2652 Book(s) Related to a seven deadly sins story in order

I got pregnant the year we could barely afford to eat.

My boyfriend, Mason Caldwell, took out an online loan to pay for the abortion. At least, that was what he told me.

While I was recovering, the best thing I ate was a $2 chicken leg from the discount grocery store.

It broke my heart to watch him work construction all day and deliver food all night. So after three days in bed, I took a serving shift at the private club where my friend worked.

“People fight over these shifts,” she told me. “Good money, big tips. I only squeezed you in because I know things are rough.”

Then she added, “You just serve drinks. Nobody gets to ask you for anything else.”

That night, I found Mason in a VIP room, seated in the middle of a crowd that hung on his every word.

He ordered seven or eight bottles of red wine at $25,000 apiece. Someone said the watch he gave a bottle-service waitress was worth $220,000.

After midnight, he wiped the lipstick off his cheek and reached for the bike helmet beside him.

“Mason, you're still playing house with that woman? Still playing the delivery guy and the factory worker?”

“Your dad's on your ass about getting married. End it already. If she finds out who you are, you'll never get rid of her.”

Mason laughed. “She's not smart enough to figure it out.”

I stood in the dark beside the door, holding my empty tray, my head down.

The clinic had charged $600. The food he'd bought me over those three days came to $30.

$630.

Exactly the price of the fruit platter on their table.

That was all I had cost him.

My name is Balen. Father once said every lion cub is born to run wild across the vast grasslands.

At seven years old, I only mimicked my elder brother’s limp to make him laugh. That innocent jest was regarded as an unforgivable sin by Mother. She forced bitter medicine down my throat and condemned me to a wheelchair, hoping that by enduring pain myself, I would learn empathy and pity.

During those three long, tormented years in the wheelchair, I bore my punishment quietly, believing my brother suffered alongside me. Until I overheard Mother talking to him and learned the brutal truth. It was only after death that I finally gained the strength to run. I could only watch silently as my family drowned in belated guilt and remorse. Their apologies came far too late; they could never give back the freedom they had stolen from me.

A vampire can only share a blood pact with one mate. My husband, Duke Vincent, and I have been in love and bound by our pact for ten years. Back then, he swore his loyalty to me before the vampire gods.

But today, as his cursed first love lies dying, he hands me a vial of the oblivion draught and forcibly breaks our bond.

"Elara, Camilla is dying. Just give me three days. Let me fulfill her dream of a blood wedding."

"I don't want you to hurt. This draught just causes temporary amnesia. Once the wedding ends in three days, I'll go to the capital and get the antidote. You'll remember me, and we'll bind a much grander blood pact."

I stare at his uncompromising expression. Then I take the vial and swallow the potion without a second thought.

What Vincent doesn't know is that I brewed this oblivion draught myself.

There is absolutely no antidote.

In three days, I'll not only forget him completely, but I'll also head to the human capital to start my new job at the Royal Potion Workshop.

I make a living solving cold cases, earning just enough to get by.
Until I saw my long-time crush on the latest corpse.
He used to be an unreachable light, but now he's the deepest darkness before my eyes.
At this moment, he stands across from me, eyes full of innocence, asking for my help, saying he loves me.
Should I arrest him, or trust him?

My three-year-old son died of medical neglect that never should have happened.

My husband let his mistress replace my son's real treatment with some unproven remedy. Then he forged a psychiatric evaluation, took away my custody, and threw me out of my own home.

On the day we buried my son, I got a video call from three years in the past.

The man from three years ago couldn't wait to be a father. The man from today pointed in my face and called me a liar faking madness.

I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene. I just gathered the evidence, piece by piece.

The man in this timeline was rotten to the core. So I would turn to the one who still wanted to save me: the man he used to be.

That "poor pregnant woman" downstairs is currently waddling around Linden Court with her forty-week baby bump, sobbing to the neighbors. She claims the noise of me screwing men in the middle of the night is so loud it's killing her unborn baby.
In my past life, no one in this building believed me. In the end, she used a pair of rusty pruning shears to pin me, dead, to my own living room floor.
Reborn into a new life, I stare at the bulletin board where my face is crossed out with red marker, and I let out a cold laugh.
This time, I absolutely refuse to be the idiot who gets stabbed to death.

My mate and I were each other’s second chance mate. She was a rare female Alpha, and I was just a Beta—but we were in love.
Yet fate was cruel. After I was attacked by rogues and lost the ability to walk, she heartlessly reunited with her first mate.
The cruel irony? He was one of the very rogues who attacked me.
Then, I met my own first mate again. She had become a pack doctor, and she treated my legs, stirring up complicated feelings in me.
One day, against all odds, I stood up again...
And by accident, I discovered the real reason my legs could heal—and the true reason why my first mate left me.
And, I’m not a weak Beta wolf!

"Jake? You sick fuck. Paid for this? His hands inside me?"

Sophia's voice cracked over the intercom, her oiled ass clenching around the masseur's pumping fingers. Live feed burned: her thighs quaking, pussy gushing slick down the table edge. I gripped the chair arms white-knuckled, cock straining—half rage, half blaze.

