8810 Book(s) Related to her sweetest revenge the unimaginable comeback

Sophia Johnson, a dedicated reporter, finds herself entangled in a passionate and complex love triangle. It all begins at an ex-CEO's retirement party, where she encounters Harry Stone, the irresistible billionaire heir and CEO of the company. What starts as a magnetic attraction soon evolves into a risky proposal.

Desperate to hold onto his CEO position, Harry suggests an audacious plan to Sophia: she should pretend to be his fiancée for five months, and in return, he offers her a substantial financial reward. Sophia, burdened by crushing student loan debts and the financial struggles of her family, reluctantly agrees. What she doesn't anticipate is the emotional rollercoaster this contract engagement will become.

As the charade unfolds, Sophia falls deeply in love with Harry, only to have her heart shattered when he ends their arrangement to pursue what he believes is his ideal partner. Despite being compensated for her role, Sophia carries a heart-wrenching secret—one she only discovers months after leaving the company: she is carrying Harry's child. The tumultuous nature of their contract engagement makes her hesitant to return to him.

Amid a whirlwind of love, desire, secrets, and betrayal, Sophia grapples with her feelings and the life-changing consequences of her decisions. Will Harry ever come to realize he has a child with Sophia, and will Sophia emerge from this web of deceit and passion with her heart and future intact?

To the rest of the world, Dante is Hollywood royalty, the ridiculously attractive oldest son of the notorious Fontaine family.

To Ashlyn? He's the guy who made her swear off men forever.

She just wants to move on with her life. Run her bakery. Heal her broken heart. She's had three years to try and forget about Dante Fontaine. (Spoiler alert: it hasn't worked.)

But when an accidental - and seriously humiliating - encounter brings him back into her life, she's forced to realize that no matter how hard she's tried to forget him, Dante definitely hasn't forgotten her.

. . . and this time, he's not going to let her go.

Due to explicit scenes, this steamy second chance romance is rated 18+.

The Sweet Taste of Sin is created by Ember Casey, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

She just wanted to start over.

After a childhood marked by trauma and invisible scars, Isabella Monteiro decided to live in silence, hiding her pain behind a charming smile.

But fate has never been kind.

Caught between two completely opposite worlds, Isabella finds herself at the center of a war for her heart.

On one side, Alexander Carter, the perfect CEO—sophisticated, polite, a man who seems to have stepped out of a dream. He protects her, respects her, and awakens in her the feeling of finally being safe.

On the other, Dante Navarro, a dangerous drug dealer with a gaze that can burn to the soul. Brutal, intense, and with an obsession that can destroy her... or free her.

Between Alexander's heaven and Dante's shadows, Isabella will discover that love can be her salvation... or her ruin.

She was barely born when she was already rejected, both by her mother and life itself. Upon birth, she was given up for adoption and spent just over fourteen years in the system. Through adolescence, she faced numerous hardships, including living on the streets and seeking help door-to-door.

She saw no way out until, by a twist of fate, she encountered a madam who offered her shelter. However, the woman's sole interest in the girl was to turn her into a sex worker to boost her own earnings. At first, she resisted everything and everyone, desperately seeking employment to cover her expenses. But six months pregnant, with no one willing to hire her, and with no options left, she decided to enter that life. It was then that she realized the true hell existed right here on earth. She experienced everything the world offered, and when her baby was born, he was kidnapped from the hospital by his paternal grandmother. Isabella's sole focus now was to gain power to rescue her child.

She ended up in the hands of a mafia member, who taught her everything to become the queen of crime.

In my past life, my rival and I were both top-tier Wall Street tycoons. I gave up my entire fortune for my fiancée, only to be set up by her and her lowly bodyguard, dying a miserable death in a pool of blood.

Reborn on the night of our engagement bidding, she sat on her high horse, demanding I hand over my hundred-billion-dollar empire.

All of New York was waiting for me to wag my tail like a good dog and sign the papers just to win her over.

But what she didn't know was...

The prestigious family she was so proud of was nothing but a rotting shell. The moment I cut off the secret cash flow keeping them afloat, her so-called "true love" wouldn't survive a single day in this vanity fair.

She thought she was choosing a pure, noble romance. In reality, she just bought a one-way ticket to hell.

Manhattan City Hall, ten minutes before the marriage certificate is issued.
I looked at the prenuptial agreement, what flashed through my mind was not a sweet future, but the tragic ending of my past life—prison bars, fabricated evidence, and my wife Selena's cold face in court.
me to hell without hesitation .
Having been reborn, this time I will not be anyone's stepping stone again.
The real game only began the moment the agreement was torn up.

