637 Book(s) Related to true story christian movies

Julian and I played house for five years—minus the actual marriage certificate. Because he bailed on me at the registry office twelve times. All for Mia, some intern.

First time: Mia screwed up her pitch.

Sixth time: Mia had the flu.

Twelfth time: Mia's ex showed up at our architecture firm throwing punches. Julian had to play knight in shining armor. I got knocked into a desk, cracked my head open—he didn't spare me a glance before whisking her off to the ER.

Before, I would've lost it. Screamed. Sobbed. Begged him to tell me who the hell he was actually planning to marry. And every single time, Julian would sigh and say, "Chloe, really? She's just an intern. Practically a child."

This time, all I said was: "Go ahead."

Then I turned around and took that job overseas.

When his thirteenth text came through—yet another registry office reschedule—I was already at the gate for my London flight.

This time? I'm choosing me.

Seven years ago, I crawled on my knees to save Alex Benedetti's ass, and got marked as the bitch who betrayed him.

Seven years later, he came back as New York's deadliest mob boss. Lucy Ferraro, some spoiled mafia princess, was warming his bed while I was on my hands and knees scrubbing his floors.

He let his fiancée treat me like garbage. When I started coughing up blood, the son of a bitch laughed and said I had it coming.

He didn't know the brain cancer was eating me alive.

The day I died, Alex was putting a ring on another woman's finger. He never found out that the girl who took bullets for him—the one he destroyed—was already rotting six feet under while he was saying "I do."

A year ago, my ex abandoned me when I was broke and buried in debt, choosing the Russo family heiress instead.

On the day of his engagement party, he sent me a vicious text: "Wear a wedding dress to Plaza Hotel. Changed my mind. You're marrying me."

I showed up in white.

Luca and his crew waited at the entrance, ready to watch me humiliate myself.

He thought this was my degradation.

But what he didn't know was—I was getting married.

Just not to him.

To Dante Valentino—the most dangerous man in this godforsaken city.

I hid in shadows for six years while my vampire husband played duke with his mistress.

Lucian kept our marriage secret, called our daughter "the half-blood bastard," and rushed to comfort Seraphina's twisted ankle while five-year-old Vanessa nearly died from silver poisoning.

His precious lover had "gifted" my child deadly perfume. While I held my convulsing daughter, he was cutting cake with his real family.

So I handed him divorce papers during his next dramatic rescue mission. Fool signed without reading—too busy playing hero to notice he just legally abandoned his wife and child.

Now the mighty vampire Duke burns under holy sunlight, chasing us to territories his undead flesh can't survive.

Begging on scorched pavement for a second chance he'll never get.

My sister Chiara and I had fought over Matteo for more than a decade.

In my first life, I got my wish and married him. Everyone said he adored me, trusting me to manage the entire Salvatore family's books and money laundering operations. I worked myself to death, literally dying from exhaustion. On my deathbed, he coldly told me the truth: "I never loved you. You're the one who begged to marry me."

In my second life, I let Chiara have her chance. She bore him four children in five years, trying desperately to earn his love, only to die in childbirth. I rushed to her bedside for her final moments, and she cried out to me: "Matteo doesn't love me either... there's another woman in his heart..."

When I opened my eyes again, it was my third life.

This time, we would NOT make the same mistakes.

I died on the night of my eighteenth graduation party, pushed off a rooftop by the two people I trusted most.

In my past life, I was the ultimate fool.

When my two childhood friends—both heirs to top elite families—decided to throw away their futures, I panicked.

They actually wanted to reject their admission offers from Harvard and Yale.

All to follow Lily, a charity case from the slums, to a literal no-name trade school called Sunny Valley Vocational Academy.

I begged them to stop.

I even used my family's connections to try and get Lily into a legitimate university.

But Lily wept in front of them, claiming my money insulted her dignity, and that I was just jealous of their "pure love."

Liam and Noah completely lost their minds.

That night, they cornered me on the roof.

"Vivian, you killed Lily. Go to hell!"

As it turned out, Lily went to that trash school alone and committed suicide.

