8987 Book(s) Related to the rabbit hutch: a novel

For ten years, Aria believed her mate bond with Alpha Declan was sacred. Then he began spending every night in her adopted sister's nursery, and each visit sent agony through Aria's wolf. Pregnant, publicly condemned, and threatened with exile, Aria does the one thing no one expects: she demands that the bond be broken.

Declan thinks rank, family, and the pack's worship will silence her. He has no idea she is carrying proof that can strip him of everything.

I once believed becoming Empress would prove I was worthy.
Instead, the crown cost me my sister, my children, my freedom, and finally my life.
Reborn before my marriage was decided, I refused to repeat the same mistake. I stepped aside for my sister and accepted an engagement to Prince Rui—the empire’s charming, notoriously unambitious second prince.
He promised we could remain husband and wife in name only.
Then he fought my brother for hurting me, stayed beside me through a deadly fever, and offered to set me free when he thought I loved someone else.
For the first time, losing the crown felt like winning my life.

"911, what's your emergency?"
What came through wasn't words—it was raw, desperate sobbing.
In Oak Creek, a well-respected couple called to report their daughter had died. But when officers stepped through the door, what they found made a veteran sheriff drop to his knees and retch—
Their 36-year-old daughter had become part of the couch.
Her body had fused with decomposing foam, waste, and writhing maggots. Skin adhered to cracked leather. Her stomach contained couch padding and her own feces. She weighed 65 pounds.
Through tears, her parents explained: "She had severe autism... wouldn't let anyone touch her..."
But neighbors told a different story: Nobody had laid eyes on this girl in twelve years.
Then investigators found something beneath the couch—freshly used cleaning wipes.
Someone had crouched beside her decomposing body and methodically cleaned her. For days.
Then who stays that composed in hell?
Grief—or guilt?

I was once the most exquisite rose in New York's underworld.
Leander Castello's wife. The mafia godfather's treasured queen. The woman everyone envied.
I thought he would be my salvation, my forever.
Until he snapped me in half with his own hands and threw me into the filthiest pit like trash.
He said he needed to teach me what betrayal costs.
So I was handed over to the Mexican cartel boss, Carlos.
Six months later, when he kicked down that iron door, I was on my knees in a pool of blood, crawling toward his feet like a beaten dog.
I thought he was just another client.
I opened my mouth, revealing my shattered teeth, forcing sounds like grinding metal through vocal cords destroyed by industrial acid.
I mechanically unbuttoned my shirt, displaying the crisscrossing cigarette burns and brands covering my skin.
I knocked my forehead against his shoe, silently begging him not to use the hose on me today.
He stared at my mutilated right leg, at my vacant eyes, and finally understood—
That rose had rotted away on the cartel's operating table, along with our child.
What's left now is just a living corpse.

A month before my boyfriend Samuel and I were supposed to get married, he asked me to let another woman wear my wedding dress and move into my house.

It all started three months ago when his "old friend" Dahlia returned from overseas, supposedly with less than a year to live. A week ago, Samuel told me that Dahlia's dying wish was to become a bride before she passed away, and he was the chosen groom.

I kept saying no. But he brought it up every single day, insisting he had to help Dahlia because she had helped him when his company was in crisis three years ago, and he needed to fulfill her wish.

I was furious.

But in the end, I gave up the house and left him.

When my fiancé lets his new assistant put my name on the family purge list, he tells me it was only a joke. He expects me to apologize, come home, and keep standing beside him while everyone watches another woman take my place. So I let the order go through. I leave his family, his city, and the future he thought I would never dare abandon.

I broke the track record. My ex showed up with my best friend—his new fiancée—to humiliate me. Three years of betrayal, lies, and a career-ending crash that was never really an accident.
So I lied: told everyone I'm marrying Lorenzo Vitali, the man every driver fears and respects.
Problem? He heard everything. And he's not denying it.
Now my ex is spiraling, desperate to prove I'm still the broken girl he destroyed. My former best friend's perfect mask is cracking. And Lorenzo just stopped pretending this is fake.
They thought I'd crawl back. Instead, they're about to learn what happens when you push the wrong woman too far.