My name is Leo Carson, I am eighteen years old, and I am dying.
Three years ago, my uncle Thomas stole the 500,000 Aurora Coins and the Awakening Potion that my parents left me with a fake psychiatric evaluation report, and threw me into the Rust Zone to die.
For the past three years, I have worked as a child laborer in a chemical plant, working sixteen hours a day and being treated like a dog.
Until Hela, the goddess of death, appeared and gave me the Book of Judgment . As long as I write down the other person's name and manner of death, they will die.
Now, those who have wronged me, it's time for you to pay your debts.

I severed our Mate Bond with my own hands.

In that moment, I lay unconscious, bleeding under the silvery moonlight, while he knelt some distance away, clutching his chest as if he had been hollowed out.

Once, he shielded me from nine silver stakes, only to crown another woman; he placed my protective pendant around her neck, then cast me into a water prison. He professed, “I love only you,” yet stood outside my hospital room, nursing her child as if it were his own.

I loathed him, resolved to leave.

I believed this was the end.

Little did I know, as I thought I had finally gained my freedom, he would chase after the debts of blood and regret, intruding upon the new life I was rebuilding—

To redeem a love that no longer sought redemption.

I was the hottest A-list actress in Hollywood, until a few deepfaked videos of me "abusing assistants" and malicious photos of my "rotting face" dragged me straight to hell.
In just one month, I became a monster despised by the entire internet.
Facing tens of thousands of death threats telling me to "die with a rotting face."
They wanted me to die crying. I didn't. Instead, I decided to express my deepest gratitude to the bullies who ruined my life.
And my "thank you" is going to cost a fortune.
But I never imagined the real monster wasn't hiding behind a screen—he was holding the syringe.

I used to think Jude was my one way out, my only salvation when my life fell straight into hell.
He pulled strings to get my mom into emergency surgery and helped me handle my dad’s funeral. He even promised he’d give me a home.
I believed him. So I married him. And for eight years, I let him take my blood every single month; he said it was for “routine health monitoring.”—Eight years, 9,999 milliliters.
Until that night, when I heard him with my own ears, talking to his friend:
“Lily’s blood type is rare. Lynn and her mom? They’re just ready-made blood banks.”
He didn’t marry me out of love. He married me to keep a “living blood bag” in hand.
I rested a hand on my still-flat belly and I laughed.
So this was what our marriage really was. From start to finish, it was a slaughter dressed up as love.
Fine. Then let’s see when it was time for the sacrifice, who ended up on the altar.

"Call me brother," he whispered, pressing me against the wall, his erection hard against my stomach.
For twelve years, we played this dangerous game. By day, I was his obedient foster sister. By night, I was his obsession.
He never went all the way—saving me for marriage, he claimed—but he did everything else. His fingers knew every wet corner of my body. His mouth had tasted my pleasure a thousand times. He groomed me to be the perfect toy for his bed.
"You're mine, Julie. Only mine."
But then Lena came back.
Suddenly, the bedroom door was locked. Suddenly, I heard her screams of pleasure instead of mine.
He didn't touch me anymore. He looked at me with cold, dead eyes and said, "You're just a sister. Stop acting like a jealous lover."
He threw away twelve years of intimacy for a fresh body.
I packed my bags, leaving behind the lingerie he bought me, the toys we used.
When he finally realized Lena was a fake, he came running back, eyes wild, wanting to claim what he thought was still his property.
"Spread your legs for me, Julie," he begged, reaching for me.
I slapped his hand away. "Go fuck your sister, Daniel. I'm done."

My wife had an affair.
Not only that, she casually indulged her lover over the phone, allowing him to crush the bones of my right hand, known as the "Hand of God," right in front of our six-year-old child, with a stomp of his shoe. I could never hold a tool again.
Natalie thought I was just a poor, pathetic loser earning a dead-end salary, so she brazenly let her gigolo trample all over me.
But what she had no idea of was that her proud identity as a transnational female CEO was merely a toy casually tossed to her by the top old-money family I belong to in New York.
When dozens of bulletproof armored vehicles smashed through the gates and my father, the patriarch, descended like the god of death, her arrogant self finally crumbled like a stray dog.
She screamed and jumped into the icy, bone-chilling lake to retrieve the diamond ring I had discarded, wailing and begging to chop off her own hand to compensate me.
But I just held the stunning British Duchess in my arms, watching coldly as she fell into an abyss of eternal damnation.
This love, tainted with shit, whoever wants it can have it!