"Babe... yeah. Full service. Watch you cum harder," I rasped into the mic, voice raw. "Tell him—deeper or stop?"

Tech's eyes flicked to the camera, smirking as he curled two fingers inside her, thumb circling her clit. She bucked, moan ripping free. "Fuck... don't stop. Deeper—wreck me. Jake, you watching? Perverted cuck."

"Every thrust," I growled. "His fingers owning your tight pussy. Bigger rush than mine?"

Her head snapped up, doe eyes locking the hidden lens—pure fury melting to feral hunger. "Hell yes. Stretch me wider. Tell him flip me—fuck me raw while you beg."

Tech froze, glancing my way. My nod sealed it. "You heard her. Pound my girl. Make her scream your name."

He flipped her prone—tits spilling free, legs splayed wide. Cock out, thick and veined, he notched her dripping folds. "Ready to cum for a stranger, Sophia?"

"Do it," she hissed, hips grinding up. "Show Jake what he's missing."

He slammed home—her wail echoing both rooms. Relationship shattered. Door to real breeding? Kicked wide open.

BLURB

My breath hitched, my chest heaving as Salvatore's finger thrust into my pussy. I clenched my teeth, my fingers squeezing the bedsheets as I shamelessly parted my legs even wider.

“Do you want me to stop?” His voice was a low growl.

“No,” I breathed. “Faster…please,” I moaned loudly.

I knew Salvatore's and my attraction to each other was forbidden; he was the heir to a wealthy family, and I was just a maid in his house. But I have had an attraction to him since I met him and couldn't control it.

We both couldn't.


Lyra Whitman is from a poor home and has faced constant bullying in school. She and her mother finally moved away to a new city, where they her mother works as a maid for the Sinclair's, one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the county.

Lyra cannot help but fall for their son, and she is surprised to see that he feels the same. Knowing the dangers of being together due to their different backgrounds, they are forced to navigate their relationship in secret.

The year the gas swallowed the world, I helped design and build Dome City with my own hands, keeping the last survivors alive.

I thought I was protecting hope.

Then I stumbled onto the Council’s secret: the poison outside is fading—but they chose to hide it. Worse, they plan to manufacture and release more gas, locking everyone inside forever, under their rule.

Before I could expose the truth, the person I trusted most struck me from behind.

My girlfriend—Vera Walker.

She took my evidence, stripped my access, and traded me for a higher rank.

When I woke up, I was outside the Dome in toxic fog—my identity erased, my lungs burning, my vision slipping.

They dumped me like trash, certain I wouldn’t last the night.

They forgot one thing.

Dome City is my blueprint, my welds, my pipes—my work.

And I’m back.

As the extreme cold apocalypse arrives, my most trusted protégé conspires with other shareholders to force me from power. Everyone is watching me become a laughingstock.

Just as I reach the brink of desperation and prepare to sign my resignation, countless scrolling comments suddenly cover my vision.

They're frantically displaying information about the future, such as—in three days, the apocalypse will end...

In my past life, my brother-in-law predicted the coming of an extreme cold apocalypse and claimed he would awaken a spatial ability on the day it arrived.
I didn't believe him, but under pressure from my wife's family, I purchased supplies anyway. Then the frozen apocalypse actually came.
I thought we'd survive together as a family, but my brother-in-law had bragged about his spatial ability and massive supplies before awakening. When his ability manifested, the space was pitifully small, and everyone he'd told came to rob us.
When food ran out, my wife's family turned on me, killing and eating me.
Reborn, I've decided to take revenge on my wife's entire family. And it all starts with secretly building my own shelter.

At the Jones family’s political marriage gala, the New York mafia’s most public “celebration”, I, Isabella Rossi, who was a bargaining chip, had been Donovan Jones’s wife for five years.
He was the world’s top perfumer, the kind of man who could coax a scent from his fingertips that made people go mad-and yet, to him, I was a flower with no fragrance at all.
Five years of this marriage, and he had never touched me. The villa’s master bedroom was always his alone, while I was nothing but the “Mrs. Jones” in name-a decorative prop trapped in a luxury cage, so insignificant that even the servants dared to look down on me in secret.
When both sets of parents pressured us for a baby, he wrapped an arm around a famous model and sneered,
“A woman raised off a template like you is only good for taking care of a kid, not for sleeping with.”
He left me behind in the bridal suite-with his younger brother.
Then he took his new fling out street-racing.
That same night, a video of him and the model hooking up in a car shot straight to the top of the entertainment headlines.
And I became New York media’s favorite punchline: the “DISCARDED TROPHY WIFE.”
Just when everyone thought I’d spend the night alone, guarding an empty bed,
I crooked a finger at that eight-pack, absurdly good-looking brother-in-law of mine.
Donovan, you’re right-I am pretty suited to “taking care of a kid.”
Just not a baby. A 6'2", baby-faced college boy.

