9845 Book(s) Related to fated to the alpha jessica hall

I died once—betrayed and devoured by my fiancée and the townspeople I had protected. I used my ice powers to shield them from the scorching apocalypse, yet they believed the rumor that consuming me would grant them the same abilities, and brutally ate me alive.

Reborn fifteen days before the apocalypse, when 70-degree heat turns Texas into a wasteland, my ice powers will become the only oasis. In this life, the police station basement will no longer shelter refugees—it will only store my supplies, and the corpses of those who dare to trespass.

I was always a clingy girlfriend, something my online boyfriend seemed to eat right up. That is, until my brother's birthday dinner. I noticed his pretty-boy roommate's phone lit up the exact second I sent a text.

My brother chuckled. "She's been texting you non-stop all night. Doesn't it annoy you?"

The roommate barely looked at his screen. "Annoying," he muttered.

My thumbs froze over the keyboard.

You're right. I expanded your line without being asked — that was my mistake.

Here's the corrected version, keeping your line tight and matched in length:

I died for the mate bond.

In my past life, I choked on my own blood in the snow, taking a silver bullet for Kael. My reward? He married Seraphina over my fresh grave.

Never again.

Now, standing alive in the packhouse, I stared at the man I once died for.

"I reject you, Elara. You're a pathetic Omega," Kael spat, his lip curling in front of the entire pack. "You will never be my Luna."

He wanted tears. He expected me to break. Instead, I wiped a smear of blood from my split lip and gave him a razor-sharp smile. "I accept your rejection."

The crowd froze. But the silence didn't last.

A suffocating aura slammed into the room, dropping wolves to their knees. The heavy oak doors splintered open. Silas. The bloodthirsty Alpha King of the North.

He ignored the bowing elites and walked straight up to me. His burning gaze pinned me in place.

"Since the guy threw you away," Silas rumbled, a grin splitting his face, "From this second on, you are mine."

I spent five years living as a benevolent saint and healer, beloved and praised across the realm. But a sudden summons from the Rose Duke pulled me into the cruel, scheming world of the nobility. Plagued by my fake sister’s malice, ridiculed by arrogant nobles, and exploited by the royal family, my peaceful pretense finally shattered. The moment my mentor’s seal broke, my dormant, demonic curse powers awakened at last. Holiness is only my mask; curses are my deadliest secret. Standing side by side with the forbearing, hidden cursed prince, I tore apart the royal family’s hypocritical lies and taught every soul who dared to underestimate me: the gentlest saint can wield the darkest, most unforgiving power.

Before I died, I married mob boss Dante in my sister's place.

Five years of marriage, and I was nothing but her replacement. He hated me for stealing her spot. My parents were ashamed I couldn't make him love me. Everyone just waited for her to come back.

Christmas Eve—fire tore through the mountain estate. Dante's first move? Sprint straight to my sister, fresh off the plane. My parents escaped right behind him. Nobody remembered the pregnant wife locked in the dressing room. Smoke and flames took me and my baby while they held each other outside, celebrating they'd made it out alive.

I opened my eyes on the day they cornered me with divorce papers.

My parents threw the documents at me. My sister stood there smirking, ready to slide into my place. This time? I didn't cry. Didn't beg. I picked up the pen and signed.

They wanted me gone? Done.

The apocalypse has arrived, but I am merely the villainous master in a doomsday novel.

The mission given to me by the system is to humiliate my kind-hearted fiancée, Avery.

Looking at the only dry rations left before us, I stomped them into pieces right in front of all the wasteland refugees, grinding them into the muddy ice and snow with the sole of my shoe, and commanded condescendingly:

"Bitch, lick it clean."

Instead of running away, she trembled and knelt before me submissively, lifting her head with a look of near-morbid attachment burning in her eyes.

Wait a minute, didn't the original script say she would become my mortal enemy?

Why is she kissing me?

For five years, my crime boss husband made me take off my wedding ring nine times—all for his precious damsel in distress.
When we first married, he promised me: "From now on, you're my queen, the queen of New Orleans."
But whenever Odette came crying for help, he'd change his tune: "Mr. Laurent saved my life, Cordelia. I owe his family everything."
And like a fool, I believed him eight times.
Eight times I watched from the shadows as he took another woman to our favorite restaurants.
Eight times I explained to the crew that our "separation" was just giving each other space.
Eight times I watched her move into my bedroom, use my dishes, sleep in my bed.
All for a man who kept making me slip off my ring, then slide it back on, over and over again.
Until the ninth time, when he said he needed to provide sperm for her fertility treatment, and I offered to leave.
He still thinks this is just another temporary break, expecting me to come crawling back in a month like always.
He'll never know I've already booked my ticket out of here.

Twenty-five years of being overlooked.
My husband Steven prefers my best friend Liliana, and my son Terry and grandson Roy treat me like a maid.
I thought I could endure this life forever, but when Steven gave my dream trip to Liliana, I couldn't take it anymore.
I decided to leave and stop wanting their love.