Everyone says I'm lucky— a noble lady from the Miller family, doors open for me when I walk out, heads bow when I come home.
But deep down, I know the truth. I live like a “spare”: covering for my father’s mistakes, taking the fall for my stepsister.
Even the bodyguard I thought I could rely on is only here for Emma.
I caught him using Emma's photo to relieve himself, heard his Underboss mock him for acting as a bodyguard to me, just to make Emma feel his heart.
He was my bodyguard, yet when danger struck, he shielded Emma.
When I lashed out at him, punishing him for Emma’s faults, he secretly returned the favor, giving me ninety-nine lashes in retaliation.
Finally, I agreed to marry into the Jones Family and became the “vegetative Don’s” wife.
I took the money, moved to Manhattan, and became the most dignified Mrs. Jones: keeping watch over a mute husband, at least no longer having to worry about a knife in my heart.

My wife and my best friend had been sleeping together behind my back for a long time. Once the apocalypse hit, they completely dropped the act. While I was still stressing over how we would survive, they threw me straight into a zombie horde—just to buy themselves a few seconds to escape.
Given a second chance at life, I chose to report the impending zombie outbreak to the government, securing my place as a top-tier protected asset for the nation.
But what I didn't expect was... my wife and best friend were reborn too.

After sleeping for a thousand years, I returned to the ancestral castle that was supposed to be mine.
Only to find my throne torn down and turned into an auction block for the black market, my territory carved up clean by traitors.
And my only pureblood descendant in this world was actually being auctioned off like livestock—covered in blood, chained up with a cheap dog collar around his neck.
The entire room of nobles and elites mistook me for the lowest kind of half-blood trash, mocking me as a rat too stupid to know when he was dead.
The usurper, eager to curry favor with the Abyss, shouted that he would drain me dry and offer my blood as a tribute to the three pureblood princes deep within the Abyss.
Then the void split open, and those three supreme princes—the untouchable monsters the world worshiped—truly descended.
Under the horrified gaze of more than a thousand nobles and elites, those three ancient monsters threw themselves at my feet, scrambling and crawling, wailing in terror without even daring to raise their heads:
"Your unworthy descendants... welcome the Ancestor's return!!!"

I was dying — and he was loving someone else.
I left.
Now he wants me back… but will I let him?

He filled my head with lies.
Then he set my world on fire.

Gavril Vaknin.
Richer than God.
Crueler than the devil.

And if he has his way…
My new fake husband.

A chance meeting turns into a once-in-a-lifetime offer.
The billionaire don needs a blank slate to turn into his perfect politician’s wife.
I’m homeless and desperate—what do I have to lose?

But Gavril is hiding secrets. Cloaked in lies.
Stepping into his world is a one-way ticket to a hell I won’t survive.

Did I do the right thing?
Or did I just sell my soul to a monster?

The first thing they took was my baby.

The second was my parents.

The third was my freedom, my eyes, and every reason to live.

My husband gave me to three men on our anniversary. He chained me in a doghouse while his mistress laughed. He fed me my own son’s remains and called it mercy.

He said I was dirty. He said I deserved it.

But the DNA test he trusted was a lie. The video was staged. And the woman he’s about to marry is the one who destroyed us all.

I tried to die. Four times.

Now I’m done trying.

They put a dead woman in the ground. They’re about to find out she brought hell back with her.

Ella is betrayed in her 25th birthday by her boyfriend, leading to a one-night stand at a bar. She Initially mistaking Eric for just a call boy, later, she discovers that he is actually an Alpha of a pack, leading to an unwanted pregnancy. She ran away without a trace, bearing and taking care of the twins alone. It's later turned out to be an interesting romance. What happens when Eric discover that the twins are actually his? Will Ella forgive Eric for betraying her?

When Nathan Hayes set the divorce settlement in front of me, he placed another file beside it.
A man's photograph lay on top.
Thirty-four. Single. A steady career, a home of his own, no complicated family obligations.
It was more thorough than a dating profile.
Nathan sat across from me, as calm as if we were making dinner plans.
“Evan Brooks is heading back to Charlotte next week. He's interested in getting to know you. His rehab center is hiring, too. You used to work in speech therapy. You could have a job and a place to settle down.”
I left the file untouched and picked up the divorce papers.

I was the most in-demand wedding planner in Boston. I'd run more than three hundred weddings, and not one of them had ever been off by a single second.

The only wedding I couldn't pull off was my own.

My fiancé, Graham, and I had been together for seven years, and everyone knew he was a perfectionist.