I took a submachine gun bullet for Mafia Don Vincenzo Lombardi. I drank poisoned wine for him and bore his heir. To the the entire syndicate, I was his loyal cleaner and lucky talisman.
But the moment he seized ultimate power, he brought her home—my "pure and fragile" adopted sister, Vanessa.
For her, Vincenzo shattered my knees, handed over my title as Donna, and turned my own son against me. He dismissed my broken heart, claiming I was being petty and that she was merely "joining the family."
Yet, the innocent Vanessa was a monster in disguise. She ruthlessly slit her own mother’s throat—the woman who raised me—and locked me in a sub-zero freezer.
When Vincenzo finally pried the heavy iron door open, there was no pity in his eyes. He only offered a cold command: crawl and beg his pregnant new Donna for forgiveness.
Wiping the bloody ice crystals from my lips, I looked at the man I had loved with my life, and rasped my final words: "Vincenzo... I'm dying."

My wolf was damaged the day I first shifted, when I was ten. I’ve healed slower than other wolves ever since, and a wolf like that can’t inherit a pack.

I grew up mocked and bullied for being the weak one.

My sister, Seraphina, shifted on the same day and came through it perfectly. She became the Alpha heir, the prodigy my parents poured everything into.

I thought they loved her more because she could carry the pack and I couldn’t. I took a rabid bear’s claws for her at thirteen. I was her sparring partner by day and her tutor by night, and I learned not to argue.

When Seraphina was accepted to the Royal Wolf Academy, the whole estate celebrated. My parents were going to escort her there themselves in a bulletproof Cadillac. But nobody cared that I’d been accepted to a college a thousand miles from home.

And today was the day I was leaving for school, too.

When I asked whether I should leave for the airport, my father told me to figure it out myself. My mother told me to clean up after my sister's party first.

I was done waiting for them to care. I decided to let them be the perfect family of three.

I already had a one-way ticket on my phone. By tonight, I would be gone from their lives.

In a decaying city apartment building, law-clerk Maya Carter is drawn to the sealed door of 5B—an address that should not exist, yet keeps receiving late-night deliveries and whispering back from the dark. Behind the rumors of a haunted unit lies a battered woman in hiding, and a chilling hunt led by men who weaponize authority, gaslight women living alone, and turn silence into a trap. Tense, claustrophobic, and razor-sharp, the story moves through dim hallways, yellow light under a door, bruised wrists, broken locks, and the fierce urgency of survival.

I used to think I was the luckiest woman in the world.

Married to my first love, Matteo Rossi—mafia boss—with an adorable son.

Until that afternoon. Luca was running a fever, whining for cake from that shop across town—a four-hour round trip.

I hesitated.

Matteo immediately chimed in: "Go ahead, babe. Don't worry, I got him."

I grabbed the car keys and turned. Before leaving, I glanced back—he was kneeling beside Luca's bed, his large hand gently stroking our son's burning forehead.

What a perfect fucking picture.

Until I heard that GODDAMN surveillance recording.

When the debate is evenly matched, it's called discourse.
When you drag a socially anxious mess who can barely string together a coherent sentence onto the judgment platform of Ivy League elites—that's public execution.
My name is Scarlett Hayes. Ten minutes ago, if anyone had told me I'd be standing in a two-thousand-seat auditorium, pointing at Arthur—the nation's debate king—and shredding his logic to ribbons, I would've told them to see a shrink.
But right now, that sketchy pink energy shot I slammed down is surging through my bloodstream like molten adrenaline.
And that logic engine—the one that's been dead for twenty years, paralyzed by fear—just roared back to life.

To save my girlfriend, I crippled my right leg, reducing myself to the lowest scum in the shelter for anyone to trample on.

In return, I watched her nestle in the leader’s arms, using perfume in disgust to mask her nausea at my festering wound. To prove her loyalty to her new lover, she coldly looked down at me and pressed the release switch, plunging my broken body into a waste pit dozens of meters deep.

Waiting below were thousands of pale, starving skeletal claws.

They thought they had simply discarded an eyesore, free to continue their comfortable lives up in the high tower. Little did they know, the Dark-Gold tier virus dormant within my ruined leg finally awakened, triggered by the scent of fresh blood.

When the endless zombie horde fell to their knees at my feet, letting out whimpers of absolute submission, I knew—it was time for me to rewrite the rules of survival in this wasteland.