The day I won the competition, my sister's heart "failed," and she could never stand again.

From that moment, she claimed all the favoritism.

Looking at my wall of honors, she sat in her wheelchair, heartbroken: "Chloe is so amazing, unlike me—just a burden who could die any moment."

My brother's heart ached for her. He grabbed a baseball bat and smashed all my trophies to pieces, defending her honor.

When I was selected as dance troupe captain, tears streamed down her face: "If I hadn't gotten sick, could I have shined on the Lincoln Center stage too?"

My parents turned to scold me for showing off, drugging me before the audition and ruining my chances.

Later, she had a breakdown and went live on Instagram, swallowing pills while sobbing that she didn't deserve love.

My childhood sweetheart, my fiancé, rushed to her side immediately. He dropped to one knee and slipped my diamond engagement ring onto her finger.

Later, I was killed by an armed robber. As I lay dying, I made one last desperate call for help.

He hung up impatiently:

"Mia needs me to hold her hand during her IV treatment. Stop being so fucking unreasonable!"

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my sister's heart "failed."

As the New Year's Eve bells were about to toll, my fiancé, Tristan, slid an annulment agreement in front of me.
 
"Blair's New Year's wish is to experience an engagement. Just play along. After tonight, we'll reinstate our engagement."
 
Wearing my custom engagement gown, Blair looked at me with red-rimmed eyes and a pout.
 
"Sienna, if you really mind, let's just forget it. With my failing health, who knows if I'll even live to see next year..."
 
Tristan immediately grasped her hand with heartache, then turned to glare at me. "Could you stop being so selfish for once?"
 
Throughout our three-year relationship, I had compromised time and time again, all because of his favorite excuse: "She's been sickly since childhood. As her childhood friend, I promised to grant her one New Year's wish every year."
 
My fingers brushed against the ultrasound photo in my pocket—the pregnancy confirmation I hadn't yet had the chance to show him. Looking at the face of the man I had loved for three years, I felt like an absolute joke.
 
"Fine, you both have my blessing."
 
I took the pen and signed my name without a hint of hesitation.
 
The stolen dress, along with my fiancé—I didn't want either of them anymore.

Caspian kept me locked in the basement as a living blood bank.
This mafia don was also my husband. Ever since he discovered I could heal instantly, I became nothing more than a consumable—kept alive to sustain another woman.
That woman in the hospital bed was his stepmother in name, his forbidden obsession in reality—the desire he could never speak aloud.
Unable to claim her, he went mad. He tried to fill her dying body with my life.
When she was poisoned, he forced toxins down my throat to test antidotes, watching coldly as I convulsed on the floor, vomiting black blood.
When assassins came for her, he yanked me in front as a human shield, letting bullets turn my body into a sieve.
Covered in blood, I clutched his pant leg, begging through tears for him to just kill me.
But to protect his precious stepmother, he kicked me away without hesitation, his voice utterly cold: "Stop playing dead, Aria. You're a monster. You can't die anyway."
What he didn't know was that every time a mermaid heals, she burns through her soul's essence.
Through each shattering and mending, he was draining my very source of life.
Today, he strapped me to the operating table again, ready to drain more blood for his forbidden love.
He had no idea this would be the last time.

For five years, Alpha Ethan hid Maya—the mate he had marked and the Luna his pack never knew existed.
Whenever he abandoned her for another woman, he gave Maya a blood-signed token promising her anything she desired.
After his hundredth broken promise, Maya finally used them.
Not for wealth. Not for revenge.
She asked to dissolve their mate bond and leave his pack forever.
Only when the bond shattered did Ethan realize what he had lost. But beyond his borders, the feared Rogue Alpha was already waiting to offer Maya everything Ethan never did:
A home. A family. And the chance to become someone’s first choice.

In that luxury cruise ship fire that shocked the world, my husband Gordon Mercer—the ship's captain—pried open my bloodied fingers and fastened the last intact life vest onto his first love.
In my past life, he locked me inside the blazing cabin. First, the flames devoured me. Then, as the ship broke apart, the icy ocean swallowed me whole. I drowned in the depths.
When I opened my eyes again, I'd returned to that life-or-death moment—the ship about to sink, alarms tearing through the night.
Watching Gordon clutch that trembling woman in his arms, I didn't break down sobbing like before. I didn't beg.
Instead, I laughed coldly and threw the life vest at their feet.
"Since you two are so desperate to die together, go right ahead."

Five years ago, on my wedding day, my fiancé Vincent fucked my best friend in the bridal suite.

Five years later, I returned to New York with my husband—the most powerful Mafia boss in Naples. At Atelier Milano, my former best friend Bianca circled my custom gown like a vulture, pestering the staff about meeting the legendary Mrs. Salvatore.