They blamed me entirely for her death, nursing that grudge until they finally pushed me into the abyss.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day we were supposed to lock in our college choices.

This time, count me out.

Three years barren, and Jessamine walked on thin ice in the elite household. Her mother-in-law spat venomous curses daily, calling her a "worthless waste of space" and threatening to force her son into divorce.

She could still remember when Damien had severed all ties with his family to marry her—kneeling outside their door in the pouring rain, begging his parents to accept her: "Jessamine is my one true love! I can't survive without her!" Back then, she was the only woman who existed in his eyes.

But now, for the sake of family inheritance, he had the audacity to demand her consent for his childhood sweetheart Celeste to bear their child. Jessamine endured the soul-crushing agony of watching her husband entwined with another woman, night after torturous night.

Even more devastating—after Celeste delivered a daughter, Damien had the shameless nerve to declare: "The family still needs a male heir."

In that shattering moment, Jessamine finally saw the brutal truth.

After eight years of dating, Declan Wright finally agreed to marry me.

But he had one absolute condition: no sunlight on our wedding day.

The rule was strictly to protect his childhood best friend, Daisy, who supposedly suffered from a severe UV allergy.

Over the next six years, I planned six different weddings.

Every single one was washed out by torrential storms.

Today, in our fifteenth year together, was our seventh attempt.

I thought I had finally gotten it right with a gloomy, drizzling afternoon on the Oregon Coast.

But just as we stood on the sand to exchange our vows, the heavy clouds parted.

A single, brilliant shaft of sunlight pierced through the gray, landing directly on my face.

Guests whispered it was a blessing.

Yet, before I could even say "I do," Declan bolted.

Grabbing a black umbrella, he rushed off the altar.

He pulled Daisy into his chest, spiriting her away into the deep shade of the trees.

I stood alone in my mud-soaked gown, watching their retreating silhouettes.

Slowly, I unpinned my veil and left the ring in its velvet box.

If he was always going to keep me in his shadows, it was time I found my own sun.

Three years ago, my best friend Juliana Pierce was raped and jumped from a twelve-story building. I was there. I saw everything. I know exactly who did it.

Alexander Knight—Juliana's boyfriend, brilliant scientist, the man I've secretly loved for seven years—has spent every moment since hunting for answers. He believes I'm shielding a predator. He's dedicated his life to making mine hell.

Now I'm dying of ALS, and Alexander's dragged my broken body onto his "Memory Judgment Stage" for the world to see. His new technology can rip memories straight from my brain and broadcast them as holograms.

"Tell them who killed Juliana," he shouted.

I refuse. So he cranks up the machine, letting the neural probes tear through my dying brain. My hand shatters. My body convulses. But I won't break.

Until the memories start bleeding out anyway.

And when Alexander sees the rapist's face—Completely loses his mind.

My best friend murdered me.

Before the team tryouts, Mia handed me a pink energy drink. I didn't know it was laced with sleeping pills.

Thirty feet in the air. Top of the pyramid. My body went limp, collapsing like a puppet with cut strings.

I can still hear my bones shattering.

Mia threw herself into my fiancé Carter's arms, sobbing: "Oh God, I grabbed the wrong bottle! The vitamins and sleeping pills got mixed up! Vic will forgive me, right?"

Carter held her tight, not even glancing at me lying in a pool of blood. "Stop crying. It was just an accident."

An accident? My spine snapped in three places.

He lied to the police, saying I was under too much stress and took the pills myself. Packaged my death as the suicide of someone who couldn't handle the pressure.

When I died, the whole school treated me like a joke.

But now I'd opened my eyes. I was back on that day.

He hung up on me while the killer's knife plunged into my body.

Seventeen seconds. That was our final call after seven years of marriage.

He was at the hospital with my "depressed" stepsister, convinced I was just being dramatic again. He didn't even let me finish.

I died that rainy night, taking a secret with me he'll never know.

Three days later, my husband—the city's chief medical examiner—caught a brutal case: female victim, face destroyed by acid.

He worked the autopsy with his usual precision. Methodical. Clinical. Until the facial reconstruction software completed its rendering.

