8585 Book(s) Related to daniel and the lions den story

Dominic once told me he loved me—then leaked my intimate photos to the entire school, all to avenge his dead first love.
Seven years later, he discovered that I had given birth to his son, a child suffering from a failing heart.
He ended his engagement, found our son a donor heart, dragged everyone who had ever hurt me to my feet, and finally proposed as death closed in on him.
I put on the wedding dress and became Mrs. Moretti with a smile.
But he never knew that I had returned to his side for anything but love.

I was driving my dad's luxury car to pick up a friend when his secretary stopped me on the spot.
She mistook me for the lover who had sex with my dad in his office.
So she used car theft as an excuse to drag me into the basement, beat me up, and took nude photos of me.
When my dad found out, he asked me to apologize to her.
That's when I realized that in his eyes, his reputation mattered more than his own daughter.
If that's the case, he doesn't need to be the figurehead CEO anymore.

"Daddy... so cold... and it hurts..." When my precious daughter Mia whispered these words in her weak voice, my heart felt like it was being torn apart.
The life-saving medicine was just ten meters away, but that damned anti-magic barrier had become an insurmountable chasm between life and death.
What made me even more furious was that the vampire guarding the gate not only extorted my life savings, but also demanded I kneel like a dog and lick his boots before he would open the door.
He didn't know that if the door stayed closed, it wouldn't just be my daughter who died—his son and mother would perish too!

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now—billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn’t mind. I’d crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That’s when it hit me—he didn’t love me. He didn’t even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn’t even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster—my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I’d met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I’d ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn’t just some random guy. He’s richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he’s not letting me go.

"Oh, it's you. My useless wife."
"You should've seen it coming. Our marriage stopped working a long time ago."
"You're useless as a wife, Ivy. You've never supported my career. And after all this time—you're still not even pregnant."
Kim Evelyn—known to those closest to her as Ivy—never imagined her third wedding anniversary would turn into a nightmare. Her husband, Rico, didn't just betray her—he brought his mistress into their bed. The pain and humiliation scorched her heart, leaving her no choice but to walk away from the home that once symbolized their love.
But Ivy's escape led her into a night that would change everything. Beneath the glimmering lights of an upscale bar, she met Joshua Miller—a dangerously charming man with a captivating smile and an offer too tempting to resist.
"Help me get revenge on the man who betrayed me—my husband. Can you do that?"
"I'll help you get your revenge—but in return, you'll have to treat me the same way you did last night."
Revenge. Sweet, calculated revenge.
But there was a catch: Ivy had to surrender herself to a game far more seductive than anything she'd ever imagined. As vengeance ignited and passion flared, the line between game and reality began to blur. Dark secrets loomed. Hidden dangers stirred. And Ivy was forced to make an impossible choice—move forward and risk losing everything, or retreat into the scars of her past.
Can Ivy take control of this wicked game? Or will she end up the pawn—consumed by desire, ambition, and a betrayal more dangerous than the one she fled?

I snapped photos of pale yellow baby clothes I’d bought at Target, posted them on Instagram captioned “Juno's wardrobe.”
Right after I put my phone away, my mother-in-law Genevieve called and berated me. She claimed I’d lost my mind after our stillbirth, insisted I wasn’t pregnant, and demanded I delete the post.
As soon as we hung up, my water broke.
Six hours later, I woke up worn out on a hospital delivery bed at Devereux Memorial Hospital. No baby cried anywhere.
My husband Elias sat beside me with bloodshot eyes. He pulled a lifelike silicone fake pregnancy belly out and set it on my lap, begging me to accept I wasn’t actually carrying a child. I screamed that I’d given birth and demanded to know where my baby Juno was.
Dr. Beckett and a team of doctors walked in, diagnosing me with pseudocyesis—phantom pregnancy. They said I’d only worn a silicone pad to fake a belly. My parents stood nearby, staring at me with shameful pity.
They forced me onto a psychiatric ambulance. I was locked in a windowless ward, drugged nonstop, tormented by the loss of my daughter, until every ounce of my will faded away...