She had no idea the woman she pitied as a pathetic nobody was the very person she was dying to impress.

I saved a dying mobster three years ago. Vincent Ricci—New York's most feared Godfather.

He decided I was his. Private jets, five-million-dollar proposals, the whole nine yards. I fell for it.

The night before our wedding, his enemies took me. Three days of torture left me blind. Everyone said he'd never marry damaged goods. He married me anyway and spent three years treating me like a queen.

Yesterday I fell down the stairs and my sight came back.

But that's when I found out about my perfect husband's dirty secret.

Because of his grandfather's dying wish, Supreme Court Chief Justice Garrick Vance—the most powerful beast-shifter in the city—was forced to marry me, a human court clerk who had secretly loved him for years.

For six years we pretended to be strangers at work while he remained ice-cold toward me and our daughter Wren at home. When his celebrity ex-girlfriend Seraphina returned from overseas, I watched him come alive for another woman—attending her parties, rushing to her side at midnight.

Meanwhile, our five-year-old daughter waited every night for a father who never came home.

The day Wren nearly died from his careless gift, I finally signed the mate bond dissolution papers.

This time, he's lost us forever.

The loan sharks who kidnapped us wanted payment for my twin sister's gambling debts—in blood.

When my FBI negotiator father showed up with his tactical team, he found Lily with a paper cut, crying her heart out. I was dying from a gunshot wound in a basement below.

I called him with my dying breath: "Dad, please send help. I'm bleeding out."

"Are you kidding me right now, Emily? Your sister just went through hell, and you're pulling this pathetic stunt for attention? How sick are you?"

He hung up. I died alone, dismissed as a liar.

Three days later, they found my body. And the truth that came with it burned their perfect world to ash.

I thought I was marrying the New York Godfather out of love. I didn't know I was just a walking blood bank for his fake 'savior'—my illegitimate half-sister.

My father, my brother, my husband... they bled me dry, framed me, and even demanded my unborn baby's cord blood to keep a murderer alive.

When I finally learned the truth, I didn't cry. I didn't scream.
I simply locked the doors, scheduled the emails that would shatter their reality, and left them a charred corpse in a towering sea of fire.

They thought they watched me burn. I let them descent into absolute madness.

"Stop—Daniel, the fk are you doing! I came here to learn to swim, not get fked!"
In the pool, because my kicks were all wrong, Daniel—my husband's cousin—told me to wrap my legs around his waist to "feel the rhythm."
Except I was wearing that scarlet bikini Vincent shoved me into—practically nothing. Even worse, Daniel's rk-hard ck in those thin trunks was jammed right up against my py.
Every time he kicked, that thing dragged right over my ct, like it was about to shove straight inside.

The morning of our wedding, Dante Russo led the hit that wiped out my family.
Branded a traitor, stripped of my name, I spent three years scrubbing blood from dog kennels at the docks. I lost my hands, my music, and three babies I never got to hold.
Then I learned the truth: there was no hit. My parents and the man I loved staged it all—to teach me a lesson, because my adopted sister Isabella cried that I’d hurt her.
Now Dante is marrying Isabella. And he wants me there on my knees, pouring her champagne.
I said yes.
But I bled out on the concrete the night before.
They think I’m sulking. They smash everything I ever gave them to punish me for not showing up.
And when my body is finally wheeled into their wedding in a black bag, the most dangerous men in Gotham City will learn what they’ve done.
Too late.

"You sure dispatch called this... natural causes?" I gripped the steering wheel, staring at the perfect suburban house.
"That's what they said," Gates muttered. The victim's father, Arthur, stood at the door in pressed khakis, weeping.
He swore his daughter, Grace, died in her sleep last night after eating vanilla pudding.
But the moment we stepped inside, a suffocating cocktail of cheap lavender spray and rotting meat punched me in the sinuses.
In the living room, SpongeBob SquarePants was blasting at maximum volume. Grace was slumped in a recliner. When Gates gently pinched her wrist to lift her arm, a sickeningly soft, tearing rip echoed in the room.
Her grayish skin completely degloved, fused to the leather armrest. Beneath the liquefied muscle tissue, frantic rows of tiny white maggots wriggled into the exposed bone.
A body that died "last night" doesn't breed maggots.

My mother-in-law, Dorothy, sneered that I dressed like a janitor. My husband, Adrian, called my design sketches "a waste of fabric." Even the son I carried for nine months called me an embarrassment, saying he wished his dad’s secretary, Madison, was his mother.
For eight long years, I was nothing but an unpaid maid in this house.
Until today, when the doctor told me severe exhaustion was causing my heart to fail. And my eight-year-old son just pointed at the bag of medicine in my hand, shrieking, "You just have a headache! Why are you wasting money on medicine?"
I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I went home, opened the bottom drawer of Adrian’s desk, and signed the divorce papers he had been secretly preparing.
In their wildest dreams, they could never imagine that the sole trigger condition for my late mother's $50 million trust fund was for me to leave this man.