When he recognized my face on that screen, blood exploded from his mouth.

He hit the floor hard.

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

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

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

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

My baby, Mommy is so sorry...

I married Massimo Salvatore, the mafia don, thirty-two times. And divorced him thirty-two times.

Every single time for the same reason—his precious Claudia came back from her overseas treatment facility.

"She took a bullet to the head for me. Any stress could kill her." That was his only explanation.

The first divorce, I trashed the entire living room. He slapped me across the face: "Cut the DRAMA. We'll get back together once she's stable."

The third time, I followed them to the club and caught them kissing. I confronted him—got locked in the basement for seven days.

Sign the papers, take off the ring, pack my bags. Like a nightmare on repeat.

Until the thirty-third time.

A rival family grabbed both me and Claudia. With a gun to his head, he could only save one of us. I looked at him, voice breaking: "Massimo, just this once, pick me."

He walked toward her.

Four hours later, his men found me in some abandoned warehouse. Three broken ribs, blood everywhere. Our baby—gone.

Massimo camped out by Claudia's hospital bed, wouldn't leave her side. Didn't visit me once. Not even when I got discharged.

That's when I was done.

Everyone in the Blood Moon Pack knew that our Alpha, Ethan Black, was devoted to his Luna, Elena Mourn.

Until he met his fated mate, Celine.

He wanted to sever our bond to be with her, but I refused. We became the pack's toxic couple—he resented me for not letting go, and I despised him for his betrayal.

To get rid of me without looking like the villain, this asshole staged a pity party—claiming a dark witch cursed him in battle, trapping his memories at eighteen, and now his wolf only responded to Celine as his "true mate."

"Elena, I'm stuck at eighteen... I still love you, but our bond is gone." His voice broke. "I'm so sorry for hurting you all these years. Maybe we're both better off apart."

Watching his fake performance, I said yes.

He thought he'd won, never knowing I went along because three years ago, I took a hunter's wolfsbane bullet meant for him. The poison had been killing me ever since. One week—that's all I had left.

Before I died, I wanted one last look at his eighteen-year-old self, even knowing it was all fake.

In my past life, my childhood friend—the star quarterback—threw away his Ivy League scholarship for some hood rat, even getting mixed up in drug deals. When I tried to pull him out of the gutter, I got shanked by gang members on a cold, rainy night.

Yet there he was at the police station, holding that trashy girl tight, telling the cops: "Emma had it coming. Always butting in, trying to run my life."

Second time around, I'm back to the day he begged me to cover for him with coach so he could take that girl to get an abortion.

I looked into his desperate eyes and gave him my sweetest smile, taking the fake sick note: "Don't worry, I've got you covered."

I died for you last time. Your turn now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one picked up.

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

That's when Declan finally came apart.

The housekeeper’s daughter just locked me out of my own Bentley.

"Bob, drive," Ella Brooks—the school's untouchable Queen Bee—ordered my chauffeur. She leaned into her boyfriend, Ryan Harrington, shooting me a look of fake pity. "My family already pays her tuition. Charity cases don't get free rides."

A bunch of kids nearby laughed, always eager to kiss up to the fake heiress. Ryan glared at me like I was actual trash. "Maya, if someone puts a roof over your head, show some respect. Know your place."

The tinted windows rolled up. Tires squealed, leaving me choking on exhaust.

I stood on the curb, watching my car speed off. She had hijacked my entire life to play school royalty and snag a wealthy guy, convincing everyone I was the freeloader.

I was so pissed I actually laughed. She mistook my low profile for weakness.

She wanted to play the billionaire's daughter? Fine. Playtime is officially over.

Curfew night. Storm-black sky. My werewolf husband racing his red fox mistress through the no-fly zone like it's a goddamn game.

Ivy's wasted, craving adrenaline. She banks hard into my son's flight path.

Impact. Explosion. Metal rain.

Silas cradles his sobbing side piece while my boy's helicopter spirals into hell:

"Easy, sweetheart. You're breathing, that's what counts. Little punk got himself killed being stupid—not our problem."