Fresh off the operating table after barely surviving a miscarriage, I received a $50,000 bill—every cent spent on a waterbed and aphrodisiac aromatherapy on a yacht.
 
I called my husband, the only other person who knew about that account.

Over the phone, he sounded gentle yet aggrieved: "Honey, how could I afford a luxury yacht? It must be a banking error. You just lost our baby; please rest well. My flight to New York is taking off soon, and I'll be right by your side the moment I get back!"
 
I didn't expose the deafening sounds of the wild party in his background. I simply hung up.
 
He thought his lie was flawless. He had no idea that as the hidden heiress of the Windsor Consortium, that priceless yacht, the Poseidon, was actually a coming-of-age gift from my grandmother.
 
I ripped the IV out of my arm and dialed a number I hadn't called in years since marrying beneath my station.
 
"Grandma, you were right. He doesn't deserve me. I'm going to the ship to catch him red-handed."

My younger sister, Freya, was preparing for her advanced training in New York the following week, so she dragged me to the dance studio to help her correct her movements. I put on my dance shoes as usual and stood in the center of the floor, ready to demonstrate a turn.

The moment my foot slipped, I didn't even have time to react.

My body hit the ground hard, and the sharp pain from the back of my head nearly made me lose consciousness. I lay on the cold floor, my throat tight, unable to even cry out for help.

When Mother rushed in, she didn't spare me a glance.

She immediately helped Freya up and took her to the hospital. I missed the critical window for treatment and died on the way to the hospital.

"We’re sending you away for a while. "Devon said.

Pain shot through me. They didn’t want me here anymore.

Was this his way of saying that he didn’t want the baby? Was he too scared to say it to my face?

I tensed when David stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“We don’t want to, but we have no other choice right now,” David said softly.

“I can stay with you,” I whispered, but he was already shaking his head.

“You’re pregnant Val. Someone could slip something into your food or drinks and we wouldn’t be aware of it. You should be as far away from here while we sort this out.”

“So you’re sending me away to go live with some strangers? What makes them trustworthy? Who—”


I’m a human born in a Lycan world.

My mother died during birth, and my father soon after in battle. The only other family I had was my aunt who had no choice but to take me in. In this world of Lycan, I am not welcome. My aunt tried to throw away the burden, me. Finally she found a pack that would take me in.

A pack ruled by two Alphas—the biggest pack known to Lycans. I expected them will reject me too, but things took an unexpected turn. Turned out they wanted me as their mate. But will I be able to handle two Alphas?

PLEASE NOTE: Seperate books from the series are available on the author page. :)

Betrayed by her husband on her own wedding night, Elena's heart is filled with a thirst for revenge. Morgan humiliated her by abandoning her to run off with Marissa, his true lover.

Consumed by resentment, Elena decides to give him a taste of his own medicine. She takes refuge in a nightclub, throwing herself into debauchery and alcohol until she completely loses consciousness.

"WHAT!?" Elena feels her heart stop when she wakes up in a luxurious hotel room. Beside her, an impossibly attractive man sleeps soundly. Panicking, she hastily fixes her clothes and flees the place.

However, escaping the man with whom she spent a night of passion won't be so easy. Elijah, the mysterious stranger, begins to pursue her relentlessly and obsessively, determined to make her his.

Elena feels cornered when he makes an absurd demand: she must take responsibility for having 'stolen his virginity'.

Crazy?

Absolutely!

Three years later, Morgan reappears in her life, demanding that Elena return to his side. Without thinking much, Elena tries to end her relationship with Elijah to close that chapter.

But Elijah has no intention of letting her go. For him, Elena belongs to him; only he can be her lover and her future husband! Elena still has no idea who Elijah really is... nor the power hidden behind his possessive gaze.