Chase Harrington hadn't willingly spoken to me since I hit puberty and got fat.

So, when my childhood best friend actually handed me a Diet Coke on the morning of our Yale alumni interviews, I should've known it was a trap. Instead, my stupid heart fluttered. I thought he still cared.

I drank it.

When I woke up, my hair covered the hardwood floor.

Sloane Kensington, the undisputed queen bee of our school, stood over me holding scissors. "Damn, Chase. Those sleeping pills worked like a charm. Homegirl is practically bald."

I looked at Chase in disbelief.

The boy who used to promise we'd get married just checked his phone.

"Sloane lost a game of Truth or Dare," he said, sounding completely bored. "If she didn't cut your hair, she'd have to go hit on some freak on the street. Besides, it's not like you've got an image to maintain, Gwen. You're fat. It's just hair. Deal with it."

That was the exact moment the boy I loved died to me.

I didn't yell or cry. I just opened my laptop and changed my college application from Yale to Stanford—three thousand miles away on the West Coast.

My husband suffered a massive heart attack mid-thrust inside my best friend.

Now, the ER doctors are clutching his surgical consent forms, waiting for me—the legal wife—to sign.

Over the phone, my mother-in-law shrieked in absolute despair while my best friend sobbed in terror.

I turned a deaf ear to them, taking my time to admire my makeup in the mirror.

There was absolutely no rush. Waiting until I changed into this pitch-black mourning dress to slowly watch his countdown to death wouldn't be too late.

After all, when my parents and my son, Noah, were lying in the morgue, I survived a dead-silent night exactly like this one, shedding tears until my eyes literally bled dry.

Now, it is finally my husband's turn to go to hell and atone for my family.

I was the long-lost Whitmore heiress, finally brought home after eighteen years in the system.

I'd been home for exactly two days when my adopted sister brought me a cake, and my mother urged me to eat it, her smile dripping with fake warmth.

[Don't eat it.]

The words flashed in red across my vision.

[It's a soul-swap curse. Your mother knows. She wants you to trade bodies with the fake heiress so you'll take the fall for Camille's enemies and die, while Camille keeps your healthy body to live in luxury.]

My hands trembled, but not from fear. I burst into tears, sobbing that I wanted to save it for my birthday tomorrow.

Later that night, I snuck back to the group home. I fed the cake to my best friend in the wheelchair—the only person in this world who actually deserved a miracle.

Now? Camille is screaming, trapped in my friend's broken, disabled body. And my mother is scrambling to undo a spell that's permanent.

They thought I was easy prey. But they forgot—I grew up in a place where you fight to survive.

My ex-boyfriend told me to divorce my "nobody" husband to become his secret mistress, completely unaware that my husband is the Supreme Mafia Godfather.
"Divorce that loser, Valeria. I'm a Capo now. I can give you the world," Gideon smirked, tossing a cheap gala pass at my feet.
I looked at the coward who abandoned me in a shootout three years ago and actually laughed. Give up my throne as the Donna of North America’s most powerful syndicate to be a street thug's dirty secret?
At the Blood Oath Gala, I'll show him that I am no longer the woman I was three years ago.

When my best friend’s biological father found her, she became the heiress to a crime family.

I was the extra baggage she insisted on bringing home. My greatest talent? Making one penny do the work of eight.

She handed me $450 million and put me in charge of the family’s new project.

I couldn’t bear to spend it. I paid out just $7,500.

Then the project collapsed. The family’s captains turned against her, and a rival boss showed up with his men waiting downstairs.

The girl who’d been raised in her place slid a transfer agreement across the table.

“Give me your shares. Walk away from the family. And I’ll make sure your gold-digging little friend gets out alive.”

With tears in her eyes, my best friend pressed her last bank card into my hand.

But I couldn’t stop staring at two words in the agreement:

Without compensation.

Before she could sign, I lunged forward and tore it to pieces.

“Hold on.”

“For seventy-five hundred dollars, you get the docks, the house—and her?”

When my parents forced me to donate my organs to my sister, I didn't refuse or run away. I just quietly signed the surgical consent forms, willingly giving my kidney to Vivienne, their beloved daughter.

A few months ago, my sister was hospitalized with kidney failure. The doctor said she needed a transplant. My family's first thought was me—the backup daughter they'd kept around all these years.

When my husband Allen took my hand with tears in his eyes and said, "Only you can save her," I agreed without hesitation.

When the doctor explained the surgical risks and potential complications, I smiled and nodded my understanding.

My parents said I'd finally learned what sisterly love meant.

Even Allen, who'd always been cold to me, held my hand gently and said, "The surgery's safe. You're so healthy, nothing will go wrong. When you recover, I'll take you to Hawaii."

But they don't know that no matter how the surgery goes, I won't be around to celebrate.