Everyone called his executive assistant, Sloane, Miss Punctual. She was also my best friend.

In Graham's eyes, Sloane was the gold standard, and I never measured up.

At our engagement party, I showed up one song late, and the first dance went to him and Sloane.

On Thanksgiving, I walked in two minutes late, and Sloane was already sitting in the seat saved for me next to his parents.

For the charter flight to Aspen, I was thirty seconds too late to board. The door closed right in my face, and Sloane flew off with her head on his shoulder.

We'd tried to get married seventeen times. Every single time, he stopped it halfway through and had Sloane stand in for me to finish the run-through.

For the eighteenth, I had all four screens in the ballroom running a synced countdown, and I'd practiced at home with a stopwatch for over two hundred nights.

But two seconds before I was supposed to say my vows, Sloane beat me to it and blurted out "I do."

Graham didn't even look at the screens. He just turned to me and said, "You're late again. The wedding's off."

That was when I finally got it. My timing had never been the problem. The problem was that the wrong woman was standing across from him.

He took Sloane's hand. "Watch closely. We'll show you one more time."

I took out the two wedding rings and slid one onto his finger and the other onto hers.

"Don't bother. Here's to your happily ever after."

My marriage to Matthew was a transaction, a substitute—everything except love. When his white moonlight came back, I was abandoned, diagnosed with gastric cancer, and carrying his child. His late regret could never bring back my life, nor could it keep our unborn baby.

"Where is my son?"
My husband wouldn't look at me.
I had just come out of anesthesia. The bassinet next to my hospital bed was empty — except for a stack of cash, a christening card, and a ring pinned to the corner of the card.
The card had another woman's name in the godmother box.
That woman walked in behind my husband. She picked up the ring and slid it onto her own finger.
"He's safe, sweetheart. We've been talking about this for months."
My husband is Damiano Marchetti. He runs the family that runs this city. The woman wearing the ring is his father's young widow.
The baby on that card is my son.
For four years now I have been the woman this house pretends not to see. The wife told to use the servants' entrance. The mother of a boy who calls another woman Mommy.
Last night I asked my husband for a divorce.
He laughed in my face.
He has no idea how much that's going to cost him.

On our seventh anniversary, my fiancé left me standing outside the courthouse so he could drive another woman to the hospital. It was the ninety-ninth time he'd called off our wedding for her.
That night, he booked the restaurant where we'd had our first date. He wore the tie I'd given him. For a few minutes, I let myself believe he finally understood.
Then he asked me to eat faster. She wanted dessert.
So I stopped counting. I signed my transfer papers, packed up seven years, and boarded my flight without looking back.
By the time he realized I wasn't bluffing, I was already gone. Now he's the one left waiting, and all the roses in the world won't bring me back.

I was four months pregnant when the truck hit my car.
I woke up on a gurney outside the OR, bleeding, half-conscious, thinking my husband was saving my life. Then I heard him through the door.
"The baby's gone. Her right hand is finished—her career's over either way. Just take her kidney now and put it in Mia."
My mother agreed. My father told him to switch my architectural draft to Mia's name before Friday.
Mia. The sister they'd raised for twenty years while I was missing. The sister whose body was failing. The sister my husband had apparently been in love with the whole time I was married to him.
I was supposed to die on that table. I wasn't supposed to hear anything.
But my phone was in my coat pocket, and the voice memo app had never stopped recording.
And now I had a choice to make.

On the day of my prenatal checkup, I found out my husband, Caleb, was sleeping with his student.
That night, I spiked his Pinot Noir with poison. I watched him collapse, convulse, and take his agonizing last breath. Then, I dragged his body into the basement and sealed it inside an oak wine barrel.
For five years, I raised our daughter, Nora, on my own. I thought the secret would rot in the dark forever.
Until she told me: Daddy speaks to her from under the floorboards every night. His voice sounds muffled, like he’s talking through a thick blanket...

I spent five years loving a man I secretly built from nothing—pulling strings, clearing obstacles, lifting him higher than he ever knew. Then one night, outside a private room, I heard him plan my future without me: a mistress's role, a generous allowance, and a smile to soften the blow. I walked away, burned every gift he'd ever given me to ash, and disappeared into three years of silence and purpose. By the time Damon Hale understood what he had thrown away, I was already someone he could never reach again.