The five of us were dragged into a twisted nightmare.
The game rules were absolute: Kill the Boss. All members survive. Total escape.
Luckily, we each spawned into the game with a supernatural perk.
Relying on our powers and our bond, we spent six grueling hours tearing the massive, horrific beast apart.
All we had to do was step into the extraction portal to wake up in Oregon.
My friends were screaming in victory, already planning our celebration at Voodoo Doughnuts.
Instead, I was frozen. My heart wasn't racing with adrenaline anymore; it was cold. Absolute zero.
Because my real perk tracked the Boss status.
Floating in the center of my vision, cutting through the shadows, were two lines of text that only I could see:BOSS STATUS: ALIVE.DISGUISED. The monster wasn't dead. It was standing right here, wearing the face of one of my best friends!

Married for years, I caught my husband in bed with another woman.
He had nothing at all once; it was only after being with me that he became the CEO of a company and made his fortune.
I asked for a divorce, and he flew into a rage and locked me in a dog cage.
But what he never saw coming was that I had long been ready to take my revenge.

The poor girl my family funded is known as a "clumsy sweetheart."
Before the CIF Volleyball Finals, she spiked my drink with banned stimulants.
I was reported for doping, stripped of my UCLA scholarship, permanently banned, and expelled in disgrace.
When I confronted her, she cried innocent tears:
"Scarlett, I just wanted you to have enough energy to win... I didn't know it was banned."
My boyfriend Jake wrapped his arms around her, glaring at me: "She was just trying to help! Why are you always so mean to her?"
Ruined and depressed, they came to "apologize" with bottles of hard liquor.
She fed me lethal meds when I was drunk, watching me bleed to death on the floor.
Her excuse? "I'm so silly, I mixed up the pill bottles..."
And my boyfriend testified to the police that I committed suicide out of shame.
Then, I open my eyes. I'm back to the day before the finals.

This was the thirty-third time I caught Vance and my stepsister stark naked in a hotel room.
 
He smashed a liquor bottle and drove the jagged glass toward his own groin.
 
Flying shards of glass sliced across my cheek.
 
He stared at me like I was a totally unreasonable lunatic. "Could you just let me go?"
 
Watching the blood instantly soak the bedsheets red, I felt a sudden, disorienting wave of blankness.
 
After all, during our most vicious standoff, I had floored the gas pedal and driven toward a cliff with my stepsister in the passenger seat just to force him to come home. His response? He dragged my mother in front of the car, standing right beside her, and sneered, asking if I still wanted him home.
 
Vance and I were like two beasts trapped in a colosseum, proving our existence by tearing each other apart. Neither of us would back down. Neither of us would let go.
 
But now, shielding my stepsister behind him, his eyes held nothing but profound exhaustion. "Don't hurt Lorna. I'm tired. Just let me go."
 
He was conceding. For my stepsister.
 
This tragic, belated surrender reduced my last five years of paranoia and obsession into an absolute joke.
 
My hand had been hidden inside my coat pocket the whole time. Now, my fingertips slowly relaxed their death grip on the crumpled ultrasound slip.
 
Staring at the blood-soaked bed and the way he protectively shielded her, an overwhelming exhaustion washed over me.
 
I truly didn't have the strength to play this game with him anymore. It was time to end it.

To save my dying brother, I signed a million-dollar contract: sleep with a comatose billionaire to secure an heir. My boyfriend swore it was just a harmless formality. One night. One permanently locked door. But as I nervously approached the mattress, the paralyzed heir suddenly opened his eyes. And he whispered a terrifying warning...

The floodwaters rushed into the basement, trapping my sister Isabella and me in the surging currents.

My brother, a former Navy SEAL, smashed through the window. Without a second of hesitation, he secured the rescue rope around Isabella.

"You're a good swimmer, figure your own way up! Isabella can't take the cold, I have to get her out first!"

He abandoned me and turned to hoist the rope, accidentally kicking away the only wooden crate keeping me afloat.

Once Isabella was pulled up, she reached down and slid the outer latch, deadlocking the only vent grate.

The floodwaters instantly swallowed me whole. Mud and debris violently surged into my mouth and nose. I was drowned alive.

My mom ran an exclusive underground fertility clinic. Her dark red serum smelled like rotting blood, yet the rich still lined up with massive checks for her "perfect designer embryos."
I’d watch her lock desperate young surrogates into a soundproof room. A few minutes later, the whole floor would shake.
Strangely, when the girls stumbled back out—looking entirely drained and aged by years—they would weep and kiss my mom’s hands in gratitude.
It never made sense to me.
Until the day I saw a pitch-black mass frantically clawing just beneath a surrogate's flat stomach.
I finally knew what kind of "embryos" my mom was actually planting inside them.