Hours later, after they've hosed the wreckage off the runway:

"Roxanne? Your mother and son are ash. Come identify the remains."

I'm ready to burn the world down when my phone lights up:

Mom! Me and Grandma are at the underground fights. Holy shit, what exploded out there? Some poor bastard just got roasted!

They never flew.

So whose charred corpses are cooling in the morgue?

My reward for my father dying for the Alpha? A guaranteed forced bond with one of his two sons.

I chose the golden child, Ronan—and paid for it with my life.

Reborn on the day of the ceremony, I didn't hesitate. I pointed straight at Darius, the terrifying outcast brother everyone warned me about.

To hell with Ronan and his fairy tales.

But there's one sick twist I didn't see coming: Ronan remembers our first life, too.

And this time, he's the one who's going to beg.

"We promised each other ten PM calls every single night, no matter what was happening in our lives."

That promise used to mean everything to Eric, until it became nothing but busy tones and angry hang-ups while some other woman's perfume lingered on his shirts. The signs were all there, but I kept dialing anyway.

On cancer diagnosis day, I called him nine times and watched each call go straight to voicemail. When he finally answered the tenth, Stella was giggling in the background and all he said was, "Wren, seriously, stop being such a pain in the ass."

I choked down my bloody pills, stared at my engagement ring, and felt the strangest thing—absolutely nothing. The pain had just vanished.

I dropped the ring next to the signed papers and disappeared from his world.

My phone screen lit up the dark nursery.

It was Lily's fifth birthday. I lay next to my sleeping daughter and stared at Chloe Harrington's latest Instagram post.

The caption read:

[Bedtime is so hard without a dad. Thank God he dropped everything to be here tonight.]

The photo showed a man lying on a bed, reading a story to Chloe's son. That man was my husband, Arthur Sterling.

I swiped down on my screen. Right above the Instagram notification was a text Arthur had sent ten minutes ago.

[Tied up at work. Don't wait up for me, Eleanor.]

My heart went numb. I liked Chloe's photo, closed the app, and called my divorce lawyer.

On our ten-year anniversary, my billionaire boyfriend unclipped my safety harness and shoved me off a skyscraper.

I hit the safety net so hard my bones cracked. It knocked the wind out of me. When the panicked staff finally dragged my bleeding body back up, Brooks didn't even check if I was alive.

He was busy smiling at Maddie.

Maddie Sinclair is his rich childhood friend. She is autistic, and watching me suffer is her absolute favorite thing.

"Do it again, Brooks! Look at her face!" she laughed, waving her phone at him.

Brooks just looked relieved. Her autistic meltdown was over. All it took was almost snapping my neck.

Over the last ten years, this was my life.

When I lost my job, he bought a banner to celebrate with her.

When I was in a car crash, he let her stand outside my hospital room and laugh at my injuries.

Every year on her birthday, he made me dress up as a clown just to keep her entertained.

He knew pushing me without a harness could have killed me. But keeping his friend happy was all that mattered to the great CEO.

I only took the abuse because I needed his money.

But as my own blood dripped into my eyes, blurring his face, I was just too tired.

I finally wanted to give up.

Ryan Aldridge had one rule: he showed up for whoever needed him most.

The problem was, it was never me.

Throat swelling shut in the ER? He was unclogging Sloane Harrington's drain. Anniversary dinner? He left between courses because Sloane was "spiraling."

I forgave it every time. I was the cool girl. The understanding fiancée.

Then my studio caught fire, and a beam came down on my chest.

I lay there—bleeding, pinned, choking on smoke—and watched Ryan vault over me to carry out a woman with a sprained ankle.

"Jocelyn, come on. You can handle this. Look at her—she's shaking."

Something in me went still. Not broken. Finished.

I twisted off the ring with blood-slick fingers and let it disappear into the ash.

Then I disappeared too.

"Arthur, I want a divorce."

My husband was busy draping his suit jacket over Chloe's shoulders, his precious childhood sweetheart. He didn't even turn around, just let out a cold laugh.

"Oh, Evelyn. Playing the sick father card again? That trick's getting old." His voice was dismissive. "I moved your dad out of that private room to teach you a lesson. Maybe now you'll learn some manners around Chloe."