Three years into our marriage, I believed I had married the man who loved me more than anyone in the world—until an explicit photo of a woman went viral.
The woman in the picture had my exact face.
Everyone was convinced I was the one who had cheated.
And my husband, Jarek, didn’t defend me. Instead, he pushed me straight into the court of public opinion, silently allowing everyone to believe I was the one who had betrayed our marriage.
Until I caught him with that woman in our bedroom.
Her name was Sabrina.
She was my identical twin sister.
That was when I finally realized that our entire three-year marriage had been a lie.
He had never loved me.
I was nothing more than a replacement for her—the woman he had lost and gone looking for.
And the cruelest part?
Even when I was carrying his child, even when he left me broken and bleeding, he still chose her.
I lost the baby.
And whatever love I had left for him died with it.
I filed for divorce.
He refused to let me go.

Rosalie spent two years loving the man she thought was her fated mate.

On the night everything was supposed to begin, he rejected her, chose another woman, and watched as she was thrown into the Abyss to die.

But she survived.

Saved by the one man she never expected…his younger brother.

Now she is back with a marriage nobody can break, a wolf that refuses to awaken, and secrets powerful enough to shake an entire kingdom.

As betrayal turns into obsession, enemies close in, and an ancient prophecy begins to unfold, Rosalie must decide who she can trust before the truth destroys everyone she loves.

Because sometimes the greatest threat is not losing your mate…it is discovering you were never meant to belong to them in the first place.

When fate rewrites the bond, who will survive the consequences?

On the night before my sister's bone marrow transplant, my parents confiscated my EpiPen and locked me in the attic.

Their "genetic consultant" warned them that the medication would contaminate the stem cells meant for my sister.

I had eaten the meal they provided—one secretly laced with lethal traces of nuts.

The resulting anaphylactic swelling was suffocating me completely.

I frantically bashed my head against the door. "My pen... Mom, I can't breathe..."

"Stop putting on a show!" Mom snapped through the wood. "That meal was entirely nut-free! Are you faking an allergic reaction just because you can't stand the thought of your sister finally getting well?"

Her footsteps retreated.

Agonizing pain and oxygen deprivation overtook me as I clawed at the floor until every one of my nails snapped off.

Until my breathing stopped completely.

Maya froze when the man who drew every eye in the room walked in. Her ex-boyfriend, who‘d vanished five years ago, was now one of Boston’s richest tycoons. Back then, he’d never hinted at his identity—then he’d disappeared without a trace. Seeing his cold gaze now, she could only assume he’d hidden the truth to test her, decided she was vain, and left in disappointment.

Outside the ballroom, she went to him as he smoked by the door, wanting to at least explain herself.

“Are you still angry with me?”

He flicked the cigarette away and looked at her with open contempt. “Angry? You think I’m angry? Let me guess—Maya finally finds out who I am and now she wants to ‘reconnect.’ Another chance now that she knows my last name comes with money.”

When she tried to deny it, he cut in. “You were a blip. A footnote. If you hadn’t shown up tonight, I wouldn’t have remembered you.”

Tears stung her eyes. She almost told him about his daughter, but stopped. He’d only think she was using the child to trap him and get his money.

Maya swallowed everything back and left, certain they would never cross paths again—only for him to keep appearing in her life, until he was the one lowering himself, humbly begging her to take him back.

“How cruel of you! You were the one who left when I was ready to fight for you. I searched the world for you, and now that I found you, you were betrothed to another man. Tell me how! How do I unlove you?”
Tears fall from both our eyes and the next thing we know, we are kissing each other, deeply and passionately, as if the two years of longingness for each other has finally been released.
_
Avery Anderson called "Ava" who is still a virgin in her early thirties is a career-oriented woman. She puts up her own business through her hard work and is envied by a lot of women because of her seven-year-long relationship with Seigfried Cohen, a hot bachelor in an accounting firm. Their relationship starts to fall apart as they get into a heated argument because of Ava's unfathomable sexual drive.
Determined to lose her virginity, she travels to Austria to unwind and get laid to whoever finds her attractive. There, she encounters a guy named Dmitri, a gorgeous sexy billionaire: an encounter that shouldn't have happened in the first place.
She will then, know a world, that she never expects to get addicted to.

She woke up naked, bound, and on display in a birdcage.

Her husband sat in the front row while strangers bid on her unborn son's organs. He believed the video. The DNA test. The other woman's lies.

They took her baby. They took her mother. They tried to take her mind.

So she let them think she was broken. She smiled through the electric shocks. She bent without breaking. She counted down to the surgery that was supposed to kill her.

But she wasn't counting down to her death.

She was counting down to theirs.

They wanted her heart?

She'll give it to them—still beating, as she becomes their judge, jury, and executioner.