I am originally of royal vampire bloodline.
But because of one sentence from my adoptive father, I hid in the human world for decades.
The Church called me a "filthy heretic" because vampire blood flowed in my veins.
Yet they burned a blind girl to death, her crime being that she "couldn't see."
They burned an old blacksmith to death, his crime being that he wanted to learn medicine.
They burned a young mother to death, her crime being that she refused to be violated by the captain of the holy knights.
Bathed in holy light, I realized for the first time—
The demons... are in the light.

I've been married to billionaire Joseph Miller for three years. Pregnant three times. Aborted three times.

Every time, my husband stood outside the operating room, watching them wheel me in.

The first baby, my mother-in-law Victoria said had spinal deformities. The second, my father-in-law Richard showed a "report" claiming heart defects.

I believed them. I thought it was my fault, something wrong with my body.

Until the third pregnancy.

This time I secretly went to another hospital—DNA showed 99.9% match with Joseph, every prenatal indicator perfect.

I rushed home clutching the report, thinking I could finally save my child.

Victoria glanced at it and tossed it on the coffee table. "You are carrying a healthy baby. But the Miller family doesn't need it."

My in-laws forcibly dragged me to the clinic. I screamed to Joseph for help: "That's your child!"

His eyes were red, but he still let them kill my baby.

Desperate, I demanded a divorce. He coldly refused, tearing at my clothes: "Stop being dramatic. Time for the fourth."

I finally understood—I wasn't his wife. I was their breeding machine.

But why? Why force me to keep getting pregnant, only to kill every healthy baby?

Until that night, I pushed open the attic door that had been locked for three years—

And finally understood everything.

The system made me an outcast live-in husband in a werewolf clan for three years. The mission reward: 80 billion dollars. Now there's only half a day left until retirement settlement.

The arrogant pure-blood Alpha wants to force me into a deadly full moon execution array, roaring for me to kneel and die.

I don't even lift an eyelid. Right at quitting time, I directly withdraw my soul, leaving the body to the original owner "Ancestor Wolf Emperor" to handle, while I return to my Manhattan penthouse, sink into the leather sofa, and start a holographic livestream.

"Enjoy your night shift, everyone." I take a light sip of hot coffee, coldly watching the screen as the Wolf Emperor crushes that pure-blood Alpha's spine into mush with one foot, shocking my mission wife and mother-in-law into idiots.

I was a sacrifice.

He was my executioner.

Leora was never meant to live. She just survive beneath the shadows of death, a survival confined between a shady past an ambiguous future. However, her life take a turn for the worse when she is accused of attacking the Alpha's mate.

Abused and humiliated, Leora ends up banished from the pack that hosted her all her life to meet her fate, which turns out to be not only her worst fear, the past she has been running from, but the monster who claims her as his mate.

Can she outlive the fear and find love within the dead heart of a monster? Can she continue to live next to death? And can she restore the happiness that was stolen from her? Or will she be the sacrifice she was always destined to be?

My name is Yamila and I am a plastic artist.
The truth is that I have not had much luck in love and here I am telling you a little about my story. I am from Turkey, in the part of Izmir, and I am 39 years old and have 2 cats, Lola and Martin.
I have to admit that I have not had an orgasm like my best friend tells me.
Francisco knew how to fuck but I knew that he was not a person to fall in love just to have a moment of pleasure.

Khan knew how to make me scream and bring me to pleasure.
His cock was very big and I really liked giving him oral sex and with him I had my first time of anal sex, which I really liked and I bought several sex toys that we enjoyed.
His kisses made me feel so hot, I never thought I would meet a man like him.
I didn't understand how the size of his cock was so big.
just thinking about it makes me wet.


I liked being in charge and I started moaning more and more as he fingered me with one hand and pinched my nipples with the other.
I had seen this position in the Kamasutra book. I think it's called “the hot seat.” I kept putting his penis in and I felt it deep inside, I started moving faster and I climaxed and so did Khan.
Finally, we screamed together with pleasure. He started kissing my entire back and what I liked was that he let me be myself, he didn't want to change me and neither did I want him to.
Afterwards, Khan grabbed the soap and started lathering my entire body and massaging me.