I gave him seventeen chances to marry me, yet he eagerly toasts with his new flame, showers her with gifts, and retreats to hotels with her.
He has forgotten that I do not have pierced ears, presenting me annually with earrings I can never wear; he has overlooked our seven-year anniversary but vividly remembers the one-year anniversary of his new lover's employment.
Seventeen promises of marriage, each one an empty promise; seven years of devoted affection, ultimately reduced to a mere laughingstock.
So I flew straight to his worst nightmare—Mexico.
And let him burn in the regret he never earned.

I died on my birthday.

While kidnappers shattered my limbs and violated me to death, my family was throwing a grand party for my sister Chloe—yes, we shared the same birthday, but only hers was worth celebrating.

I called my father for help. He sneered and hung up: "Stop using this pathetic kidnapping stunt to ruin Chloe's birthday."

I called my fiancé Mark. He said with disgust: "If you're going to die, do it somewhere far away."

In the final second before the flames consumed me, I finally understood—

I was never loved in this family.

And now that I'm truly dead, now that they've discovered Chloe hired those men to kill me, now that the truth has been exposed to the world...

Will they regret it?

Or will they, as always, continue to favor Chloe and blame everything on me—the dead one?

My fiancé of five years lent the white rose greenhouse—the one we built for our wedding—to his junior for her graduation project.
"Postponing the wedding to next year won't change anything. Elara, we've been together for five years. A few more months won't matter, right?"
He was certain I couldn't live without him, expecting me to wait around for him to cash his empty promises of marriage, just like I had countless times before.
I handed over the key, my voice flat. "She can have the greenhouse. But I'm done waiting for a five-year-old promise."
He froze for a second, then his brows furrowed, assuming I was just throwing a tantrum again. "Fine, act out all you want. I'll make it up to you once I'm done with this busy period."
Until a month later, when he scrolled through his social media feed and my wedding photos popped up on his screen.
Surrounded by a sea of white roses, I was in a wedding gown, smiling radiantly.
Staring at the screen, Julian was suddenly struck by the memory of the night I handed over that key.
My best friend, Maya, had practically gritted her teeth as she asked me:
"Didn't we agree that once this garden bloomed, you'd put on your dress and be the most beautiful bride in the world? He just carelessly gave away your wedding venue with a single sentence. What does he even take you for?"
I fought back the last bit of foolish obsession in my eyes and gave her a smile. "The wedding goes on as planned."

I found a black lace panty under my husband's car. Black lace. Definitely not mine.
Three months. That's how long he'd been telling everyone he was done with herm, telling his mom, telling our friends, telling me. I actually believed him. I thought we were finally okay.
Then I found the dash cam footage from the night before, and I heard him tell his buddy he'd never once felt anything real with me. Not in ten years. Not once.
So yeah. He came home. He just never really left her.
I didn't scream. I didn't confront him. Found her address off his phone.Brought a cake and a bottle of wine like I actually gave a damn.
Had my assistant livestream the whole thing.
The second that door opened, half a million people watched me hand him that cake.
"Surprise. Bet you weren't expecting this."

On the night of Reeve’s birthday, I drove to his family’s coastal estate with a premium ribeye and a bottle of Pinot Noir, ready to give him a romantic surprise.
But the rug was shifted three inches, and a single drop of dark blood hid in the floorboards. Before I could run, a gun barrel pressed against the back of my head.
The man was impeccably dressed and terrifyingly calm. Upstairs in my bathtub lay the corpse of his pregnant wife.
He ordered me to help him dispose of the body and cover up the crime. My only thought was to stall until my husband got home.
That is, until he spoke—and revealed the root of this massacre. Everything was my husband's fault.

You know you're getting cheated on when your strictly private husband accidentally goes live on Instagram at midnight.

The camera showed Chloe—the newest streamer signed to his company—wearing cute fluffy ears, blushing under the neon lights of a late-night gastro-pub. Ethan's voice boomed in the background, laughing softly: "Look at this cute little foodie."

In five years of marriage, I had never once been featured on his phone screen. But here she was.

By the time someone commented, "Dude, wrong account!", the stream violently cut out.

Next thing I knew, my screen flared up with Ethan's contact name.

In the past, I would've lost my mind and confronted him right then and there.

Tonight, I just watched the missed call counter hit zero and laid down to sleep.