Dark Revenge Romance. CW: non-con, graphic violence, pregnancy loss, captivity. Read with caution.

"Siblings don't do this," he murmured, his thumb tracing my jaw. "So tell me, Nyra... does he know you the way I do? Does he know what you're capable of?"
Three years ago, I escaped the empire that raised me.
I left behind my father's world of blood, violence, and impossible choices, determined to become someone else.
Someone ordinary.
For three years, I believed I had succeeded.
Until my father was murdered.
One phone call drags me back to the compound I swore I would never see again. But grief quickly gives way to betrayal.
The man I planned to marry isn't who he claimed to be.
Old enemies are hiding in plain sight.
And everyone wants something my father left behind.
Everyone has lied to me.
Everyone... except Raze.
He was my first mistake.
My greatest weakness.
The one man I could never truly forget.
Three years ago, I walked away from him.
He waited 1,095 days.
Now, he's done waiting.
As secrets buried for years begin to surface, I'm forced to face the woman I once was, the weapon my father spent years creating.
I came back wanting answers.
Instead, I found blood, betrayal, and a man who still knows exactly how to unravel me.
Now I have only two choices:
Become the weapon I was raised to be...Or die pretending I was ever meant for a peaceful life.

Will a man learn to love me if I’m good to him long enough?

I tried for seven years to warm his heart.
I thought if I just held on a little longer, he’d finally see me.
Because I loved him so deeply.

But what did I get in return?
His endless tenderness for another woman.
I pretended I didn’t care, until pneumonia landed me in the hospital.

On the day I was discharged, I found him standing there with our daughter, his whole world focused on caring for that woman.
Even my daughter, whom I’d raised with everything I had, wished that woman was her mother.

In that moment, my heart died completely.

I left the divorce papers, gave up custody, and walked back into the chemical industry.
So what if seven years of marriage had worn me down?
I was still the top genius in my field.

But the divorce I’d wanted so badly never went through.
The man who once couldn’t have been colder to me now held on to me tighter than ever.
Our daughter refused to leave my side.

When he found my divorce papers,
the always cold and arrogant man pushed me against the wall and growled:

“Divorce? You’re mine. For life.”

My boyfriend had refused to sleep with me for years.

I thought he was shy, inexperienced, or hiding something painful.

Then I found his journal.

In it, Adrian Shaw wrote that my stepsister had warned him I would despise a virgin who didn't know how to please me.

He hated the thought of touching another woman, he said.

He loved me.

But he had decided to practice anyway—for my sake.

I still believed we could fix it, right up until I heard him agree to meet another woman in secret.

So I gave him one last chance to tell me the truth.

He lied, crossed the line he knew mattered most to me, and expected love to erase the choice.

By the time he understood what I had actually wanted, another man was already waiting at my door—a man who had heard my standard years ago and remembered every word.

“Smile, Natalie,” Callum whispered before he walked onstage.

So I smiled while he thanked another woman for the crisis plan I had written. I smiled when he pinned my grandmother’s sapphire brooch to her dress. I even smiled when his message came in, canceling our nineteenth appointment at the county clerk’s office.

Then I walked out with our unsigned marriage license papers in my purse and called the one CEO he hated most.

By the time Callum realized I wasn’t waiting anymore, I had already taken my name, my work, and my future back.

Eighty-eight times.
That was how many times I had put on a white dress, or packed my ID, heading to the registry office to marry Harrison Churchill. And eighty-eight times, I ended up in an ambulance.
The first time, it was a street drive-by. A bullet tore through my shoulder just two blocks from City Hall.
The fifteenth time, a car bomb shattered three of my ribs.
The forty-second time, a steel frame plummeted from a construction site, cracking my skull.
......And this time?
The eighty-eighth time. A massive cargo container "accidentally" slipped from a crane at the docks, crushing my car.
Maybe, it’s time to say goodbye.

Four years ago, I gave birth to my son, Leo, at a private hospital.
But when I woke up from the anesthesia, there was no baby waiting for me.
Instead, there was a bank card loaded with an enormous amount of money.
I stared blankly at Adrian Moretti, who was standing by the hospital room door.
"Why are you giving me money? Where's Leo?"
He avoided my gaze.
Meanwhile, Serena Vale, who was sitting comfortably on the sofa, burst into laughter.
"I gave it to you. I adore little Leo. He's practically a miniature version of me when I was young."
She lifted her coffee cup and continued leisurely, "I'll be raising Leo from now on. He'll grow up to be the most cherished child in this family."
That was when I finally understood.
Adrian had given the son I'd nearly died bringing into this world to his father's new wife.
And a bank card was supposed to make up for it.
I grabbed the card and hurled it straight at his face.

