a ruthless campaign to destroy my life.
Listening to me prepare for the runway, she touched her heavy gauze bandages and wept bitterly. "You're so brilliant, Valora. Not like me... I'm just a useless, blind burden."
To placate her, our brother burned my core design sketches to ashes.
On the day of the show, my finale haute couture gown was maliciously slashed to ribbons. My reputation was left in ruins, and every single sponsor pulled their funding.
Later, she live-streamed her suicide attempt from a rooftop, sobbing that a disabled girl like her didn't deserve to be loved.
My husband dropped to one knee in front of the entire world and slipped the custom diamond ring—my ring—onto her finger.
That very night, I was dead-bolted inside my roaring, fire-engulfed studio.
With toxic smoke searing my lungs, I dialed my husband's number for help, only to be met with his frustrated, impatient voice:
"Serafina is blind! The fire alarms have her terrified! Stop being so damn petty and jealous right now!"
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of her accident. The day she faked her blindness.

Not long ago, my pregnant daughter was murdered, and the killer remained at large.
Until that day, as I stood before her grave, her husband Oliver asked me,
"Mom, do you know who Robin is?"
"Stella came back from her prenatal checkup one day and said she bumped into Robin," he choked out. "She even said she wanted to take the baby to visit him."
My hand, reaching out to comfort him, froze in mid-air.
Because Robin was no good man—he had once tried to harm Stella.
That name was her lifelong nightmare. She wouldn't even dare look at a picture of a robin in a book.
And that name was a secret known only to me and my late husband.
So... who exactly is lying?

I waited five years for a heart transplant.
My mother—the Luna of our Pack, the healer everyone worships—gave it to someone else.
An orphan girl she took in. A girl who now calls her "Mom."
Ivy got my heart. She got a wolf. She got a mate and a wedding so grand the whole Pack attended.
Me? I watched from the corner, still dying, while my mother smiled for the cameras and accepted praise for her "selfless sacrifice."
When I finally snapped at the ceremony, she slapped me. Told me to apologize. Said I was embarrassing the family.
I'm her actual daughter. I'm the one who can't shift, can't feel a mate bond, can't survive another six months.
But sure. I'm the problem.
They wanted me to stay quiet and die gracefully.
I chose to make sure everyone sees who their perfect Luna really is.

On our fifth anniversary, Caspian gifted me a luxury yacht bearing my name. Everyone said I was the luckiest woman alive.
But when I finally conceived his child and prepared to share the news, his mistress sent me photos—him cradling a baby she'd given him, his eyes filled with a tenderness I'd never seen.
Five years of waiting, five years of infertility—all an elaborate lie.
He once whispered in my ear: "Even if every man in the world betrays his wife, I never will. You're my life. Without you, I can't survive."
I quietly packed, left behind my pregnancy report and all the evidence, and drove away. Three hours later, he received the call: my car exploded on the highway. No survivors.
From that day on, the most powerful man in Valen City lost his mind completely.

"The Draganovs are moving on Celeste tonight. I'm taking her to the safe house. We'll do the claiming after this, Orla. I promise."
That's what my husband said the seventh time he chose Celeste over me.
Celeste. The girl he'd loved since before he had a wife to ignore.
The first time, she heard footsteps outside her window at two in the morning. Rafael sent his whole detail to sit on her house and left me at a meeting with two men who wanted our shipping routes and didn't like being told no. I came home with a bullet crease across my ribs. He apologized for a week.
The third time, someone tipped the cops on one of our warehouses and she got scared. He drove her upstate himself. I took a knife at the door because there was no one left standing in front of me.
By the sixth time, he didn't explain. He just texted the doctor to be ready for me and left.
He's a Don. When the guns come out, he walks away clean. I'm the one wearing his name where everyone can see it. The one they aim at first. Six scars say so.
Every time, he held my face after and promised. Founders' Day. In front of every family in the city. Once Celeste was safe. I believed him six times.
So when the seventh time came and he chose her again, my bags were already packed.
There won't be an eighth time he sends me out to die for her. Next time, there won't be a wife left for him to send.