Because I just got my own test results—I have terminal brain cancer. I'm going to die anyway.

To marry Vincent Romano, I survived twenty-eight near-death experiences over five years.
The first: city hall's foundation collapsed — three broken ribs. The second: a truck rollover — my right leg nearly amputated. The twenty-seventh: a chandelier in the bridal shop, three days unconscious.
All of Seren City laughed at me. Romano's most cursed bride-to-be. Yet I loved him still.
Until the twenty-eighth time.
When the bomb detonated outside city hall, I threw myself over Vincent on instinct. The blast shifted my organs and shredded my back. The day my stitches came out, I felt no relief at having survived.
Because I stood outside the study and heard his voice.
"Her organs were badly damaged. She almost actually died." Antonio's horror was audible. "Vincent, you used to treat her so well—"
"People change." A pause, then quieter: "I did want to marry her once. But before Amelia, I had no idea what it meant to truly want someone. I acknowledge the debt — I just can't spend my life repaying it." Another pause. "Father won't agree, and she won't let go easily."
"So." His voice turned to ice. "The only clean way out is to make her give up on her own. As long as Cassandra refuses to break the engagement, the accidents must continue. Until she walks away."

I bought my five-year-old son a Captain America shield for his birthday.

But when I landed in New York, the hospital called.

"Your son died during the medical procedure your husband authorized."

Marcus had signed Axel up as a living donor. For his mistress's kid.

While our baby bled out on the operating table, Marcus was cutting birthday cake with his new family.

Even used Axel's favorite Superman pillow as decoration.

I stared at my child's mutilated corpse and made a promise.

You fed my baby to wolves for a whore's smile. Time to return the favor, Marcus.

After Ava lost her voice in a car crash, my brother fled the country overnight.
My parents begged me to take his place and honor the engagement.
For three years, I stayed by her side. I took care of her, helped her through rehab, and waited for the day she could finally speak again.
But at our wedding, my brother came back to stop it.
In front of everyone, my parents pressured me to step aside. "You were only filling in for Ethan in the first place. Now that he's back, it's time to give his fiancée back."
Ava stopped walking toward me and, without a second thought, ran straight into my brother's arms.
Later, she tried to smooth things over in private. She said it was only to test my brother's intentions, and promised that in the end, she would still marry me.
She thought I'd stay right where I was, like I had for the past three years, waiting for scraps.
What she didn't know was that I had already accepted the Godfather's secret appointment. That very night, I boarded a helicopter bound for the North District.
Now that the man she never got over was back, it was time for me to claim the underground empire that belonged to me.

I am just a simple florist making an honest living. Yet, somehow, the city's untouchable elites keep suffering horrific, freak accidents right after someone buys my flowers. The police know I'm involved, but they can't prove a thing. After all, how much damage can a few blooming petals really do?

Grant postponed our engagement three times. First, because Vivian was in the hospital. Second, because she was feeling low. Third, because her concert mattered more than our future.

So I asked the man who’d always been there—Adrian Kessler.

“Are you interested in marrying me?” He said yes without hesitation.

We set the date for the same night as Vivian’s concert.

While Grant was clapping for her, I was walking down the aisle toward the only man who never made me wait.

He didn’t find out until he showed up to his own celebration dinner and found the restaurant empty. “Where is everyone?” he demanded. Someone laughed.

“Adrian and Nadia are getting engaged tonight. It’s streaming live.”

Grant stormed into my ceremony, screaming that I belonged to him.

Adrian knocked him down with one punch.

“You had three chances,” I told him. “You blew every one.”

Now Grant keeps sending me flowers, begging for another chance. But I’m wearing a pink diamond tiara designed just for me, standing beside a man who chose me first.

He postponed our engagement three times. I only needed one chance to marry the right man.

I was Elara, a wingless half-sprite. The lowest of the low in the Obsidian Court. My job was to clean up the mess left by the dragons.
But right now, the biggest mess was inside my own stomach.
I was pregnant. With the Dragon King's child.
He didn't remember that night. He only remembered waking alone — and swearing to crush whoever had touched him into dust.
So I said nothing. I served him. I hid. And the three little voices only I could hear kept whispering the one thing I couldn't believe: that scary dragon is soft on you, girl.
Then my belly began to leak his golden aura, and his jealous betrothed smelled it first.
When the King learned the truth, he didn't rage. He looked at my stomach and said the child could not stay.
He never told me why.
So while he was away at war, I climbed onto the Sky Bridge over the endless Void — and I jumped. Better to fall than to let them take my baby.
I never expected something down there to catch me.

During a luxury cruise, Lydia is drugged, blacks out, and wakes in the hands of Ethan, a notorious arms dealer, the most feared name in the UK, and a whispered warning across Europe.

He catches her by the ribbon in her hair and turns her escape into a dead end, yet he never takes her life.