On the third day after my death, Massimo got the call.
His arm was around another woman. He didn't even flinch.
"Dead is dead," he said. "Burn her, then call me."
He came to the crematorium two hours late. He took my ashes, dropped them on the floor, and stepped on them like they were dirt.
"Tell Tess," he said, "if she's still alive, she can crawl back and beg. If she's really dead, I'll dig her up and flog the corpse myself."
I was right there, screaming without a voice.
Later, he pulled out his phone and called my number. It went straight to voicemail.
"Tess Reinhardt," he said, his jaw tight. "If you don't pick up, you're dead to me."
He still didn't know.
I was already dead.
And he was the only one who would never believe it.

In order to rush to comfort his assistant whose apartment was leaking, Richard signed his name hastily without even glancing at the documents on the table.
I put away the divorce agreement with a wry smile.
When he and my son completely disappeared, he finally panicked.
Three months later .
He knelt down on the streets of Chicago in despair, begging me to remarry him.
My six-year-old son looked coldly at his biological father and said, "Get lost, you bad uncle! You don't deserve to be my dad!"

Ten years of knowing each other, today was our engagement.

I was the Holy Maiden of the Silverglow Clan; Kane was the young lord of the Lunar Eclipse Clan.

The union of the two clans to resist the blood-clan beast tide together had been my wish since childhood.

But on the wedding day, in the sacred hall, my palm faced his, only the final blood pact remaining, when a woman holding a blood-stained swaddling bundle rushed into the hall and said it was his child.

Kane rushed down. He cut his fingertip and tested the blood; the royal mark lit up between the wolf cub’s brows.

He smiled—a gentle smile he had never once given me in three years.

The elder said, first take her as a concubine; the queen’s position would still be mine.

And I walked down from the altar and slapped him across the face.

“Break off the engagement.”

Remove the crown, sever the contract, withdraw three thousand wolf riders, take back the moon-steel weapons and the beacon array.

Kane said I was throwing a tantrum.

He did not know that from the moment I took off the crown, I had already calculated how to make him pay!

Five years into my marriage, I took off my Donna necklace at the Rossi family’s New Year’s Eve banquet and Noah still thought I could never leave him.
He stood by the long table with his mistress, Amelia, and said in front of every capo, “Some people will never measure up to her. Not even close.”
I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I just turned and walked away. On my way out, my cousin Lucas, my fixer, handed me a cup of coffee.
Three days later, he brought me two pieces of news.
Amelia was four months pregnant. And Noah was trading family territory to get his bastard child recognized by the family.
“What are you going to do?” Lucas asked.
I stared out the window, thinking about the red lipstick stain on Noah’s shirt. Thinking about the smug look in his eyes when he told me, “I only helped her because I felt sorry for her.”
“Wait,” I said. “Wait until they think they’ve won.”
What Noah didn’t know was I was still holding one last trump card.

"It's the night before you and Taylor's wedding, and you expect me to go to his bachelor party, break in - of course carefully - and make sure he doesn't have sex with a stripper?"
"Yes."
"You are crazy!"
Yes, Mary thought her best friend Amaya Peterson was really crazy, which actually showed that Amaya Peterson had no confidence in the man she was about to marry!
In fact, even Amaya Peterson didn't understand why she should marry a man who was going to cheat on her on the eve of the wedding? Why marry a man who didn't love her enough and couldn't even please her?
She had no choice but to push herself into a completely unknown fate!

Three months into their marriage, Stella Dawson had been diligently playing the role of a delicate, spoiled flower—pushing every button she could—until she finally drove the CEO to the brink of madness.
Alexander Sterling coldly tossed the divorce papers at her. "Let's get divorced."
Tears welled up in Stella's eyes, but inwardly, she was grinning from ear to ear. Good riddance to being the CEO's wife! I'm going back to being the richest woman alive!
Alexander was certain he’d never regret his decision.
That is, until he saw his ex-wife surrounded by admirers, amassing wealth, and dominating every industry she touched. Power players from all fields bowed before her, declaring, "Little sister, just say the word, and we’ll take down anyone who dares mess with you!"
Swallowing his pride, Alexander squeezed his way into the crowd of handsome men. "Sweetheart, I take it back. Let’s get back together."