I was reborn on the day my baby was murdered, and the first thing I did was send my son away from the Hale estate. When I returned to the party, a black stroller was floating in the pool. Everyone thought the dead child was mine. They told me I could have another baby while they protected the ten-year-old girl who had pushed the stroller in. Then my father arrived with my living son in his arms, and the child dragged from the trash compactor turned out to be the killer’s own baby brother.

For the tenth time, James Smith left me behind because of a call from his female student.
But it was as if I had become a different person—I no longer doubted that there was something ambiguous between James and his student.
Even on our wedding anniversary, when he abandoned me in the remote mountains for Sophia's sake, I bore no resentment.
Eventually, James began to sense something.
"Emily, you seem different," he said.
I shook my head with a smile.
Because I had simply made a different choice from the one in my past life.

Six weeks after his girlfriend had twins, my husband got himself fixed. He billed it to my insurance.
Then he spent nine years driving me to fertility clinics. Two surgeries. Four rounds of shots. He held my hand every time and told me next time.
The whole town said it was my fault. His mother asked me every Sunday if there was any news.
I died at forty-four. Three days before the end I couldn't open my eyes, but I could hear them over my bed. The girl I bought a purple bicycle for called him Dad.
Then I opened my eyes and I was thirty-four again, on a gurney, waiting for them to open me up one more time.
Last time I lay back down and let them do it. I did it three more times after that.
This time he's paying me back for all nine years, one line at a time.
The nurse asked me to confirm my date of birth. I did. Then I told her I wasn't doing it.

I spent three hundred years winning Varen Ashworth's war. Bled for him. Handed him my army, my secrets, the healing blood from my own chest. He'd be nothing without me.
On his coronation day, he announced his queen—and it wasn't me. It was Elara. Some trembling, doe-eyed girl he'd pulled out of a Demon camp. He told me I could stay on as her handmaid.
I laughed, voided the contract, and walked out.
Because I've lived this life before. Last time, I exposed Elara. Saved his throne. He thanked me—then slaughtered my entire bloodline.
This time, I'm not saving anyone.
This time, I'll watch him figure out exactly what kind of woman he picked over me. And when his whole world comes apart—he'll be on his knees, begging the one person who could've stopped it.
I won't be listening.

After the crash, my husband, Darius, lost his ability to speak. The trauma to his cervical spine left him unable to even lift a finger.
The doctors said his only remaining way to communicate was to nod, or to shake his head.
Sitting by his hospital bed, I finally asked the question that had been eating away at me for three months.
"When the crash happened... were you on your way to see your mistress?"
Darius stared dead at me. Then, slowly, he nodded.

I was just on the phone with my husband. He was stuck in traffic, apologizing for being late to our anniversary dinner. Forty minutes later, detectives are at my door, claiming he died in a crash three days ago. If Silas is dead, who just sent me a text?

At my boyfriend's exhibition party, I went into anaphylactic shock after eating the cake Mia handed me.
I stumbled, reaching for my EpiPen, only for Mia to snatch it out of my hand and crush it under her heel.
"Give... it back..." I choked out, grabbing onto my boyfriend's arm.
He just shook me off, disgusted. "Chloe, can you stop being so dramatic? It's not that big a deal."
"Yeah, Mia's basically family," one of his friends chimed in. "You're being way too jealous and controlling."
Nobody was listening to me anymore.
With the last of my strength, I pressed down on the hidden button on the side of my watch — the one I'd never had to use before.

At last season's Grand Olfactory Gala, Vivienne Harrow presented my formula before I could reach the stage.
I confronted her. She asked where my proof was.
I had nothing. The formula had never left my head — no notes, no records, nothing. I didn't know how she'd gotten it.
I died not knowing.
Then I opened my eyes, and she was already reaching for me.
"Not this time."
I stepped back.