While everyone waits for the moment she breaks, Ethan clasps a bracelet around her wrist, a mark she never manages to remove.

"They say you'll redeem me," he murmurs, voice dangerously low as he tilts her chin up. "But I only want to lock you away forever."

He thinks he's playing a game of conquest. Instead, he's the one who surrenders. Until the day he kneels, blood on his hands, a ring held out like a confession.

"Good girl," he breathes. "Call me 'honey.' Stay with me, forever."

I'd sacrificed everything—my savings, my future—to rescue a memoryless man from the twisted wreckage of his car. Day by day, we developed feelings for each other. He slipped a simple silver ring onto my finger, calling me his sole comfort, the only light in his life.
However, the light was violently extinguished the day his true wife burst into the hospital. Her bodyguards slamming me against the wall was just the beginning. As the blows rained down, I learned his real identity: Ethan Vance, the heir of the richest family in the L City.
The most damning evidence was their marriage certificate, issued two years before we had met. The ultimate betrayal came as his wife deliberately snapped my fingers and stripped me of my last shred of dignity. He saw it all with icy detachment, then turned and pulled her close. "Lana doesn’t need to be reasonable. I’m the one backing her ".

The End Times Came, and I Awakened the Ability to Grow Vegetables

Every time I catalyzed a vegetable, it drained my stamina and life force.

But my sister Lucy needs to eat, and everyone in the camp needs to eat.

So I gave my life to the soil, exchanging life for food again and again.

Cult leader Silas patted my shoulder and said I was God's gardener, that Eden was born because of me.

I thought I had found a home.

I distributed the vegetables I grew to everyone in the camp.

Until I discovered the blue-green veins on my sister's arm.

Until I discovered that the bottle of "holy water" I fed her every day wasn't medicine at all.

Until I discovered that my sister had been sent to their altar.

Getting pregnant by her boss after a one-night stand and suddenly leaving her job as stripper was the last thing Serena had hoped for, and to make matters worse he is the heir to the mafia.

Serena is calm while Christian is fearless and outspoken but somehow the two have to make it work. When Christian forces Serena to go through with a fake engagement she tries her hardest to fit in the family and the luxurious life the women live while Christian is fighting as hard as he can to keep his family safe, but everything takes a turn when the hidden truth about Serena and her birth parents comes out.

Their idea was to play pretend until the baby was born and the rule was to not fall in love, but plans don't always go as expected.

Will Christian be able to protect the mother of his unborn child?

And will they end up catching feelings for one another?

Alpha werewolves should be cruel and merciless with unquestionable strength and authority, at least that’s what Alpha Charles Redmen believes and he doesn’t hesitate to raise his kids to be the same way.
Alpha Cole Redmen is the youngest of six born to Alpha Charles and Luna Sara Mae, leaders of the Red Fang pack. Born prematurely, Alpha Charles rejected him without hesitation as weak and undeserving of his very life. He is reminded daily of his father’s hatred for him paving the way for the rest of his family to become the same.
By adulthood, his father’s hatred and abuse towards him has spilled over into the rest of the pack making him the scapegoat for those with the sadistic need to see him suffer. The rest are simply too afraid to even look his way leaving him little in the way of friends or family to turn to.
Alpha Demetri Black is the leader of a sanctuary pack known as Crimson Dawn. It’s been years since a wolf has made their way to his pack via the warrior’s prospect program but that doesn’t mean he’s not looking for the tell tale signs of a wolf in need of help.
Malnourished and injured upon his arrival, Cole’s anxious and overly submissive demeanor lands him in the very situation he’s desperate to avoid, in the attention of an unknown alpha.
Yet somehow through the darkness of severe illness and injury he runs into the very person he’s been desperate to find since he turned eighteen, his Luna. His one way ticket out of the hell he’s been born into.
Will Cole find the courage needed to leave his pack once and for all, to seek the love and acceptance he’s never had?

Content Warning: This story contains descriptions of mental, physical and sexual abuse that may trigger sensitive readers. This book is intended for adult readers only.

Meet the Devil’s Saints Motorcycle Club….

When Taz was just a little girl, her family was killed and she barely survived. Raised by her uncle in the club, she abandoned them after an incident at the mother house. Circumstances bring her back to the Saints where she meets Riffraff, a single dad to a daughter attending school abroad.
Taz puts her life back together and finds that there can be more to life than just working and training for her next MMA fight. Including love and a family that she never thought that she would have. While training for her next big fight, she befriends a high school history teacher.

Evie moved to Massachusetts from Texas as a way of starting over after losing her husbands. On the third anniversary of their murders, she meets two Saints, Ink and Tank. Evie is a sub desperately seeking Doms to direct her life outside of the classroom. Ink and Tank discover that they were missing a part of them that the little Texan fills perfectly.
But just as they’re building a life and future together, Evie’s past comes back in the form of the ultimate former mother-in-law from hell.