In his previous life, Evan risked his life to protect his fiancée and brothers in the apocalypse, only to be pushed off the fortress and fed to zombies. She thought she had obtained the address of the supply warehouse, but he had already been watching her affair with her lover on surveillance cameras.

Thinking she had his Noah's Ark, she was thrown into an empty warehouse on the day the virus broke out, and then sold as a bargaining chip by the mob.

When the zombie horde surged in, his former "white moonlight" and "true love" knelt before the fortress gate, begging him to open it.

Evan coldly uttered: "This time, it's your turn to taste despair."

“When you think that life cannot get better, Blake Pierce comes up with another masterpiece of thriller and mystery! This book is full of twists and the end brings a surprising revelation. I strongly recommend this book to the permanent library of any reader that enjoys a very well written thriller.”--Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (re Almost Gone) ALMOST DEAD is book #3 in a new psychological thriller series by USA Today bestselling author Blake Pierce, whose #1 bestseller Once Gone (Book #1) (a free download) has received over 1,000 five star reviews. After the disastrous fallout from her last placement in England, all 23-year-old Cassandra Vale wants is a chance to pick up the pieces. A high-society, divorced mother in sunny Italy seems to be the answer. But is she? With a new family come new children, new rules, and new expectations. Cassandra’s determined to make this one last - until a horrifying discovery pushes her to a breaking point. And when the unimaginable occurs, will it be too late to pull herself back from the brink? Who, she wonders, is she becoming?A riveting mystery replete with complex characters, layers of secrets, dramatic twists and turns and heart-pounding suspense, ALMOST DEAD is book #3 in a psychological suspense series that will have you turning pages late into the night. Book #4 in the series will be available soon.

I am the Millionaire’s Nanny
I can’t resist him
But the Rule is we can only be friends...

-James bexell, who is this? -he answered as he took small steps.

Luna's boyfriend? - he heard through the line.
He stopped quickly.- Yes? Can I help you?
-Yes, Samuel Atkings. May I ask what kind of deal you have with each other that she left town without telling me? - he asked angrily.
-Listen, you idiot, I don't know what your problem is. I know about you and how you've managed to make Luna's life miserable. I don't care who you are, but don't call back, or her.
He cut the call.


Luna Scaloni's life takes an unexpected turn when she becomes involved with a mysterious but notorious millionaire, James Bexell, CEO and single father. As Luna tries to resist him, she can't help but get caught up in the whirlwind of trouble he brings. His past and present will intertwine in a romance full of conflicts from the past that will lead them to unearth the darkest and hidden side of him.

Rosemary Decker, a 27-year-old marketing executive fleeing corporate burnout in Seattle, inherits her great-aunt's mysterious bookshop in Thornwick Hollow just as her life crumbles. But the inheritance comes with a chilling countdown—twenty-eight days until a crimson eclipse that occurs once per generation. Holden Ashworth, a devastatingly compelling stranger with secrets older than the mountain town itself, seems to know intimate details about her family history that she's never heard before. As Rosemary discovers the horrifying truth about an ancient covenant that has claimed six generations of women from her bloodline, she realizes Holden isn't courting her—he's preparing her for a ritual that will grant him immortality while consuming her life essence. But some family legacies are worth fighting for, and in Thornwick Hollow, the hunted might just become the hunter when the crimson eclipse rises and old debts written in blood come due.

Holly Leefe has seen it all. Being a medium keeps life interesting. Not that it needed any help. She already had a psychic for a husband and a clairsentient teenage daughter. Data analyst by day, ghost hunter by night. Unless it was football season. She did live in Texas after all.
This fall Holly and her husband Jesse are trying to help a widower and his fiancé discover why suddenly stilettos are being thrown through their TV. Plus a few other nuisance cases. As if helping the dead and raising a teenager wasn’t enough, the ghost of her grandmother won’t rest until the family home is returned to its 1980’s glory.

I’ve seen the living; I’ve seen the dead. I’ve seen angels and I’ve seen demons. No matter how many malevolent or benevolent beings I interacted with, none could terrify me as much as the spirit that walked through the door into the kitchen where I was cooking dinner. Mentally bracing myself, I stirred in chili powder to the ground beef on the stove before I acknowledged the woman that was now looking over my shoulder.
“That’s too much seasoning. It’s going to be too spicy.” I turned to face the food police. “You need to call your mother.” It was an order, not a request. I raised an eyebrow, inviting her to explain. “She won’t listen to reason.”
“Are you two still feuding?” She had been fighting with my mother for the last two and a half years. I’d inherited the “gift” from my mother who had gotten it from my grandmother and so on and so forth. They didn’t need me to pass messages back and forth. She seemed to have forgotten that I had refused to get involved.

Every night, dragging noises come from the floor above.
The neighbor claims he just can’t sleep, yet he stares at my window and grins in the dead of night.
Later, he dies.
But at two in the morning, I still get a text message from him.
Someone else warns me: Don’t go to the sixth floor.
The police say this building doesn’t even have a sixth floor.
Yet I’ve seen people go up there with my own eyes.
Where exactly does this so-called sixth floor lead?
Who really died?
And who on earth is the one texting me?