My world fell apart the day I got scratched by my best friend Coralie’s cat, and she handed me that "miracle" ointment.
Rosalind, the mentor I had respected for years, suddenly turned on me, cutting all ties in a fit of rage that landed her in the hospital.
My mother, Adrienne, transformed overnight, screaming abuse and kicking me out of her house.
And Dorian, my fiancé, publicly humiliated me at our engagement party, viciously calling off the wedding.
Driven to despair, I wandered into the street and was nearly killed by a car. In the shocking clarity of that near-death moment, I finally realized the twisted truth behind everyone’s sudden, violent disgust for me...

I died in an abandoned cabin in the pack's old lumberyard.
Wolfsbane burned through my veins. Pure silver chains bit into my wrists, charring the flesh down to the bone.
The news alarmed my husband, Alistair, the Alpha of the Riven Pack. Standing over my corpse, he couldn't fathom who would torture a woman so ruthlessly on his territory. Enraged, he swore to slaughter the killer himself.
He didn't know it was me.
I had been missing for seven days. Even with everyone telling him I was gone and something wasn't right, he insisted I was just throwing a fit.
That was until his mistress, Sylvie, ran to him in tears, clutching her cheek. She claimed I had publicly slapped her and thrown my late mother's necklace in her face.
Furious, he pulled out his phone to call me, demanding I crawl back and apologize immediately.
Instead, his Beta's trembling voice came through the speaker: "Alpha, we found this phone... in the abandoned cabin at the old lumberyard."

I'm a blind girl, and I've always been close with the old lady living next door.
One day, I caught the smell of blood coming from her apartment.
Worried something had happened to her, I pushed her door open—and instantly realized my mistake.
I had walked right into a murder scene.
The killer was still there.
I had to take a chance.
Betting that my pale, sightless eyes could fool those blood-crazed ones.
I stepped into the blood-soaked room, smiled toward where the body lay, and called out,
"Ma'am, the store has oranges on sale—I brought some over for you..."

I was accused by my beloved Alpha, Kael, of "spiritual mark plagiarism," and he even added the "soul-burning curse" to the blazing fire. He whispered, "This is all for our future."

Before I jumped off the cliff, I finally understood — this was all just to awaken my bloodline power.

After the fall, the blood moon cracked open, and black light enveloped me. To my shock, I was reborn seven days before the trial, with the Shadow Queen bloodline awakening within me.

Upon my return, I found Kael still making “spirit herb soup” for me every day. I secretly poured the soup into a flowerpot, and the flower instantly withered. The doubts in my heart grew clearer.

At the Moonlight Spring, I caught him and Lyra in an intimate moment. When I confronted him, Kael said, "I got close to her for you." He said it so casually, yet my heart was shattered like glass.

In this entangled web of love and betrayal, can I succeed in my revenge?

The day I was reborn, I finally saw the truth about my so-called “savior.”
He wasn’t my Fate Mate. He was a nightmare wearing a smile.
In my last life, he reached out a gentle hand to “rescue” me—only to chain me down as a breeding tool and a free maid. In the end, even our own son despised me, sneering that I was worthless because I couldn’t hand over one million. I died alone on the streets, abandoned and humiliated.
This time, at the same crossroads, I ran into him again. His voice was as soft as ever:
“Miss, you look weak. Let me help you.”
But the moment I heard it, my blood turned to ice. My wolf roared inside me—Don’t let him touch you!
“Don’t touch me!” I stumbled back, trembling but unyielding.
He only smiled, but in his eyes shadows stirred.
“Darling, don’t push yourself. Being late for work won’t kill you.”
But I knew better. If I let him close, if I let him chain me again—my fate would replay in the same nightmare loop.
Not this time.
In this life, I’ll rip away the mask.

SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF CRIME is Book #2 in a charming new cozy mystery series by bestselling author Fiona Grace, author of Murder in the Manor, a #1 Bestseller with over 100 five-star reviews (and a free download)!When Mia Bold, 30, learns that the pharmaceutical company she works for only cares about money, she quits on the spot, walking away from a high-powered career—and from her long-time boyfriend, who breaks up with her.With the podcast taking off, and with a romance brewing, Mia and the crew film the first episode of their new TV show, in the haunted house of one of the original Salem witches. Mia’s working hard to debunk the unexplained happenings—when suddenly, someone dies unexpectedly.Even worse—the suspicion falls on her.With her future at stake and her career and reputation on the line, Mia has no choice but to solve the inexplicable death. Could the cause be supernatural?A mesmerizing page-turner, packed with intrigue, mystery, romance, pets, food—and most of all, the supernatural—SKEPTIC IN SALEM is a cozy with a twist, one you will cherish as it has you fall in love with its main character and as it keeps you glued (and laughing) throughout the night.Book #3 in the series—AN EPISODE OF DEATH—is now also available!