He was so certain I'd come crawling back like I had for three years, begging him to pay for Dad's treatment. So sure I'd be sobbing apologies by tomorrow morning.

What Arthur didn't know was that three hours ago, they'd wheeled my father's body into the cold hospital morgue.

And the divorce papers in my purse were already signed. I didn't need his money anymore.

Five years ago, my ex-boyfriend Jason said coldly when he abandoned me: "Charlotte, you're not worthy of my dreams."

Five years later, when I saw him again, he had become Floreton's tech mogul while I remained a simple sculptor. His new fiancée—a wealthy heiress—sneered at my modest attire: "Someone like you can actually afford to book a top-tier wedding venue?"

She stole my venue, crushed my fingers, and forced me to kneel and apologize: "Say you don't belong here!"

Jason stood by watching coldly, just as indifferent as he was on that rainy night five years ago.

I desperately thought this was my fate, until that familiar, furious voice echoed throughout the entire venue:

"What bastard touched my woman!"

My Bradley had arrived.

This time, I would be the one laughing last.

My husband stole credit for my work, gave it to his girlfriend, and waited for me to say thank you.

He assumed I'd never leave, so he missed me selling our apartment, cutting off his money, and meeting with divorce lawyers.

When he graciously offered me a second chance, I just smiled: "Thanks, but we're already divorced."

They left me to freeze to death in our basement freezer.

The night before prom, my foster sister Leila came crying that I'd burned her Ivy League recommendation letter. My birth parents didn't even listen to one word of explanation—they threw me into that frozen hell in forty-five below.

I beat on that door until my fingers were shredded, screamed until my throat tore apart, but all I could hear from upstairs was their laughter celebrating Leila. Even Justin—the boy I'd loved since we were kids—texted calling me a fucking psycho.

As I drew my last breath, I heard Leila's soft voice outside the door: "Rest in peace, sister."

Now I'm a ghost, watching them lose their minds when the truth comes out.

They left me to die in a burning lab while saving my faker sister. Big mistake.

I hadn't slept in six months, perfecting the neural serum that would save Mom's life. One vial. One chance. Then my adopted sister Mia grabbed it and smashed it on the floor, sobbing about how cruel I was to a "disabled" person.

Mom and Dad ate it up. My fiancé Ryan nodded along—probably because he was banging Mia every chance he got. When fire trapped me in the lab, they carried out "paralyzed" Mia and left me hammering on reinforced glass, choking on smoke.

Want to know the best part? That manipulative snake hopped out of her wheelchair and sprinted to safety the second she thought no one was looking.

Second chance at life? Hell yes.

I'm watching Mia lift that test tube again, ready to destroy everything. But instead of lunging forward like last time, I lean back in my chair.

"Smash away," I say with a shrug. "I'm not the one who'll suffer."

Let's see how this plays out when I'm not the naive fool.

Five years ago, my family burned to death in an "accident."

My loving husband Clifford signed the papers himself—shipped me off to a mental institution without a second thought.

Inside, Becky carved up my face with shattered glass. The same orphan I'd put through school. Then she rebuilt herself to match my features and stole my life—my husband, my son, everything.

Now she marched into the clinic where I scrub floors, dragging my biological child behind her, demanding I apologize to him like some servant.

She has no idea what kind of monster she created.

Ninety-nine times.

I was sent to the punishment chamber ninety-nine times by my mafia don fiancé.

Each time, he watched through bulletproof glass with cold, detached eyes—watching me being deprived of sleep, injected with drugs, tortured until I was barely clinging to life.

"Elara, you're paying for what you did to the Mancuso family."

For the sake of sweet, innocent Yvette—his precious savior—he personally destroyed everything I had.

After the ninety-ninth time, the doctor handed me a critical condition notice. I stopped begging, signed the confession, and vanished completely with my broken body.

The result? When the truth finally came to light, the ruthless don went completely insane.

My parents and twin sister faked their own deaths so she could steal my college acceptance.