The mafia boss chose me as his decoy—a body double for the woman he loves.

Eight years. Three bullets, one car crash, one explosion. The doctor said ten more minutes and I would've died on that operating table when they took my kidney. I gave him a son. He let me play "the boss's wife" in public.

Until he cleared every obstacle for her and decided to marry her.

Her wedding photos replaced mine in the master bedroom. He has her initials tattooed on his arm. When I questioned him, he had his men slap me at a charity gala, forced me to admit "I'm just a stand-in." When I touched her, he took away my custody, declared she was "the true lady of this house."

The punishments got worse. When he threatened to cancel my mother's insurance, I finally learned to shut up.

He pulls me close, whispers in my ear: "She gave up everything for me. Not like you—you were born to take bullets for me."

"Deal with it. She's not replacing you. This is her house now."

Even my son took her side.

"Stop being dramatic! Natalie actually loves us! You're nothing!"

But their pure, innocent Natalie? She unplugged my mother's ventilator while I was locked in the basement. Let his enemies slip poison into my drink during the last job.

When Grayson found me, all he said was: "She's pregnant and emotional. Go rearrange the flowers at the wedding venue."

I wipe the black blood from my lips. Look at him quietly.

"I'm dying."

Due to an arranged marriage between our families, I married Damien Blackwood, heir to a business empire.

During five years of marriage, I tried hard to play the perfect wife, bore him a daughter Lily, thinking I had finally won his love.

Until his first love Serena returned from abroad, I watched him rekindle his passion for another woman, watched them rekindle their old flame.

A car accident changed everything.

I was taken to court, sentenced to three years in prison, becoming a "murderer" despised by everyone.

And he personally sent me to prison.

They played ninety-nine pranks on me to break my brother. For the ninety-ninth, I gave them a corpse.

For three years, I was the secret girlfriend of Damien, heir to the Bloodmoon Pack and my brother’s sworn enemy. For three years, I was his hidden toy, and I sat through ninety-eight cruel “pranks” without ever knowing they were pranks.

When they planned the last one, locking me alone in a condemned tower overnight, I finally woke up.

I faked my death. I let him find the ruins. I let him hear the words that would destroy him: “She was three months pregnant.”

Then I disappeared to London and started over.

When Damien finally found me, he had already destroyed everyone who ever hurt me. He had handed my brother land his family had fought over for three generations. And he was on his knees, begging me to come home.

But the dead don’t come back. And neither does my love.

I was just on the phone with my husband. He was stuck in traffic, apologizing for being late to our anniversary dinner. Forty minutes later, detectives are at my door, claiming he died in a crash three days ago. If Silas is dead, who just sent me a text?

When I was ten, my parents faked a messy divorce and turned my life into a sick reality show.
They split up me and my twin sister, Romy. She got the Alpine mansion and my mother's luxurious lifestyle.
I was dumped in a moldy basement, scrubbing diner plates and clinging to my physics books to survive my father's "gambling addiction." 
For eight years, I starved to pay off his staged debts. Then, on our eighteenth birthday, Romy casually texted me a link to StreamLens, an exclusive voyeur site for bored billionaires, followed by a few stabbing messages:
[Surprise, sis. Mom and Dad never actually split. We're perfectly happy ]
[It's honestly sad watching you skip meals, but you know how it is.]
[You were the "older sister," so they chose you to be the one raised in the dirt.] 
I clicked the link. The site's #1 live feed was a giant split screen titled: "The Twin Experiment: Raised Poor vs. Raised Rich—Which Sister Comes Out on Top?" 
On the left: me, freezing in a leaky cellar. On the right: Gareth and Marissa playfully hugging Romy on a velvet sofa, slicing into a massive birthday cake. The debt, the loan sharks, my absolute misery—it was all just entertainment. 
Through the feed, Romy stared straight into the hidden camera, flashing a sickly-sweet smile. 
“Smile for the cameras, sis. Your suffering bought us this gorgeous house.”

I spent three years as a "useless son-in-law," humiliated in public by my wife, all to repay a debt of life-saving gratitude.
That night, she handed me a cup of poisoned wine, smiling as she told me to "disappear from this world."
But she didn't know that the wine served to terminate our contract of protection—and unchained my shackles completely.
When the fighter jets of the Northern Command cast their shadows over the entire estate, she finally knelt in the mud, crying out for "Adrian."
But this time, I will not look back.

I suddenly awakened the ability to read minds. But I heard my fiancé, Joey Jones, mocking me in his mind: He had already arranged for an assassin to “send me off” at our wedding in the church. What was even more disgusting was that he promised I would become the Donna of the Jones family, but in his heart, he was fixated on his stepmother, Rory—his father’s widow, who was only a few years older than him.
With only three days left until the wedding, I no longer cried or begged for love. Instead, I contacted my first love, Nate, who was a police officer: “How about being the male lead at my wedding?”