Nessie is the niece of the club president on the run from an abusive ex. Hiding in the clubhouse known as the Shack, she finds comfort in the arms of one of the Saints. Knuckles is named for the tattoos on his fingers and the often-busted knuckles that he has.
Protect What’s Mine
Defend What’s Mine
But when Nessie’s ex catches up to her, can Knuckles protect and defend what is his? Or will it be the Scottish beauty who speaks to the dead that protects and defends the Saints?

Nessie makes a prediction that the club manwhore, Chance, will fall for a woman who doesn’t want him. And it will be fun to watch. He doesn’t believe it. There’s not a woman that he can’t seduce.
Except the new teacher at the daycare that the club just bought. She’s not impressed with him and calls him out on his actions. When he’s forced to look at himself, he discovers that she might be right. And she’s the only woman who isn’t falling under his spell.
Or is she?

These four women befriend Shiloh who opens a couple of stores that the teens in the club love. She finds a kindred spirit with Pagan, a brother who is a single dad to two little girls. But inner turmoil in her family puts his daughters at risk.

All through these stories, there are a few people to offer assistance and guidance. Molly and his pretties are always there to assist. But that’s another story….

•Mature Content•

Lycan prince Kaden Moretti is known for his ruthlessness and cruelty, but that is until one day when he finds the injured angel in the forest--Isabelle Morgan who is supposedly his mate

Captived and kept away from civilization for her whole life, Isabelle knows nothing about the world. On her escape from her malicious captors, she finds herself getting exposed to a new yet dangerous world and worst of all she doesn't know her destination. Rescued by the handsome Lycan prince and being under his care, for once in her life she leans onto someone. But she doesn't know he's her mate, neither she understands the mate bond.

A beauty, timid and fearful of even the smallest things, fragile like a petal Kaden finds himself letting go of his hard exterior for the girl who seems to land within his arms from heaven itself. But Isabelle's captors aren't going to do stop chasing her, what will happen when the devils will begin chasing them? Will Kaden be able to save his Angel?

''Well, do you have something to say?''
A strapping, muscular naked man asked me as he sat across from me as I was also sitting there naked, half-submerged in this large tub of water.
''Don't worry, I won't bite you, baby...''
He said as he moved closer to me, pulling me into his lap and placing me on his leg.
''Wh-what is this, Master?'' I finally asked him as he handed me a small bar.
''I am not your Master,'' he snapped at me in a harsh tone.
''I am your Mate.''

After the death of Alasia's mother five years before, her stepfather used the trust given to her upon her mother's death to support his drinking habits.
Once he was broke and refusing to manage the one low-end job he had, he felt he was left with no other choice. He decided to sell his eldest stepdaughter in the event that he could get enough to move away, and therefore, take her younger brother along with him.
Alasia at the mere age of 16 is sold into slavery into the most fierce werewolf pack, The Crimson Caine, by her overzealous and abusive step-father.
How can she survive under the most ruthless and Alpha?
And what if she finds out she's his MATE?

Why Tech Billionaire Artemis Rhodes would post such a thing?!

"Everyone is talking about the hashtag that just went viral in less than a few hours. Nevertheless, this girl has become a mystery everyone wants to solve. In fact, we have pictures from several people who have seen the girl in person."

The screen of the phone is small but I catch several pictures of me flashing on the screen. This can't be happening!

You know that panic attack I had been pushing down? Well, that thing comes back with a vengeance. It feels like all the air is sucked out of me and my chest gets tight. My vision blurs and I register I'm falling just before things go dark.

"Relax Miss Riley, this is Mr. Rhodes a donor to our hospital. This woman is his fiancee. I'll take things from here." The doctor says and steps aside to let the nurse out.

I watch her scurry away before I focus on the doctor. He's an older man with white hair and a friendly face but he gives me weird vibes.

Wait...did he just say, fiancee?

"I'm sorry what did you say?" I ask.

"I have a proposition for you." The man says.

"A proposition for me? What do you mean?"

"A proposition? It means-"

I wave my hand. "Not that! I'm not an idiot. I mean what proposition?"

"I want you to marry me." He says with a straight face.

So I bet your wondering how a woman who lives in an abandoned train car ends up married to a big tech billionaire.

Well it's simple. We ran right into each other, locked eyes and the rest is history.

Okay, no that's not exactly how it happened. See Artemis Rhodes is in a pinch. He needs a bride by his next birthday...six days from now. So what does he do? He hunts me down like a crazy stalker and offers me a ton of money to marry him.

Crazy right?

Of course I refuse because I have some dignity, but when my world is turned upside down I have no choice but to accept. Thanks to him I can't go back to my old life, and now I'm stuck in his.

I'm his rebellion against his family and the thorn in his flesh...His words not mine...

We are from different worlds and that means eventually those world clash and with it disaster strikes ready to tear the whole scheme apart. You know, just a regular Tuesday.