I believed it. Sobbed until I couldn't breathe when the cops showed me photos of the burnt yacht. Thought my words—"I hope you all die"—had somehow made it happen.

Two weeks later, I found my sister's backup Instagram: "Finally ditched the boring sister! Bahamas is paradise 🏖"

Something inside me snapped.

Wanna play dead? Stay dead.

I took their death certificates. Canceled their social security numbers. Drained every joint account—every last cent. Sold the house to John, the kind of guy even cops don't mess with.

One month later, they came home tanned and loaded with designer bags, expecting to find me broken on the streets.

What greeted them instead were cold gun barrels pointed at their heads.

After struggling with infertility for years and being betrayed by her lover, Ella finally decides to have a baby on her own.
However everything goes wrong when she gets inseminated with the sperm of intimidating billionaire Dominic Sinclair.
All of a sudden her life is turned upside down when the mix up comes to light -- especially because Sinclair isn't just any billionaire, he's also a werewolf campaigning to be Alpha King!
He's not going to let just anyone have his pup, can Ella convince him to let her stay in her child's life? And why is he always looking at her like she's his next meal?!
He couldn't be interested in a human, could he?

When Evelyn found her husband had been cheating with her young sister on their honeymoon,She was heartbroken and ended up having the best ONS with a hot stranger. 6 years later, Evelyn becomes a single mom of genius twins. They are doing a live to find their dad on the famous Quiz Nation.Him to his beta: The boys are mine! Find her!

I’m a new grad human in huge debt, and cheated by my Omega bf.
When I got wasted in a bar, I didn’t expect to have the best sex ever.
And the very next morning, I also didn’t expect to wake up and find my ONS hookup was my bf's Alpha billionaire BOSS….
How things are going to turn out after I accidentally became his 5yo daughter’ live-in nanny?


How did this happen? How did I wind up finally becoming employed, only for it to turn out that my new employer was the same person who I had a one night stand with just two nights ago?
“I didn’t know that you would be the employer. If I had known, I wouldn’t have applied….”
“It’s alright. I knew it was you when I hired you. I did it on purpose.”
I scrunched my eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

I was the illegitimate daughter of Alpha Kris of Dark Moon. He raped a human slave 18 years ago and that was my mom. I became a disgrace and a shame to my family.

They punished me and locked me up in the basement all day except to let me out to complete my daily routine as a slave. Yes. I looked like any common slave of the pack house. No one would expect me as the Alphas's daughter.

As a hybrid, I hadn't been able to shift, but I could hear their thoughts. It's not a good thing though, for me, it's a nightmare. Most of what I've heard were my half-sisters' curses and insults.

"CLAUDIA! Hurry up and get in here!" I knew Elly was going to scream my name long before her shrill voice echoed out of her room and into the hallway where I waited.

This was the daily ritual, every afternoon. She would call for me, and while she sat at her vanity table, I brushed her long hair like a servant to her satisfaction. No one would guess she was my half-sister, nor Maria in the other bedroom...

Rogue！Murder！Lunatic！
He's trying to kill our Alpha and Luna！They said.
Cursed by the moon goddess, I say!
Until I met my mate...

Mate! Lucas cackled, high and insane in his mind. Our mate!!
Daphne shrieked as the wolf leaped at her and tackled her to the ground. She stared up at the wolf looming over her, frozen in terror.
She hissed at the pain in her neck as he removed its paw from her throat and stepped back just a bit.
He growled, low and almost tender, “Mate.”
Oh goddess, he was looking for his mate? He was going to kill her.
“P-Please don’t k-kill me…” She pleaded, “P-Please, I…”
The wolf flinched and trembled, “No. No. I wouldn’t-- Never-- I’m sorry…”
Daphne wasn’t sure what to make of his sudden change in tone and demeanor. He took half a step back.
“Are you hurt? Lemme see your wounds” Daphne asked worriedly.
“Aren’t you… Aren’t you afraid of me?”
She shrugged, “Not so long as your paws stay off my neck.”
His face heated and his stomach clenched nervously. Even Lucas seemed anxious about it.
“I’m sorry. I-I’m really sorry. I-I thought you were an enemy. I didn’t-- I