A submissive man is everything a dominant woman needs to be able to fulfill her fantasies and desires. Yamila needs to satisfy her dominant needs and she won't stop until she gets it.
And how interesting and exciting will it be between them?

My mother once told me that someday I would find the one person I was destined to spend forever with.
I found him and he rejected me because he thought I was too weak.

Forced to leave the only home I knew, I did so with my head hung low. As it turned out, the Moon Goddess had other plans for me in the form of three mates. I had to fight for what I wanted and show everyone that despite being an Omega, I was stronger than they thought.

But I wasn't sure if I would make it. I just knew that I had to fight, for myself, and for others they considered to be weak.

*** Age gap, slow burn, shifter reverse harem novel with mature content ***

Elizabeth Stone had loved one man, Crimson Phoenix. But after six blissful years together, he shattered her heart and walked out of her life. Nothing could have prepared her for what came next: within months, he was engaged to her best friend, the beautiful and successful actress Celestine Ford, who was pregnant with his child. Now, four years later, Elizabeth thought she had escaped the scandal that had made her the most hated woman in Flintstone City. However, she is back as the heiress to a vast chain of resorts and hotels. Her life is thrown into chaos once again when her ex returns, begging for her forgiveness and a second chance. But can she truly forgive the man who was the reason she lost her baby?

Lily De Silva had been married to the devilishly handsome CEO of Bradford Enterprises for four years, but their marriage came to an abrupt end when he asked for a divorce due to her inability to bear him another son. Reluctantly, she let him go.

Meanwhile, Grey rekindled his romance with his first love, Natalia, a stunning Italian model, and got her pregnant.

Months later, after their legal divorce, Lily discovered she was pregnant. Grey came crashing back into her life, wanting to win her back. However, Lily, now an heiress, refused to take him back.

Will the enigmatic CEO win her love again, or will hate prevail in the end?

Some love stories begin with fate. Others begin with a lie.

Taine was trained to manipulate, deceive, and follow orders without question. When the Dead Tears Alliance assigns him a simple mission—make an awkward girl named Jane fall in love with him—he never expects to become trapped by his own game. As secrets unravel and betrayal shatters their relationship, Taine discovers that the organization he serves is responsible for far more than he ever imagined, including the deaths of the people he loves most.

Years later, Jane is still haunted by the loss of her family and the boy who broke her heart. Then she meets Sebastian, a mysterious young man who knows things he shouldn't and seems determined to protect her from dangers she doesn't understand. Drawn into a world of telepathy, alien civilizations, and impossible choices, Jane finds herself torn between her first love and a man willing to cross galaxies for her.

But Jane's story is only the beginning.

As fate weaves together the lives of friends, soulmates, angels, aliens, and the Grim Reaper himself, another young woman named Rocksyn discovers she possesses an ancient power capable of changing the balance between life and death. From the shadows of Limbo to distant planets and parallel universes, love will be tested, destinies will be rewritten, and old evils will rise once more.

Bound by fate and separated by worlds, four extraordinary love stories collide in an unforgettable saga of romance, sacrifice, friendship, and the power of choosing your own destiny.

Perfect for readers who love soulmates, love triangles, paranormal romance, found family, aliens, magical powers, and epic adventures that span worlds and lifetimes.

Ma’Heron Denar, the Gamma of the Silvercrest Pack, was the first among the top brass to find his mate although it was in the least ideal situation. However, since all is fair in love and war, they are now together with no regrets… Until their past came back to haunt his beautiful wife, Alexia. A father’s mistake, an old ally now an enemy due to greed and lust, along with a resurgent battle will now jeopardize their love, their lives and their pack. Can Ma’Heron manage to win his wars - both with himself and his long-lost archenemy - for the sake of the pack’s peace, his true love and the hope of having his mate by his side once again?