For Joey, I shouldered the blame for a commercial crime and survived five years behind bars—alone, even through a miscarriage.

With only five days left on my sentence, his secretary flaunted a “bonus” transfer from him—521,314—and when I left one mild comment, she blocked me.

I got released early on Christmas, wanting to surprise my husband. Instead, I pushed open our bedroom door and found Joey and Betty in our marital bed, deep in their sick little games.

And then I overheard a phone call that shattered everything: my little sister, Sansa, hadn’t died from a surgical “accident” at all. Joey had bribed the surgeon and had her heart cut out—so his mistress could gain a werewolf’s healing ability and keep having some perverted sex on bed.

He lied to me, used me, murdered my sister—and still mocked me for I was nothing without him.

Kerri Coleman thought her worst nightmare was divorcing Liam Tate - Hollywood's hottest actor and the man she loved in secret.
But when she exposed their hidden marriage, the world didn't crown her his wife... it crucified her as his scandal. Betrayed, penniless, and hunted by Liam's furious fans, she had nowhere left to turn.
Until she met him.
Arlo Frantz. Infamous mafia boss. The man who claimed he could give her back everything she lost. Fame. Power. Revenge.
But his price wasn't money.
It was marriage.
Now, Kerri must decide: will she risk falling into another dangerous union just to destroy the man who ruined her... or will she lose herself to the devil who wants to own her heart?

On the night of the charity gallery opening, I caught Lucas and Lila tangled together in the storage closet.
He pulled the girl tight against his chest and sneered, “Stella, you’re eight whole years older than me. You’ve controlled my life for five years—when are you gonna realize you can never hold onto me?”
Lila giggled, snuggling deeper into his arms. “You’re past your prime, ma’am. Why cling to someone who was never yours to begin with?”
Snickers and mocking laughter rippled through the onlookers.
I gave a slow, hollow smile.
For five years, I single-handedly kept Scott Enterprises afloat, mopped up every mess he made, and buried every scandal spawned by his endless string of flings.
Still, he hopped from one girl to the next, weaponizing our age gap to mock and hurt me, over and over again.
Then he shoved me hard. I crumpled to the floor in a pool of my own blood, watching him bolt out with another woman in his arms, not a single glance thrown back my way.
I knew right then the baby was gone.
Everyone whispered how pathetically I’d bent over backward for love.
No one ever learned the truth: I endured everything only because his face mirrored my late fiancé, Elias.

All nobles mocked me for rejecting the talented common mage and picking a brutal gladiator with no magic as my escort. They called him a filthy hound unworthy of serving an Oberlin lady. But only I remember—this scarred man died twice for me in my past life. Reborn before my family’s ruin, I swear bloody vengeance on Cedric and Liliana, who poisoned my father and stripped my skin. I endure searing magic backlash, fight bloody death matches, and burn all traitors alive. The shadow they sneer at will become the indestructible shield of my reign.

I'm a figure skating prodigy from one of the wealthiest families in the country. I'm also an idiot.

I believed that if I was kind enough, people would be kind in return. So I sponsored Haley Dunning, a scholarship skater on our team, and treated her like my own little sister.

The day before the NCAA qualifier, she came up to me with a sports drink, said she wanted to help keep my energy up.

I drank it. Went down on the ice with a broken leg. Drug test came back positive for banned stimulants.

Overnight, I went from the queen of the rink to the face of a scandal no one could stop talking about.

Expelled from school. Torn apart on social media. Calloway Corporation's stock in freefall.

Haley stood in front of the cameras, tears in her eyes: "Piper just wanted to win so badly. I never thought she'd go this far..."

I fell into a depression. Couldn't sleep without medication.

Then one day, she showed up at my hospital room with my boyfriend, bearing "comfort": a cup of water and a few pills: "Piper, take your meds, okay? This is all my fault for being so stupid..."

Three minutes later, I'm coughing up blood, convulsing on the floor.

Right before I died, I caught the look on her face. That sweet, innocent face. A slow, vicious smile spreading across it.

She knocked over the pill bottle and started screaming: "I grabbed the wrong ones! I mixed up her antidepressants with some old person's heart meds! I'm so stupid!"

My boyfriend pulled her into his arms. Didn't even glance at me dying on the floor: "She meant well. Piper just had bad luck."

I was poisoned to death in that hospital room.

Then I opened my eyes, and it was the day before the qualifier.

Three months before I marry billionaire Adrian Vale, I receive a text from an unknown number.

DON’T MARRY MY HUSBAND.

The sender claims to be Celeste Vale—Adrian’s first wife.

There’s only one problem.

Celeste has been dead for four years.

I assume someone is playing a sick joke until the messages reveal secrets no stranger should know. Details about Adrian’s body. His first marriage. The night Celeste died.

Then one message warns me not to eat a box of chocolates arriving at my office.

The chocolates are poisoned.

Suddenly, Adrian’s protection becomes suffocating. Security follows me everywhere. I’m moved into the sprawling estate where Celeste once lived. Doors are locked. Cameras fail. Someone enters my bedroom while I sleep.