"Very entertaining. Highly recommended for the permanent library of any reader who appreciates a well-written mystery with twists and an intelligent plot. You will not be disappointed. Excellent way to spend a cold weekend!"--Books and Movie Reviews (regarding Murder in the Manor) SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF MURDER is the debut novel in a charming new cozy mystery series by bestselling author Fiona Grace, author of Murder in the Manor, a #1 Bestseller with over 100 five-star reviews (and a free download)!When Mia Bold, 30, learns that the pharmaceutical company she works for only cares about money, she quits on the spot, walking away from a high-powered career. Worse, her long-time boyfriend, instead of proposing as she expected, decides to break up with her.Mia’s true passion lies in her own podcast, devoted to debunking the occult and shining light on the truth. The daughter of a con-man father, Mia feels a moral responsibility to the truth, and to spare others from being conned.When Mia, at a crossroads, receives an invitation from a famous supernatural podcast inviting her to move to Salem and join their podcast as the skeptic-in-residence, Mia sees a chance to start her life over again and to pursue her life’s mission.But things in Salem do not go as planned. When an unexpected death happens—in the midst of Mia trying to debunk a haunted inn—she realizes she may be in over her head. With her own future now at stake, can she really prove that witches and ghosts do not exist?A mesmerizing page-turner, packed with intrigue, mystery, romance, pets, food—and most of all, the supernatural—SKEPTIC IN SALEM is a cozy with a twist, one you will cherish as it has you fall in love with its main character and as it keeps you glued (and laughing) throughout the night.“The book had heart and the entire story worked together seamlessly that didn't sacrifice either intrigue or personality. I loved the characters - so many great characters! I can't wait to read whatever Fiona Grace writes next!”--Amazon reviewer (regarding Murder in the Manor)“Wow, this book takes off & never stops! I couldn't put it down! Highly recommended for those who love a great mystery with twists, turns, romance, and a long lost family member! I am reading the next book right now!”--Amazon reviewer (regarding Murder in the Manor)“This book is rather fast paced. It has the right blend of characters, place, and emotions. It was hard to put down and I hope to read the next book in the series.”

In my last life, for the spy I executed, she framed me for treason and injected me with the zombie virus herself.

I died in a dungeon—by the hand of the one I trusted most.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back before it all began.

This time I didn’t interfere. I watched coldly as she got scratched, handed the only dose of serum to the spy, and as the gates swung open and he finally showed his true face.

At last she believed me, kneeling in the dirt, begging for forgiveness.

I looked into her eyes as they clouded over. “I warned you in my last life. You didn’t believe me.”

This life, every blade she wanted for me—lands on her instead.

The moment my ten–year marriage collapsed was when my husband’s first love Amy “came back from the dead.”
What drove me into deeper despair was that my husband Jackson and my son Lucas actually believed all of Amy’s lies and together locked my elder father in the backyard shed and set it on fire—just because Amy casually said, “He wants to hurt me.”
I knelt in front of the burning shed and begged them over and over, but all I got was my husband’s indifference and my son’s disgust. They even helped Amy make up the lie that “your dad went to a nursing home,” keeping me completely in the dark.
When I finally saw clearly how heartless this father and son were and signed the divorce agreement with my father’s urn in my arms, they still thought I was just throwing a tantrum and that I’d bow my head and ask to reconcile sooner or later.

I’m just a blind woman whose sight was stolen by the mist.

And yet, for his ambition to become the Alpha King, I begged my brother Mason to venture deep into the forest and bring back the Moon Goddess’s Mark.

On Christmas, I carried that Mark in one hand and my pregnancy report in the other, my heart practically bursting with joy.

Then I caught my husband tangled up with Rory—the Omega who stayed by my side every day.

What shattered me most was this: my son’s death was never a surgical accident.

It was Andrew who wanted to give the heart of my son, Ethan, to Rory, who was sick with heart disease. He lied and told me those papers were for Ethan’s treatment, and tricked me into signing my name.