For seven years, Rose Bennett was Ryan Knight’s secret wife.
While all of New York believed Samantha Hikk would become Mrs. Knight, Rose silently endured a cold marriage to a man who never loved her.
Until one night, Samantha is rushed into Rose’s emergency room pregnant… and Ryan is the one protecting her.
That is the night Rose stops loving him.
What Ryan never knew was that Rose had already given birth to his daughter years ago after he rejected both mother and child without hesitation.
So Rose walks away—with only two suitcases, a hidden daughter, and the shattered remains of seven years.
But the woman Ryan abandoned is no ordinary wife.
Rose is the hidden genius behind Aetheris Medical AI, the revolutionary system about to change the entire medical world.
As Rose rises to the top, becoming untouchable, powerful, and impossible to replace, Ryan finally realizes the devastating truth—
He didn’t lose a woman who loved him.
He lost the only woman he would ever love.
And by then, even their daughter no longer calls him father.

In the sixth year of my life as a Scale-Stripper, I finally gathered the hundredth vial of Dragon Breath Essence.

I knelt before the altar, cradling the crystal bottle in both hands. The golden light swirling within it cast a warm glow across my scarred knuckles. Six years — six years of wandering the most dangerous battlefields of the Five Clans and the plague-ridden wastelands, using dragon breath to heal the wounded. For every person I saved, I had peeled away a living scale from my own flesh, baring the raw, bleeding meat beneath.

Seven scales left on my back.

Only seven.

But as long as it saved my brother Lucien, it was worth it.

Six years ago, during the Dragon Slaughter War, our parents had been assassinated by humans. An ancient curse had struck Lucien; his scales were crumbling away, day by day. He told me that only a hundred vials of Dragon Breath Essence could break the curse.

I held the crystal bottle out to him, my voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "Lucien, a hundred vials. We finally have enough."

Lucien took the bottle and glanced at it.

Then he tossed it off the altar without a second thought.

I went rigid.

Lucien stood at the top of the altar.

"I was never cursed," he said.

My hands were still cupped in the shape of holding the bottle, all ten fingers suspended in midair.

"Our parents never died, either."

"The Dragon Slaughter War six years ago, I planned it. The only one left crippled, with broken wings, was you."

I barely spoke a word before I turned six. Behind our backs, he townsfolk whispered that some foul thing had sealed my tongue.
The first time I truly spoke, I was pointing at our neighbor, Emily.
She was flying a kite just outside our fence. Floating right above her head was a stark, blood-red number.
"Three."
My mom poked her head out of the kitchen, asking if I had just spoken.
I nodded and pointed at Emily again.
By the time they looked, the girl had already run off.
Three days later, Emily was struck and killed by a turning delivery truck at the corner of our street.
After the funeral, my parents held me tight and swore it was just a coincidence.
The second time was when my grandmother, Eleanor Hart, was hospitalized for a stroke.
Dr. Grant took off his glasses, his tone brutally calm. "She is in terrible shape. The family needs to prepare for the worst."
I stood at the end of the hallway. Above my grandmother's head, the number flickered like a slow-burning fire.
"Two hundred and forty."
Claire clamped her hand over my mouth.
Daniel went pale. He knelt down, his voice a harsh hiss. "Sophie, shut up! You cannot say things like that out loud."
Grandmother did not die that night.
After being brought home, she miraculously began to recover. She even spent her afternoons listening to the radio in the sun.
Until the two-hundred-and-fortieth day. She passed away in her sleep.
That was when my family finally understood exactly what my numbers meant.

Six months ago, a yacht explosion consumed everyone I loved: my husband Leonard, my parents, and my brother.
I escaped only because of stomach pain that kept me from boarding. My adopted sister Claire became the sole survivor.
Since then, I've become an empty shell.
Even after being diagnosed with terminal uterine cancer, even while carrying my late husband's child, I've endured the agony of chemotherapy alone, exhausting what little strength remains to scrape together money for Claire—who hides away in a private care facility, claiming severe PTSD.
Until this winter day, with a blizzard approaching.
Dragging my dying body to my husband's memorial to pay respects, I discovered a credit card statement—charges made three months after his death.
Following the address on that receipt, I pushed open the door of a luxurious suburban villa.
Inside, it was warm as spring. My parents and brother, who should have been at the bottom of the ocean, stood there perfectly alive.
At the center of the room, my husband—the man I'd grieved for day and night—was kissing my adopted sister, his lips tender against hers.
The whole family was celebrating, raising glasses to toast the infant cradled in Claire's arms—barely a month old.
There had never been any disaster at sea.
It was all a meticulously planned hoax—their twisted way to erase me from their lives forever.