He’s the alpha king, my crush, my guardian. And he’s 20 years older than me.
**
“How old are you?”
“T-Twenty,” I bit my lower lip, stuttering on the lie. “I’m an adult.”
I trembled but turned my head, allowing him to drag his nose along my neck and breathe in my scent. I didn’t know what I smelled like to him. Did I smell like I was lying?
I held still. He shifted just a bit, seemingly retreating, and I flung my arms around his neck, holding him down.
“Please, Alpha King,” I said. My voice trembled even as I tried to sound sultry. “I’m… sure I can please you.”
“Do you know what happens when you lie to the Alpha King, little girl?”
He knew. I should have known that he would know I wasn’t twenty.
“You seem so deliberate, but I’m not interested in your offer. How about we play a game?”
“A-A game?”
He narrowed his eyes and gave me a slow, cruel smile.
“If you win, I’ll grant you sanctuary.”
My eyes widened with a spark of hope.
“But if you lose….”

“What happened?” I ask hoarsely.
“Jane, you’ve had a shock.” The doctor said gently. “You fainted.”
A sense of foreboding slices straight through me.
The physician is smiling now. “You fainted because you’re pregnant.”
WHAT!! I just have been divorced for like one month!?


My husband never gives me pleasure. He hasn’t for years now. He seeks nothing but to claim me as roughly and thoroughly as he possibly can - and remind me of my proper place.
This is what I have to look forward to: a lifetime of pain… unless I finally do what I’ve been planning over the last few months, and ask Ethan for a divorce.I didn’t even know it was possible for an omega to leave an Alpha until recently. Legally, we have almost no rights, but I could request a divorce. Now it is the time.


Ethan and Jane were childhood sweethearts. However, he is alpha and she is omega. It was almost impossible for them to be fated mate. Ethan did not give up but chose Jane to be his wife and luna. But Fate sure knows how to run with a bit. This young couple messes up their first marriage by lack of trust. Divorce is easy. But what about finding out you were pregnant
after divorce?What if you had quadruplets?

After a one night stand, I opened my eyes and found a naked handsome man lying next to me. He was the last Lycan.

According to the rumors, the last Lycan went crazy every full moon. He could only be tamed by having sex with a virgin werewolf.

Every pack sent virgins to sacrifice to the last Lycan, and I was the chosen one.

Before he woke up, I escaped quietly.

But it's strange how my wolf became more powerful!

Could sex with a Lycan make me stronger?!

The Lycan was a wall of masculine muscle behind me. His body heat scorched me even through my wedding dress; his breath seared the shell of my ear as he leaned closer and whispered, "Mate..."

If the last Lycan was the Devil, I thought I might want to go to hell.

When I rescued the last Lycan from his cage, I never thought that one day, I would be put into a cage by him.

“I'll give you one billion dollars, sign the papers and get out!" I left my home in disgrace, unaware that I was already pregnant. Six years later, I gave birth to quintuplets and became the most famous fitness trainer in town. Returning to my pack for work, I unexpectedly ran into my ex. He looked at the smaller versions of himself by my side, and shouted in anger, "How many of my kids did you steal?!”

On my 18th Birthday, My twin sister married my mate, Alpha Jacob, in my name.

I was Alisa Clark, the she-wolf with the purest blood. The Alphas must feed on my blood.
They were blessed with great power while they were cursed. The greater their abilities, the shorter their lives. My blood protected them from their curse

Yet, my twin Jennifer took away my glory and had me tortured for 6 years! Worse still, My mate allowed it
**
"You've been like a pig for us. He can smell you down here. He's known this whole time."

She took out a mirror and held it up to my face. " You think he would ever accept such an ugly mate like this pig."

I hadn't seen myself since I was twelve, vibrant and healthy. I was a child then, and now I looked like a ghost. My face was hollow and pale like a sick person.

I saw the scar on my face, it burned and had inflamed my cheek so that it was swollen. My eyes were red from the tears.

My hair was dull and limp over my skull. My purple eyes were the only piece of me that still held some semblance of life.