He mocked me, saying a blind woman couldn’t survive without him. But he didn’t understand what a mother’s resolve looks like.

"Very entertaining. Highly recommended for the permanent library of any reader who appreciates a well-written mystery with twists and an intelligent plot. You will not be disappointed. Excellent way to spend a cold weekend!".--Books and Movie Reviews (regarding Murder in the Manor)SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF DEATH is Book #3 in a charming new cozy mystery series by bestselling author Fiona Grace, author of Murder in the Manor, a #1 Bestseller with over 100 five-star reviews (and a free download)!When Mia Bold, 30, learns that the pharmaceutical company she works for only cares about money, she quits on the spot, walking away from a high-powered career—and from her long-time boyfriend, who breaks up with her.With the podcast and TV show taking off, Mia’s career and life are finally starting to bloom again—when her uptight family makes an unexpected visit to Salem, to cast doubts on her passion and to urge her to return home.At the same time, Mia’s show must try to debunk a notoriously haunted house, now on the market for sale. Mia, unable to explain the phenomena, seems to have met her match—just as the real estate agent drops dead.Could this house be as insidious as it seems?Or might there be some other motive?A mesmerizing page-turner, packed with intrigue, mystery, romance, pets, food—and most of all, the supernatural—SKEPTIC IN SALEM is a cozy with a twist, one you will cherish as it has you fall in love with its main character and as it keeps you glued (and laughing) throughout the night.“The book had heart and the entire story worked together seamlessly that didn't sacrifice either intrigue or personality. I loved the characters - so many great characters! I can't wait to read whatever Fiona Grace writes next!”--Amazon reviewer (regarding Murder in the Manor)“Wow, this book takes off & never stops! I couldn't put it down! Highly recommended for those who love a great mystery with twists, turns, romance, and a long lost family member! I am reading the next book right now!” --Amazon reviewer (regarding Murder in the Manor)“This book is rather fast paced. It has the right blend of characters, place, and emotions. It was hard to put down and I hope to read the next book in the series.”--Amazon reviewer (regarding Murder in the Manor)

“Aren't you a hooker that anyone could on top of you with money?”
When they met, he became her guest in room...

Exiled to the wasteland by wife and children? No problem, I'll open an arms factory there.
Everything stolen by a rival? No worries, his technology is garbage I discarded seven years ago.
My ex-wife throws me a repairman's business card and demands my knees? Fine, see you at the military academy ceremony tomorrow.
Her son, dressed in his rival's "super armor," goes around showing off, only to be exposed in public by my ten-year-old son: "With a 0.7-second delay, an S-class mutant could kill you three times."
My rival brings his private army to capture me?
My wife leads a regular army, smashing the dome and descending from the sky: "Try touching my husband!"
My rival, cornered, releases the Abyss Mother Beast?
I pilot Zero Mech, one-shotting her.
My ex-wife kneels in the ruins, crying. I don't even glance at her.
Betrayed me? You don't deserve it.

My wife, the most ruthless godmother in New York's underworld, wants a divorce.
The reason? Her male subordinate's old wound has flared up, and he only has three months to live. She wants to accompany him on his final journey as his wife.
To make room for her new lover, she not only doesn't go home, but even allows him to frame me for a fabricated death sentence.
In the dimly lit underground interrogation room, the backlash from deviating from the proper procedures caused my organs to rapidly fail, and I developed a persistent high fever.
Through the iron bars, she looked at my disfigured body, not recognizing me, but coldly raising her gun and giving the order to execute me herself.
She proudly believed that by clearing the way, she could go back and have a grand wedding with the man who was feigning illness.
Until the last shot, when my breathing stopped completely, she saw the old scar on the back of my left hand—the scar from the severed finger I had left for her.
That once arrogant godmother instantly broke down in tears beside my corpse.

Seven years ago, betrayed by my closest friend and my fiancée, I was thrown into the lightless Black Sea Death Prison and tortured mercilessly.

Seven years later, I returned through a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, only to find my crippled little sister being trampled in the mud by my former "brother," forcing her to sign a humiliating organ extraction contract.

"A worthless ghost who just crawled out of death row—what makes you think you can fight a billionaire tycoon like me?"

At a grand banquet at the Peninsula Hotel, the treacherous couple threw a bloody dog bone at my feet. They mobilized hundreds of heavily armed SWAT officers to surround me, demanding I kneel, kowtow, and call them master.