Lydia's POV

"The patient in Bed 7 has been here three months now, right? Not a single family visit."

"Her husband just pays the bills and leaves. Doesn't even look at her. Poor thing."

I lay in the hospital bed, listening to two nurses whispering outside my door. My fingers rested weakly against the edge of the mattress.

Three months ago, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer.

My husband, Sebastian Carter, came once. He stood in the doorway—didn't step inside—signed the papers with a blank expression, and never came back.

Sebastian was a writer. He locked himself in his study all day, leaving me to spend night after night alone in the living room. We lived under the same roof like strangers from different worlds.

I'd grown used to this hollow marriage. I didn't even bother calling him anymore.

Footsteps echoed outside.

I turned my head toward the door. Sebastian stood there in his familiar charcoal coat, his face expressionless.

"You came." I was surprised. I forced myself to sit up, my body weak and trembling.

Sebastian didn't answer. He walked straight to the bedside and set a document on the nightstand. "Sign it."

I picked it up. The words at the top read: 'Divorce Agreement.'

I waited two years for a donor heart. When one finally came, my husband gave it to Odette Ashworth, the girl who had been living my life.
My cardiologist gave me one week. So I made arrangements to have my body cryopreserved.
And I donated it to the very lab where Odette worked.
The day I signed the papers, my son threw his arms around me and said he was so glad Mommy and Aunt Odette were friends again.
My parents told me they were proud I'd finally learned what it means to be a sister.
My husband smiled, relieved, and said I'd finally let go of my grudges and started being reasonable.
I smiled back. They were right. This time, I really had learned my place.
I was going to hand the Ashworth name back to Odette and give every last one of them exactly what they wanted.

"Let Aria have the Stanford recommendation. Quinn owes her."
I stared at the family group chat—the one I wasn't in—and let out a cold laugh.
In my past life, I went completely hysterical over this, only to earn my family's disgust and a miserable death.
Now, reborn and given a second chance, I looked at the room full of guests celebrating My success, and walked straight to the microphone.
"Everyone, the party is over. I'm turning down the Stanford spot."
Under my family's stunned gazes, I dumped my champagne into the trash bin.
This rotten family? I'm done with them.

Victoria discovered that I hadn't submitted any supplemental medical expense claims for two weeks.
She assumed I had finally been disciplined and had given up what she called "the exploitative nature of the lower class."
Little did she know, my backpack held the signed divorce papers and my mother's death certificate.
As I turned to leave, I was still wearing the discounted trench coat she'd casually given me three years ago when we got married.
What she didn't know was that I, a deep-sea geology genius from MIT, willingly endured three years of her humiliation and ridiculous rules, just so my mother could stay in her conglomerate's private hospital to prolong her life.
Now, my mother has died because of unpaid bills , and even her ashes are carried by me in a cheap canvas bag.
Now that my loved one is dead, there's no need for me to continue being her obstructive dog on Wall Street. The lives she owed with those approval forms, I will settle with the collapse of her entire conglomerate empire.

On a stormy night, a horrific crash unfolded on the overpass. The victim was brought to the city forensic center.
My husband, Ethan, slipped on his gloves and expertly examined my shattered body, his voice detached. "Record this: Female, approximately twenty-five years old, suffered severe trauma before death."
His assistant sighed. "That's rough. Not a single family member showed up."
Just then, the assistant slid a misshapen silver band off my mud-streaked finger.
"Sir, this ring... isn't it identical to the one you keep in your desk drawer?"
With a sharp clatter, the scalpel slipped from Ethan's hand and hit the floor.