In my last life, I was the one who stopped it.
The second I recognized what was in that cup—a cold medicine loaded with compounds that end any pilot's career on contact with a drug screening—I knocked it out of Ivy's hands. Reid shoved me so hard I hit the coffee table. He got his four stripes anyway. Then he publicly destroyed my reputation, stood by while his fans harassed me off the internet, and smiled when I was pushed down a flight of stairs.
I died knowing he never looked back.
This time, I come back as myself: senior aviation medical officer, five years into a relationship with a man I now see clearly. When Ivy holds out that same cup with that same bright smile, I already know exactly what's in it.
I take a step back.
"Drink it while it's hot," I tell him. "Don't leave a drop."
I spent one lifetime being everyone's safety net. Not this time.

My two best friends killed me over a girl who'd been dead six months.
Lila Bishop never got a single offer. So she cried and clung until Cole and Wes were ready to throw away their full rides and follow her to nowhere. I tried to stop them — they called me jealous and cut me off. So I went over their heads. I called their moms. I fixed their signing papers myself, the night before the deadline.
Six months later Lila was gone, and they blamed me. They dragged me to the roof of our gym and threw me off.
Then I opened my eyes — three months back, the day it all started.
Last time, I broke myself trying to save them.
This time, I'd let them jump.

I'm just a stay-at-home mom. Old T-shirt, secondhand car, nobody ever looks at me twice.
At the school fundraiser, my husband's mistress put a peanut in my seven-year-old's mouth. He's severely allergic. As he choked on the grass, she crushed my hand under her heel and kicked his EpiPen straight into the lake.
"One worthless little life," she said. "So what if it's gone."
She's wearing my clothes. My jewelry. Spending my money. She calls me trash in front of the whole school and threatens to have my legs broken.
She thinks she's untouchable, because she's the wife of a Wall Street golden boy.
What she doesn't know is that every dollar he has, every thread she's wearing, even the air she's breathing — all of it belongs to me.
I walked away from that world to raise my son in peace.
She just gave me a reason to come back.

Three years ago, my fiance Marco Ferrante walked out on our engagement for his mistress Vivienne Salas — and now they're both back, kicking in my door and screaming that my baby isn't his.
He's right. It's not his.
It belongs to the most dangerous man in Verrano.
And Marco just put his boot through the Devil's only heir.

After I took in my first love, she promised she'd always be good to me.
But after my mother died in a car accident, I found her in our home—with another man.
She told everyone Colin was her true love, that I was just a little brother she never wanted, and that I was the one who couldn't let go.
Everyone turned against me. My father had a stroke from the rage. Colin even had someone run me over—cost me an eye.
Seven years later.
I stood outside a convenience store holding flowers when I saw them.
Audrey's daughter looked at me with pity. "Mom, that man only has one eye... Is he selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

My brother Adrian said I was the one person who could make him drop everything.
I believed him—until his girlfriend came to our house.
She waited for Adrian to leave the room. Then she grabbed my chin, accused me of stealing her boyfriend, and slapped me across the face.
I was only three. She still warned me not to tell.
When Adrian returned, she smiled and said I had fallen.
But the red fingerprints on my cheek told a different story.
So did the camera above us.

On National College Decision Day, my two childhood best friends announced they were ditching the Ivy League to follow a scheming charity case to a garbage community college.
In my last life, I informed their parents.
It worked. Their futures were saved, but they killed me for it.
"Let go of me!"
Hayes had my wrist in a death grip, dragging me toward the edge. Ezra stood behind him, hands in his pockets.
"If you hadn't interfered, Willow would still be alive."
"Now it's your turn."
Then I was falling from the stadium bleachers.
I opened my eyes. Decision Day again.

“On your hands and knees,” he commanded.
His voice was filled with weight and urgency
and I immediately complied before he steered my hips.
Our bodies slapped together with a punishing, angry rhythm.
I grew wetter and hotter as I listened to the sound of us fucking.
“Fuck, your pussy is insane.”

After a hot, one-night stand with a stranger she meets at a club, Dalia Campbell doesn't expect to see Noah Anderson again. Then Monday morning comes around, and the person that walks into the lecture hall as a professor is the same stranger from the club. Tensions run high and Dalia tries her best to stay away from him because she doesn't want to get distracted by anyone or anything - there's also the fact that he's strictly off-limits - but when she becomes his TA, the lines of their professor/student relationship get blurred.