They thought their wealth and power made them untouchable on the West Coast, assuming I was still the same spineless weakling from years ago.

That was until an EMP tore through the night sky. Three military stealth fighter jets hovered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and hundreds of laser sights from the nation's most classified special forces locked dead center on the foreheads of every elite in the room.

Under the horrified gazes of the city's high society, a four-star general crashed through the window and gave me the highest military salute:

"Tier Zero Task Force assembled! Supreme Commander, please give the order to purge!"

At that moment, the high-and-mighty tycoons finally remembered the terror of being dominated by the abyss.

In the wasteland era, the soil is dead. Whoever can grow food is king.
In my last life, my brother gave me the spore we had nearly died to get, and the two of us awakened plant-growing powers together.
But every grain he grew was full and perfect, and the leader placed him on a pedestal; everything I grew was poisonous, and I was mercilessly cast out as worthless.
It wasn't until I died that I learned the truth: his power was never plant-growing, but transfer.
As long as he had eaten the spore, he could transfer away all the crops I grew.
When I got a second chance, I returned to the very day my so-called brother tried to shove the spore into my mouth.
This time, I slammed into him, knocked the spore to the ground, and crushed it under my foot.

I used to be Henry’s adopted daughter. He taught me manners, and kept repeating one rule: “Stay away from humans.”
But I still betrayed him for a human named Avery.
I thought it was love… until the day I started hemorrhaging before giving birth.
Avery dumped me at Henry’s feet in front of everyone, sneering as he asked:
“Didn’t you say humans are low creatures? Well, your unbonded daughter got knocked up by me, filthier than a whore. Are you still going to save her?”
In that moment, Henry didn’t shove me away.
He lowered his head, pressed a kiss to the back of my neck, sank his teeth into my skin and branded me with a mate mark.
That’s when I finally understood I wasn’t his daughter.
I was his fated mate.
And still, we were expelled from the Pack.
Ten years later, Avery had become Eric Jones, a powerful man everyone scrambled to flatter and I was Rory, the underground casino’s whore up for auction.
This time, I was going to make Avery pay.

I have everything in my life all figured out. My job in a Manhattan empire is perfect, allowing me to maintain a quiet and organized existence. After a childhood filled with painful memories, abuse, and a useless mother, this sense of security is a necessity for me. But along with it comes a problem that could disrupt everything I thought I needed.

My promotion places me in close proximity to Jacob Carrero, a young, incredibly attractive, and playboy billionaire with a notorious reputation. I now find myself stuck as his right-hand man, spending every waking moment with him. It doesn't take long for me to realize that he's exactly the type of person who could drive me crazy, and not in a good way. We're like chalk and cheese. He's impulsive, confident, laid-back, dominant, and enjoys casual sex and dating without much thought. I, on the other hand, am compulsive, reserved, and cautious.

Despite his carefree attitude, Jacob is the only one who can break through my composed exterior. He's not phased by my closed-off demeanor and cool manners. But as much as I may want to, letting him into my heart is another thing entirely. My painful past has made me wary of men, and I have no desire to let anyone get close enough to hurt me again.

However, Jacob Carrero is not someone who takes no for an answer. He wants to be more than just another person seeing my façade, who is learning how to break through my defenses.

What should I do?

"Do it! Rape me!" She screamed, from the top of her lungs, challenging the beast in him.

He laughed, genuinely, loudly.
"You have no idea what you're doing to me, right, kitten?" he asked, reaching for his belt.

"That little biting your lip thingy, you do, whenever you check me out- it's driving me crazy.

The shivers traveling over your body, when I spanked you- turned me on so bad, I had to restrain myself from pinning your body against the wall, and fucking you in the hall.

And now, your scent, it's literally inviting me. I could smell your arousal from miles away, the scent making my mouth water and beast go crazy.

And your body- holy Moon Goddess- that body of yours is divine. Without a doubt, I could praise and savour it day after day, and never get tired."

***Evangeline is a simple human girl, born and raised in shifter dominated town. One day she is captured by a group of shifters and almost get raped, but she is saved by a masked man.

Doubts about the stranger's identity and fear of shifter remain in her mind until the night of human mating games when she's captured by her savior. The man who never took off the mask, a powerful shifter-Eros.

***PLEASE NOTE: This is a complete series collection for The Unwanted Alpha Series by  K. K. Winter. This includes and . Seperate books from the series are available on the author page.

“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.