Warning: Contains strong language, smuts, abuse and some really explicit content, please read at your risk. "Let go of me…" Arabella said. She grimaced, shaking her head. "Do you think I would let you go so easily?" He questioned, then tutted. Sandro's nostrils flared as he sniffed her hair wrapped in his hands, Vanilla and Strawberry. The innocent yet naughty scent he remembered her with. "That would never happen, Cara Mia." Arabella gasped as Sandro pressed his body into hers. She moved to shove him away but he grasped her hands and pinned them above her head before pointing the gun at her temple. Arabella shut her eyes tightly as the gun cocked. She inhaled and bit her tongue whilst saying her last prayer inwardly. She wanted to run far away from him. Away from the surface of the earth if possible. But she was certain no matter how far she went, he was going to find her. ------------------------------------- Arabella's life took a u-turn after falling into her enemy's hand. She should feel nothing for him, however. He made her lose all her senses, even her clothes. At the mercy of her foe, she discovers some secrets about him and wishes to unravel more, but got what she didn't bargain for. Alessandro, an Alpha werewolf assuming the identity of a mafia Lord. He was the most wanted criminal in COOAN, and his name incites fear in all werewolves' packs. He was a man fighting his demons and needs a saviour before he drowns. After a traumatic childhood event that left him scarred, Blaze often kept to himself and trusted no one until he met Arabella, whom he believed was the perfect mate sent to him by the moon's goddess. However, she was taken. The powerful urge to save her from her...

When Lena Vale's father dies, he leaves behind nothing but debt — and not the kind any solicitor can settle.
Bound by an ancient blood contract she never signed, Lena is given seven days to present herself at Ashveil Manor, deep in the shadow realm of Veth, and give one year of her life in service to Lord Dorian Ashveil — the most feared vampire in a world she didn't know existed. She arrives under protest. The estate, apparently, listens.
Dorian is nothing like what she expected. He is cold, yes — centuries old, commanding, and devastatingly careful with everything he allows himself to feel. But he is also unexpectedly honest. And he stands when she enters a room, every single time, as if she is worth the gesture.
Lena tells herself it means nothing.
She is wrong.
As the months pass inside Veth's eternal dusk, the line between captive and chosen begins to blur. But darker forces are closing in — a rival clan with a weapon that runs on Lena's blood, a secret her father sold that could destroy everything, and a choice that no contract can make for her.
She came to Veth to pay a debt.
She may stay for something far more dangerous.
Crimson Vow is a slow-burn vampire romantic fantasy for readers who like their heroines fierce, their heroes worth the wait, and their love stories earned one impossible moment at a time.

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.

"What is love!? Carmen did you just mention that!?" With his speaking of rage and burning in anger; he asked.

"Yes... I have always do— I love you" she mouthed with her words stressed.

"You can try and ignore me if you can... Only if you know how eager I am and how badly I want to tame you". With those promising words from her which left a dark creepy smile on her face; she walked out.

"Love did she just call it? Did she think I will fall for that shit? If only she knew how much love is a weakness to every man". He muttered to himself as he sat down worriedly.

As a mafia boss, he must not have compassion nor can he fall in love.

She is the only one who have that fits to talks bravely to him. Even with his powers, his strength have it's limitations as it went down when he is before her.

He's fearless,
Dangerous,
And kills without a sparing a second to think!
He kills to live and lives to kill!
The smell of blood is what he enjoy most!!!

The dangerous man never forgives anyone even if it is blood—"fuck blood relatives when it comes to the smell of blood!"

He's not just all about dangers but handsome! He's a demigod and every ladies hopes for just a nightstand with him.

A girl sold to him by ruthless father and stepmother changed everything...

*She's annoying
*She's irresistible
*She's hot
*She's the goddess of beauty

What follows when she do the undo—...

She's a spy sent to monitor him, find his weakness and win his heart, will she accomplish that? Won't she fall in love in the process? What if the devil finds out?

“Aah!” A moan slips free as he slides two fingers into me. “Azreal…”

“Tell me what you want, my queen,” he murmurs. “Let me worship at your altar like the goddess you are.”


Rebelle Larson has spent twenty one years haunted by the same nightmare, convinced she is slowly losing her mind. Then a mysterious man appears at her university, calls her Amirykal, and claims she is the reincarnation of the dead Queen of the Underworld he has spent five centuries searching for. Before Rebelle can dismiss him as insane, her mother is kidnapped by beings that should not exist. Forced to accept Azrael’s protection, Rebelle enters a supernatural world where the dead bow before her and ancient gods want her destroyed. As her forgotten powers awaken, Rebelle must uncover who she really is before the gods succeed in killing her for a second time.