Warning Explicit Content: Graphic sexual situations, language, triggers

New Place, New Life, New Everything...
Elicia Dewalt, an orphan from Texas with no ties to anything. Begins to find her "dream life" derailing quickly with strange occurrences and it always seems to lead back to the four gorgeous hunks at the club her first night in London.

What happens when her entire existence is blown to pieces with only a few words?

Follow Elicia as she discovers what hidden secrets have laid dormant, until her chance encounter with the four wild boys known as "The Watchmen".

A new, sexy standalone from #1 New York Times Bestseller, Vi Keeland.The first time I met Hudson Rothschild was at a wedding. I’d received an unexpected invitation to one of the swankiest venues in the city.Hudson was a groomsman and quite possibly the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. He asked me to dance, and our chemistry was off the charts.I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with him, considering the wedding I was at. But our connection was intense, and I was having a great time.Though the fun came to a screeching halt when Hudson figured out I wasn’t who I’d said I was. You see, that unexpected invitation I received? Well, it hadn’t actually been addressed to me—it was sent to my ex-roommate who’d bounced a check for two months’ rent and moved out in the middle of the night. I figured she owed me an expensive night out, but I guess, technically, I was crashing the wedding.Once caught, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. As I bolted for the door, I might’ve plucked a few bottles of expensive champagne off the tables I passed, all while the gorgeous, angry groomsman was hot on my tail.Outside, I jumped into a taxi. My heart ricocheted against my ribs as we drove down the block—but at least I’d escaped unscathed.Or so I thought.Until I realized I’d left my cell phone behind at the table.Take one guess who found it?This is the crazy story of how Hudson Rothschild and I met. But trust me, it’s only the tip of the iceberg.

Olivia Wilson's life like a fairy tale turned upside down in just one single night. A night that took her everything and gave her only a tag in return and the tag was "The Traitor's Daughter". A tag that she was determined to remove.

Olivia Wilson was living a perfect life till the age of 12. Her life was fulfilled with happiness and the people who used to increase her happiness more were The Alpha's Sons who are non-identical triplets. They promised to protect her and prayed to the Moon Goddess to make them her mates. Everything in her life seemed to go perfect until one day, her father Oliver Wilson was falsely accused by the Gamma, of killing the Luna and paralyzing the Alpha. Her life took an opposite turn, everyone who used to love her started hating her. The Triplets who promised to protect her turned into the ones she needs to be protected from. She started facing thousands of brutal torture and the Gamma who was involved in those dirty games made her life a living hell.

All those hurtful words and torture couldn't tame her, she was determined to prove her father's innocent but one thing that broke her completely was when her acceptance of the prayer she made in childhood turned into her worst nightmare. And what made it worse was they had other plans than rejecting her.

Note: This book is a collection of "The Traitor's Daughter" and "Nothing More than a Bully".

Racheal's life has been full of suffering since her mother passed away. As the president's daughter, she should have been treated well, but her step-mother maltreated and tortured her even when she became an adult. She thought she could run away with her boyfriend Maxwell, who swore to marry her. However, he broke his promise and left her alone.Now, Racheal has no one to protect her from her family's harshness and cruelty. Her situation worsens when they force her to marry their enemies and do dangerous things. Will Racheal survive this ordeal and find true love in this marriage? Or will she die trying?Racheal's life has been full of suffering since her mother passed away.
As the president's daughter, she should have been treated well, but her step-mother maltreated and tortured her even when she became an adult. She thought she could run away with her boyfriend Maxwell, who swore to marry her. However, he broke his promise and left her alone.Now, Racheal has no one to protect her from her family's harshness and cruelty. Her situation worsens when they force her to marry their enemies and do dangerous things. Will Racheal survive this ordeal and find true love in this marriage? Or will she die trying?