And the dead woman keeps texting me.

But the most terrifying discovery isn’t that someone wants me dead.

It’s an old photograph hidden among Celeste’s belongings.

A photograph of me taken eight years before I ever met Adrian.

Adrian recognizes it.

Because our first meeting wasn’t an accident.

Now I don’t know who to trust—the dead woman warning me away from my fiancé, or the dangerously powerful man who admits he searched for me long before I knew his name.

Adrian swears he didn’t kill Celeste.

I want to believe him.

But the deeper I dig into his family’s past, the more women I find who vanished, died, or were silenced after learning secrets they were never meant to know.

And Celeste may have died trying to make sure I wasn’t next.

For three years, I chased the ghost of my missing husband.

When I finally found him, my hysterical tears were met with chilling indifference.

"I'm not the billionaire heir you're looking for," Jaxson said coolly. "Stop stalking me. Mirelle is going to make me sleep on the couch again."

His devotion to another woman shredded my heart. I was ready to walk away forever.

Until I overheard him talking to his brother in the shadows.

"You faked your death on your honeymoon just to be with Mirelle," Kian hissed.

"And now you're faking amnesia to get the Cross Family Fortune back? Haven't you tortured Bryndis enough?"

Jaxson simply downed his drink.

"Mirelle is pregnant," he replied. "I have to bring her into the family officially. This is how I do it."

My despair instantly hardened to ash. The man I had mourned wasn't dead; he was just a monster.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my anxious in-laws, stopping them from rushing over.

Ten years ago, my mate faked his death in the war and ran off with his childhood sweetheart.
No goodbye. No contact since.
All he left me were two things — a debt of six hundred and eighty thousand, and a notice declaring him lost, stamped four years later by people who'd never met him.
The bank took our den. I moved into a shared burrow-flat at the edge of the settlement.
Three jobs after hours. Sold blood. Scrubbed latrines. Tested tonics for the healers until my nose stopped working right.
Ten years to pay off the debt. A desk at the Missing and Fallen Registry Office, once the ceasefire finally came.
My first case file was a man the law had already declared dead.
He said he'd been young and reckless. Walked out. Never looked back.
Now his family's land was due a war reparations payout, and he needed his name restored to collect it.
I stared at the name on the form. Recognized it instantly.
Smiled.
"Insufficient documentation. Application denied."

"I should have known from the day I met my fiancé's father that I would end up sleeping with him. The attraction was so fierce and it was obvious it went both ways."
I thought my life was perfect.
I had Marcus, my sweet and dependable fiancé, a cozy apartment, and a wedding to look forward to. I was the classic good girl—the kind who always followed the rules and made the safe choice.
Until I met Victor
Marcus' father.
Tall, sophisticated, and dangerously charming, Victor was the one man I should never want. But from the moment we shook hands, my body betrayed me.
I told myself it was nothing. A stupid crush. A passing temptation.
So I avoided him.
It didn't work.
One girls' night. One strange-tasting drink. One mistake I can never take back.
Suddenly, I find myself crossing the one line I swore I never would.Now Marcus sleeps beside me every night, completely unaware that his future wife is hiding the most dangerous secret of all.
He has no idea whose face fills my thoughts when he touches me.
Every morning, I tell myself to stop.
But the moment Victor and I are alone, my resolve begins to crumble.
And the worst part?
Victor doesn't seem willing to let me go.
The wedding is getting closer. The lies are piling up. And every stolen moment brings me closer to destroying the life I thought I wanted.
Marcus is the man I'm supposed to marry.
Victor is the one man I'm forbidden to want.
So how long can I keep our affair hidden before Marcus discovers the truth?

For three years, I was Adrian Vale's kept woman.
Pretty, useless, and so thoroughly spoiled that even his sister said I wouldn't survive three days without the Vales. I didn't bother arguing. Before I met Adrian, I'd been chair of the Global Financial Order Council. That job had nearly worked me to death. Now I didn't have to set an alarm or use my brain, and my monthly allowance ran to eight figures. Who in her right mind would give that up?
Then twelve overseas funds joined forces to short Vale Group. Adrian's father was forced out. His two older brothers were taken into custody. And Adrian, who had always been able to fix anything, found himself at a negotiating table with a pen pressed into his hand and a demand to surrender every share he owned.
One of the fund managers across the table looked me over and smiled. "Don't worry, Mr. Vale. Once your family’s bankrupt, we’ll take good care of your little songbird."
I was quiet for a long moment. If the Vales went under, where was I supposed to find another man this generous?
So just as Adrian was about to sign, I took the seat at the head of the table and called a number I hadn't used in ten years.
"Halt trading across the European markets. And tell the heads of these twelve funds to get here within thirty minutes and explain themselves—on their knees."