I could see scars even on my neck, and I knew that my body was even more scarred, and even more pathetic...

"How dare you be so stupid." Jennifer said. "How dare you think the Alpha wants you for more than your blood. Imagine him mating with you, when he could have me."

“Prey, tell what happens when… if you lose? What benefits am I to reap from this bet of yours?” This bastard had a lot of nerve.
I could not back down from him. I knew I could see this contest through. I know I can make my dream a reality.
“If I lost than…I will serve under your modeling agency for free for half a year. Does that seem fair enough?” I said regaining my confidence. I could not help but glared back at Elijah.
“Sounds like a fair trade to me, little kitten.” He said. I do not like that nickname. No matter how sexy it sounded on his lips.
“If I lose than I will publicly apologize to you, I.” Elijah said with a smile repeating the terms. “But it you lose than you work as a model in my business for free for half of the year. Sound about right?” Elijah said.
I shook his hand. “Deal.”
Elijah smiled to the point where his teeth reminded me of the big bad wolf. “Deal,” he said softly.

"Cry, Mermaid!" a sharp lash sliced into my back, forcing a yelp from my lips. Screams and sobs surrounded me on all sides, but no one would save me. Strong hands caught me beneath my arms and yanked me from the water. It was time for Tail Cut.

The operation lasted hours. I felt every last slice of their blades, every new tendon sewn into my muscles and nail hammered into my bones. I screamed. I begged. I begged for them to stop, for them to kill me, just ended the pain.

I have a secret, I am a mermaid.

I should live in the ocean, but my tail was cut and I only owned legs. After escaping to Asterion, I hid my identity. I thought I could finally live a peaceful life, until that day I met the famous bad boy, the future Alpha, Caspian.

I felt a strange prickling on the back of my neck. I spun around just in time to see Caspian prowling towards me through the darkened wings, his blue eyes positively glowing. Sharp white teeth flashed as Caspian's lips unfurled into a lethal grin, "Hello Mate."

When I woke up, my mom's body was cold. The color was drained from her half-opened eyes, and I could see no signs of life.
My father told me that she purposely drank poison to kill herself.
But that was a lie.
My mother would never kill herself; she would never leave me.
That night imprisoned me.

“It wasn’t a mistake,”
“What are you talking about, Jonathan?” I asked him.
“Arina, you are my mate. You were born to be my luna,” he said. His face showed no signs of humor.
“I wasn’t born to be anybody’s luna,” I shot back.
“Arina, I love you…” he spoke softly, still staring into my eyes. I could feel the wolf in me stirring; something that I had never felt before. She was awakening; the fire that burned so deep inside of me was beginning to flare.
“Love?” I heard myself saying. “There’s no such thing as love…” After everything I knew about “love”, what my mother went through when she married my father, love didn’t exist.
“Give me a chance to prove you wrong. Marry me.”

####WARNING This story will contain: Strong Sexual Content, Strong Language and Domestic Violence Scenes that may be triggering. Adult viewers only. #########

“How does it feel, then, to be kissed by an unlovable brute?” —————— I find it amusing that I didn't even have to track down my runaway bride. She simply climbed into my car, completely oblivious to the fact that I am the man she was running away from. I could catch her. Hunting women down is the last thing I want to be doing, truly. I mean Ruby no harm, even though she unknowingly said some awful, untrue things about me in the car. In time, she’ll learn that those things aren’t true. I’m not like my parents. Still, I have no choice but to marry this girl. She’s barely eighteen, three years younger than me, but it’s fate. All of this mess started about a month ago.

When your bf banged your cheerleader bff in your bedroom on your 18th birthday party
To get revenge on him, you slept with his hockey team captain
Everyone knows Captain never have a second sex with the same girl.
But he wants you every night...and everyone knows that too...

Judy’s fated mate rejected her to marry the Lycan Chairman - Gavin’s daughter. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he ruined her family and tried to make her his secret mistress!
Judy’s response? “I’d rather sleep with your father-in-law than ever be with you!”
Gavin is known for his power, wealth, and being the ultimate playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice.
But Judy’s about to break all his rules… again and again.