Three days before my wedding, I found a spreadsheet on my fiancé’s laptop.
It was called Operation Prank Nora.
Five years of my life, itemized and checked off. The fake terminal diagnosis. The fellowship I gave away. The condo I signed over to my best friend.
And one new row, still blinking: Fake wedding.
My fiancé. My best friend. My stepbrother. The doctor who told me I was dying. They’d built a group chat around my tears and a running bet on when I’d figure it out.
They thought I’d cry. They thought I’d hand Ethan to Maddie with my blessing, like a good dying girl.
Instead, I made one phone call to my wedding planner.
On Saturday, two hundred guests are going to see a slideshow.
I won’t be there to watch.

On the birthday I shared with my twin sister, my family threw her a party—and called my absence a tantrum.
None of them knew I was lying in the cellar beneath their feet.
With broken fingers, I'd sent my husband the one word he swore would bring him running from anywhere: Lighthouse. He called it a guilt trip and told me to be at the party by seven.
So they toasted my sister. They tossed my place card in the trash. They shoved my gift onto a closet shelf without opening it.
By the time they finally lifted the lid, it was far too late.

A romance full of drama, twists, and passion
After a romantic disappointment, Paulina Perez, a shy governess, decides it's time to change and accepts the help of the biggest womanizer she knows, Simon Salvatore, her employer.
Against all of his rules, Simon teaches Paulina the art of seduction. However, between lessons, it becomes difficult not to fall victim to his own tricks.
~
She had a problem.
Even though his attitude went against all of his rules, Simon crouched in front of the governess. Amidst the tears, Paulina's surprise was visible as she looked at him.
"What happened?"
"Nathaniel said that I'm too good for him, that he doesn't want to deceive me and won't continue with me," she replied between sobs.
"Translation: He gave you the brush off," he summarized without thinking, regretting it when she gave in to compulsive crying.
*
He was the solution.
"Being too puritanical only drives men away," Simon argued. "I don't condemn your dream of finding Prince Charming, who will give you a 'happily ever after.' But even if he existed, he wouldn't stay with someone who runs away at the slightest touch."
"I don't know how to be or act differently."
"I can teach you. Just ask."
Paulina looked at him astonished, and Simon thought about saying it was a joke. However, before he withdrew the offer, Paulina gathered her courage and asked,
"Simon, teach me to be a different woman, more...sensual."
Teach me
Learning has never been so pleasurable

My name is Jack Morris, a bottom-rung janitor on the docks.
Every day, people walk all over me, and I live on moldy bread.
Until one day, an old man I saved handed me a photograph. "This is my granddaughter. She's being held at the Black Swan Casino."
That used to be my place. Ten years ago.
Her father was a brother who died in my place.
I was once the king of the underground.
And now, at the banquet celebrating the tenth anniversary of my death, they're treating that old man's granddaughter like a toy.
If my disappearance only made those animals more brazen...
Then they can finish that drink and celebrate their own deaths next.

Come with me and dive into the cosmic worlds of horror and the supernatural, travel through the dark depths of the cosmos, among tales of terror, horror and ghost stories, amid tales from the depths of the mind and haunting stories of supernatural creatures from the dark worlds, in the cursed and dark regions.

Embark on several worlds of supernatural tales and in an anthology of terror and desire to make your spine stand on end.

Even though we are showing each part of the city of desires and horror with tales of dark passions where different people live their lives in which they wandered through each part of the dark city of Lovecraft County, amidst an anthology of tales of pleasures and desires. Amidst tales and anthologies of desires and terror, and desires, between the supernatural and horror, embark on tales of supernatural creatures, ghosts of desires, demons, pleasures and passions that involve those who live in these cities, thus creating ways to change the lives of the city that surrounds them.
Embark on countless tales and anthologies of love, desires, pleasures and dreams, around a luxurious city displaying countless events, whose lives and pleasures participate in an anthology, showing every moment of each being who lives and travels through these cities.