Ashley Sullivan is forced to marry Edwin King, the ruthless heir rumored to be dying, all to replace her sister. But this mute bride hides a powerful secret—she’s a miracle doctor.
On their wedding night, she realizes Edwin is the same man she saved the night before, the one who stole her first kiss. He plans to humiliate her, but she shocks him by taming his wild tiger and saving his grandmother with a single needle.
When he demands to know who she really is, Ashley meets him with a cold smile and a needle at his throat. “Mr. King, it’s time we settle the score.”

The Wedding Variation plays the music of betrayal, the strange man's violation is like a nightmare, and the black hand of the table pushes her into the deep sea. Three years later, Evelyn Ross is reborn as a goddess of vengeance and joins forces with the mysterious Finn MacLeod to unravel the conspiracy of the past. Who set up this deadly deception? Who is the mastermind hiding in the dark? Each investigation makes the truth more confusing, and her relationship with Finn MacLeod will be full of suspense in this revenge journey to where?

I thought I was dead for sure. Hell, my blood has already run cold.
I snapped my eyes open only to realize the gunshot wasn't meant for me. But now, I'm being used as a human shield.
The first thing I saw was a man in all black holding a gun to my face.
He stands gallantly menacing, less than five yards from me. And despite the low light, I can see his shirt is only buttoned halfway as a jacket drapes loosely over his broad shoulders.
He is like Hades in a shirt.
"Answer me, motherfucker! Or I swear I'll kill her!" Blondie yelled, jabbing his gun at me and pulling me closer to shield himself.
"Who the fuck are you!"
The stranger returned his attention to my captor;
"You seem to have misunderstood this situation," He said with such calm and vindication, you'd think my life didn't matter.
He continued;
"I'm not the hero that saves the damsel in distress..." He paused,
"...I'm the Grim Reaper."

< Gunshot...! ><<
I froze in my spot, but I didn't feel dead.
"You're safe now." He said, walking up to me. He brushed hair from my wet cheeks as he pulled me closer.
And I just fell on him.
Without hesitating, I rise to my toes and capture his lips in mine.





***

Sapphire Sanchez is just a girl looking for momentary happiness when she makes a rather impulsive move.
Life hasn't exactly been fair to her, and her mother's condition isn't making it easier for her. Then everything turns upside down when a stranger saves her from three hoodlums.
Or maybe the right side up?
Either way, she just met Dimitri Griot, the terror of Silicone City, the Grim Reaper himself.
He has built his empire with the same ruthless vindication he delivers his judgment. And fussy romance wasn't on his agenda when a lowlife cunt got his heart beating in the wrong manner.
He wants her just as much as he hates the weakness.
She wants him even though he incites terror in her.
The condition of romance is clear, and the rules for power are final. It's one of nothing: Power, Vengeance, or Love
Neither of them can have it all. But the question is, which will either of them choose?

Warning: This story contains BDSM steamy scenes, mature language, and forbidden romance.
Recommended for readers who enjoy emotionally intense and sexually charged love stories with depth.
…….
My father is a powerful politician.
His enemies killed my mother.
Now they want me.
To keep me alive, he hires the most expensive security company in the city. Three men show up at my door and drag me to a secret beach house.

Dante, Nikolai and Enzo

My bodyguards.
My captors.

I’m a medical student. I’m supposed to study for exams, not stitch up gunshot wounds and listen to bloody stories that make my thighs press together.

I should hate them.I should be begging to go home and not aching for the men that might destroy me.

Instead, I let them pin me to the wall, big bodies caging me in, heat rolling off their skin as rough hands toy with the buttons of my shirt.

One of them leans down and growls in my ear,
“We’ve wanted to do this since the first day we laid eyes on you kitten”

When the prey becomes the hunter…

As a half-elf paranormal recruitment consultant, Julia knows to stay away from vampires–tothem, she’s just food.

So why would bloodthirsty alpha male Nathaniel La Caz be any different.When she turns up to the meeting in his factory, she senses that there is something about him.Julia is suddenly overwhelmed by her senses and her magic goes haywire when she is nearhim.Things go from weird to worst, when Julia witnesses the kidnapping of her cousin Claudia. Andwhen more elves and fairies begin to vanish without a trace, and no help in sight, Julia knowsthat she is her cousin’s only hope.

The police suspect vampires. And if they’re right, this couldbe a one day death trap. But Julia is willing to risk it all to save Claudia, even if it means shecould become this crazed vampire’s next victim.

When my son was hospitalized with a high fever, Henry Harding was with his ex-lover—a final betrayal that shattered what little remained of our marriage.
The pain of my unwed pregnancy is a wound I can never speak of, as the child's father vanished without a trace. Just as I was about to take my own life, Henry swooped in, offering me a home and vowing to treat my fatherless child as his own.
I've always been grateful to him for saving me that day, which is why I've endured the humiliation of this lopsided marriage for so long.
But everything changed when his former flame, Isabella Scott, returned.
Now, I'm ready to sign the divorce papers, but Henry demands ten million dollars as the price of my freedom—a sum I could never hope to scrape together.
I looked him in the eye and said coldly, "Ten million dollars to buy your heart."
Henry, the most powerful heir on Wall Street, is a former heart patient. He'll never suspect that his so-called shameful ex-wife orchestrated the heart beating in his chest.