❤️‍🔥This Month's Editorial Obsession: A love story so heartbreaking, so beautiful—missing it would be a crime.❤️‍🔥

He forgot her. She never forgot him.
The crash of waves still triggers memories of Leon—how he chased her along the shore, how he lifted her effortlessly while she giggled and twisted in his arms. She can still feel the moonlight on wet sand, still remember the night he made love to her as they had forever. They were young, wild, and free. They were the past.

Layla never intended to return to his world. But when your daughter is dying, and only one man has the bone marrow match to save her, choice becomes a luxury you can't afford.
Zaley Raines. The city's most dangerous ruler. Cold. Untouchable. Lethal. And her daughter's only hope.
He agrees to help—but his eyes linger on her face like he's searching for something buried deep. Some forgotten ghost. Some stolen memory. He doesn't recognize her.
But Layla knows exactly who he is. Leon. Her first love. Her daughter's father. The boy who promised to save her from despair—before his memories were stolen, rewritten, erased.
Something about her pulls at him, familiar and consuming. He wants answers. She can't give them. Not when the truth could shatter everything they've built from the ashes of what they lost. But when fragments start surfacing—flashes of a redhead in his arms, promises written in sand, a love he doesn't remember losing—Zaley stops asking questions.
He starts taking answers.** And when he finally remembers everything? The real danger begins.

Victoria Sy’s seemingly ideal life falls apart as she discovers her husband’s infidelity. Fueled by a desire for vengeance, she embarks on an unexpected revenge mission with Zander, her husband’s mysterious half-brother. As Victoria embraces her newfound freedom, she must navigate the perilous waters of love, betrayal, and self-discovery, redefining what it means to be genuinely alive.

A thrilling novel of financial and political suspense and intrigue, The HAWALADAR recounts one man's ill-conceived attempt to meld the highly regulated culture of modern commercial banking with that of the parallel, underground netherworld of Hawala, a world-wide network of shadowy money-movers whose services are ideally suited to the needs of such nefarious clientele as organized crime, drug cartels, rogue governments and modern-day terrorist organizations. Tariq Nasir, is a brilliant, dynamic Pakistani-American, who is amassing significant wealth via a fast-growing international business empire, structured to commingle modern business systems and technology with the highly secretive commercial practices of the old world and Hawala. The attempted assimilation of controlling interest in a highly regulated U.S. financial institution, however, ushers in the gradual unraveling of a family business plan conceived in Pakistan years prior to Mr. Nasir's birth.Logan Hart, is a man who is no stranger to financial or international intrigue. Hired as number two executive at the Nasir-controlled Global United Bank of Chicago to assist in morphing the once local community bank into the kind of international banking organization conceived by the Nasir plan, the recently widowed, career banker and former special military operator questions the advisability of having accepted his new position when a series of strange events start happening shortly after his arrival. Doubt begins with the death of a much-beloved, old regulator from the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency, who is murdered while examining the bank. Partnered with Cassandra Price, the federal official assigned by the OCC to investigate the circumstances surrounding the untimely death of her associate, Hart finds himself unexpectedly attracted to the senior regulator, as the two help uncover an insidious plot by an Islamic fundamentalist terror group, who are planning a coordinated attack on several American cities with a biological weapon of mass destruction. The pair find themselves at the forward edge of the battle area in the War on Terror as they work with the FBI and agencies of the Department of Homeland Security in a race against time to avert a disaster of epic proportions.

All fae have a One--One person who strengthens their magic and enriches their life. A perfect mate. So why can't I find mine?

What is a fae princess to do when she can’t find the prince she’s meant to spend the rest of her life with? I have to find him now, for the sake of my kingdom. Evil forces are moving in, and the only way I can come into my full power is to find my perfect mate. If I don't, the magical barrier that protects us will crumble because my magic won't be strong enough to hold it.
But... I feel this strange pull to not one, but four, different men! What in the world is going on? Can I be mated to all four of these men and still save my kingdom, or will what seems to be an asset turn out to be our undoing?

The One is the first in a new reverse harem series by the author of Realm of the Chosen and Ember’s Flames. You must read all three books in the series to get the complete story.