So what do two people do when everything starts going wrong?

Well let me tell you...

"Kiss me back," he demands, crashing his lips on mine while squeezing my boobs and pinching my nipples.

"I... I can't... I already have a mate!" a throaty sound involuntarily escaped from my lips as I uttered.

In the aftermath of a devastating tragedy that nearly destroys the Clawson pack, Rhea is forced to take on the mantle of Alpha and revive the struggling pack. When Kian, the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, claims that they are fated mates, Rhea is cautiously hopeful, but her lack of a wolf leaves her uncertain.
Despite her reservations, Rhea is moved by Kian's offer of assistance to her struggling pack. However, everything takes a dark turn when Rhea discovers that Kian has only married her as part of a scheme to seek revenge against her family.

As Kian's cruelty and infidelity become increasingly unbearable, a powerful and enigmatic King Daemon, the Alpha of the Thorn pack breaks into her life, who shows interest in her. Despite her initial reluctance, Rhea feels an undeniable pull towards Daemon, causing her to confront a difficult choice between the security of her pack and the potential for a passionate love.

Which will Rhea choose: to follow her heart or her duty?

"You keep speaking as if you have a choice."

"I do have a choice! I'm done with you, Roman Ashfield. Go back to the woman you think is worthy of you and leave me alone."

"You will never be done, Evelyn. Not tonight. Not this week. Probably not this year," he said as he closed the small gap between them.

He heard the satisfying sound of her hitched breath as his fingers trailed the side of her body down to her bare thighs.

"I own you, Evelyn Bright, whether you like it or not."

"You don't own me!"

But the very next moment a moan left her lips when he cupped her between her legs.

"Let's agree to disagree," he whispered.


A broken, possessive billionaire who doesn’t know what love is. A young woman who does. What could possibly go wrong?

Evelyn Bright walked into his business for a typist job and came out a plaything. A dirty secret with a contract. But all she wants to do now is pick up the pieces of her shattered dignity and walk away. Nothing good can come from falling in love with a cold-hearted man like Roman Ashfield.

Roman has very clear rules in his contract. Be available. Be ready. Do not fall in love. If she breaks them she has to leave. Simple. But Evelyn turns his ordered life upside down when she tries to walk away. She keeps testing and pushing his limits but it's not over until he says it is. It’s not love, it can’t be. But what lengths is he willing to go to to keep her where she belongs?

“Please, no, please don’t” I said, a soft cry escaping from my lips.

His blue eyes pierced into mine. Why were they so gorgeous? No, I couldn’t think this way. I hated this man, I hated how he trapped me.

“I'm a sworn virgin to the goddess of Athena,” I said to him. Hades did not like this answer.

"I'll break you soon enough." He said.

“You’re going to suffer for this, Zeus will be furious!” I said after him as he exited the room.

“Zeus would pay to watch."

Kore for the whole summer before turning eighteen has been having vivid and sexual dreams about a mysterious man with blue eyes.

Suddenly, Kore is molested by Eros, the god of sex, and the mysterious blue-eyed man from the dreams saved her. The blue eyed man turns out to be Hades, the death.

Hades has also had these dreams of Kore and suspects them to be prophecies of his future. He attends Kore birthday party and falls for her beauty and youth from afar. The two of them become closer that night when Hades discovers that Kore has the ability to bring life back from the dead, something he did not think possible.

After seeing her power and beauty, Hades asks permission from Zeus, Kore father, to kidnap her and try to get her to fall in love with him.

Will Kore fall in his trap?

Warning: 18+

"I knew I wanted you right from first glance and I came for you."
"Let go of me!!!" I yelled back but when his fingers connected to my skin, I gasped and a moan escaped my lips.
"Do you not like this, my pet?"
I looked at my captor, hunger shooting to my spine and my thighs in heat. I swallowed hard and I gave a nod. "I like it, Daddy."

Kidnapped by a ruthless Mafia Lord, Nora should be scared of her fate but deep down, this monster isn't really a monster. Is it not her fate that she was made for a ruthless mafia?

"Are you wet for us already, baby doll?" Braton's deep voice said, traveling through my nerves and setting down my core.

"Take off your clothes slowly," Lucien commanded, prompting my hands to move to the straps of my dress instantly.

"Go lay on the bed and spread your little pussy wide open for our view." Without hesitation, I did as I was told.

"So fucking responsive."


Sophie was tossed between foster homes, where life seemed an endless cycle of neglect, despair, and abuse. Just when she thought her life was about to plunge into darkness once more, she was taken in by a kind-hearted Mafia Princess.

Little did she know that her friendship with the Mafia princess would attract the attention of the world's dangerous mafia twins. They will do anything possible to make her their little slut which includes killing. They are known as pussy hunters.

But they don't fuck one women twice. Will they go through all the trouble just to have her for one night? Or will there be emotion and attachment involved?