I just got my billionaire husband to sign our divorce papers. He thinks it’s another business document.
Our marriage was a business transaction. I was his secretary by day, his invisible wife by night. He got a CEO title and a rebellion against his mother; I got the money to save mine.
The only rule? Don’t fall in love.
I broke it. He didn’t.
So I’m cashing out. Thirty days from now, I’m gone.
But now he’s noticing me. Touching me. Claiming me. The same man who flaunts his mistresses is suddenly burning down a nightclub because another man insulted me.
He says he’ll never let me go. But he has no idea I’m already halfway out the door.
How far will a billionaire go to keep a wife he never wanted until she tried to leave?

"I made you cum three times in one night. How did you repay me? You dumped our newborn on my doorstep and fled for four years. Now that I've found you, Diana, there is no escaping me."
DIANA
My wedding happened only hours ago. That was before I caught my husband in bed with his boss, desperate to raise money for our honeymoon.
I was humiliated. Furious. Broke. So I drank. Then I got kidnapped.
I woke up in Las Vegas, in a stranger's house. Cairo Arsher's mansion.
He is rich. Powerful. Too handsome for my sanity. And dangerously tempting.
Before I can call the cops, he takes my hand and kisses it softly, like I belong to him. Then he says the impossible. Four years ago, I was the woman he loved. Four years ago, I left him a newborn and disappeared.
Now he has found me, and he swears he will never let me go again.
But the truth is simple. I have never really met this man before.

What happens when Kyrah Bailey falls in love with the son of a tycoon, Blake Dawson and later finds out that he has strings attached with his neighbor Sabrina Johnson? Will Kyrah be able to dig out Blake's past? Will she forgive Blake or not? Torn between her boyfriend, Blake and her best friend, Scott Stone, her world crumbles down as she tries to fight for her lover forgetting about her friends and family. Will she realize her mistakes and who will she end up falling for?

For three years of marriage, John Smith disappeared every night.

Jane Watson endured three years in a loveless, sexless marriage, stubbornly believing that one day her husband would see her worth.

However, she never expected that what awaited her was John's divorce papers.

Finally, she made a decision: she didn't want a man who didn't love her, so in the dead of night, she left with her unborn child.

Five years later, she made a spectacular transformation into a top orthopedic surgeon, an elite hacker, a gold-medal designer in the construction industry, and even the heiress to a trillion-dollar conglomerate, with her secret identities revealed one after another.

Until someone exposed that she had two four-year-old little troublemakers by her side, who bore a striking resemblance to a certain CEO's twins.

Upon seeing the divorce certificate, her ex-husband could no longer sit still. He cornered her against the wall and pressed her with the question: "My dear ex-wife, don't you think you owe me an explanation?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK ROMANCE BOOK WITH MATURE AND TRIGGERING CONTENT INCLUDING VIOLENCE, NON-CONSENSUAL ELEMENTS, TORTURE, EXPLICIT SEXUAL SCENES, AND PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAUMA. 18+ ONLY!
One night, two women wake up in bodies that aren't theirs.
Elara has suffered two brutal years chained in the Draconian Lord's secret dungeon where she was tortured, violated, and left alive only to break. Fueled by rage over her father's murder, she wakes up to suddenly finds herself in soft silk sheets, in the lush, untouched body of spoiled heiress Anya Vale who is married to Helson, the Lord's dangerous son-in-law.
Now armed with luxury, secrets, and a body untouched by pain, Elara unleashes years of denied desire. She dominates Helson with slow, commanding touches, grinding passion, and raw, addictive pleasure that leaves him begging for more—while she steals codes, drains accounts, and plots to burn his empire from the inside.
But in the dark dungeon below, innocent Anya awakens in Elara's scarred, broken body—facing chains, cruelty, and the same horrifying violations that nearly destroyed a soul.
Swapped by a mysterious force, one woman savors forbidden ecstasy while weaving deadly revenge, the other fights to survive pure hell.
Will vengeance consume them both? Or will twisted desire and hidden strength change everything?
(THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXTREMELY DARK THEMES, BODY SWAP, REVENGE, AND STEAMY SCENES. READER DISCRETION ADVISED!)

Hi, My name is Kat and I feel like I should make something clear. I am no expert on magic and there's no reason why I should be. Us humans only discovered that magic exists a few years ago and really it wasn't the big deal you would expect. it exists, I don't have any magic of my own so it makes no difference to my life.

So when I get asked to play tour guide for a stupidly handsome fae as he attempts to capture some escaped criminals I realise that the fae know about as much about us as we do about them. I find myself helping him navigate weird human things like mobile phones, credit cards and why we wait at red lights when there are no cars approaching.

It's safe to say that I'm a little overwhelmed by it all.

But it will be fine, right? I mean, It's not like I'm the one facing down criminals or, even worse... Crazy fae fangirls. All I have to do is show the hot guy around and do my best not to embarrass myself too much in the process. What could go wrong?

Wish me luck!