2124 Book(s) Related to is coraline based on a true story

I'm Jennifer, a stay-at-home mom. I gave up my art career eight years ago to take care of my family. My husband Julian and my son Garry, they're my whole world.

But lately, I've noticed them getting closer to Mia, Julian's secretary. Little things. Garry asking where "Miss Mia" is. Julian mentioning her at dinner. I told myself it was nothing. I kept quiet. I put up with it.

Until last week, when Garry broke his arm playing hockey. The school called Mia, not me. She was listed as his emergency contact.

That's when I knew I was done.

In my past life, the night before the National Cheerleading Championship finals, my "best friend" Lily, the scholarship student I'd been sponsoring, handed me a brownie she claimed she'd "baked herself."

She knew I had a deadly peanut allergy. Yet she'd loaded it with concentrated peanut butter.

When I collapsed on the locker room floor, hives erupting across my skin, my throat swelling shut until I couldn't make a sound, Lily just covered her mouth and nestled into my boyfriend Liam's arms, whimpering: "I'm so sorry, Chloe. I'm such an idiot. I mixed up the peanut butter with chocolate... you won't blame me, right?"

Of course I blamed you.

The quarterback I'd loved for three years didn't call 911. Instead, he frowned down at me convulsing on the ground.

"Chloe, stop faking, okay?" Liam's voice dripped with annoyance. "Lily already apologized. Why do you have to put on this dramatic show to scare her? You're always so controlling."

Controlling?

My airway was closing. My lungs were on fire. I was dying, and I couldn't force out a single word to tell him.

They didn’t call an ambulance until I stopped moving, but by the time it got there, it was too late. I was already dead.

When the police questioned him, Liam gave false testimony to protect Lily. He claimed I was afraid of losing the competition, so I tried to use an allergic reaction to avoid competing, but accidentally ingested too much of the allergen and died.

The man who said he loved me let me die with the reputation of a coward.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on that day.

So after this weird plague, basically all the alphas disappeared. Only a few packs had alpha bloodlines left, so they formed an alliance. Whoever could produce an alpha pup in the younger generation becomes the next pack leader.

I'm Natalia from Moon Stone pack. My dad's the alpha, I've got alpha blood, but I can't shift. So everyone treats me like garbage. My mom died young, dad remarried this beta luna who had Stella, my half-sister who's just a beta but gets treated better than me.

In my past life, at the mating ceremony, Damon picked me. I thought I'd won. Turns out the bastard was actually an omega using black magic to fake being beta. When we mated, we had an omega pup instead of an alpha heir.

What does this piece of shit do? Blames ME. Says I faked my alpha bloodline. Then he kills me and my baby and dumps our bodies with the rogues.

But I'm back. It's the mating ceremony again, except this time Damon's going after Stella instead of me. Which makes me think, did that asshole get reborn too?

I found my husband's vasectomy certificate while sorting medical bills. The procedure was done a year ago. But I was six months pregnant now.

I stared at the date on the paper and my hand just... stopped. I kept checking it again and again, but it was still the same. I was freaking out. I looked down at my bump showing through this baggy sweater, and my hands started shaking.

I got in my car and drove straight to my husband's private club. I needed answers about this, now.

When wolfsbane burned through my veins, I heard my alpha say: "Save Yvonne first."

He said I was strong enough. I could wait.

So he gave the only antidote to the omega and left me dying.

Three months ago, Mason rescued her from rogues. "She reminds me of you when you were younger," he said.

I chose to believe him. To trust our fated bond, to dismiss the pack's whispers as paranoia. Even when he spent more and more time with her in his office. Even when he started treating her the way he used to treat me, gently organizing her papers, patiently correcting her words.

Now he almost killed me.

When I finally crawl out of bed, it's my turn to fight back.

My husband Dante's best friend Luigi died three months ago, and with his last breath, he made Dante promise to take care of his pregnant widow, Maggie. From that moment, Maggie invaded our lives, and I was only four months pregnant at the time.

Then Maggie got caught in a gang shootout. She needed an emergency blood transfusion, and she had this rare blood type—Rhnull. Turns out, I'm Rhnull too.

To save Maggie and her baby, Dante forced me to abort mine.

I heard my fiancé Henry's laughter echoing down that hotel hallway.

"I only went after Maya to piss off Dennis."

Eight years. I chased Dennis for eight years.

When I finally gave up on him, when Henry spent years pursuing me, when he proposed with fireworks lighting up the entire beach—I thought I'd finally found someone who loved me.

Three weeks until the wedding.

I flew to his city with his favorite chocolate cake, ready to surprise him on his birthday.

Then I heard the truth.

"Those eight years she spent obsessing over Dennis made me sick."

"I'll just skip the wedding. Let her stand there in that white dress in front of everyone."

Fine. I'll let him think he's won.

Then on our wedding day, I'll be the one who disappears.

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

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

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

I was furious.

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

My fiancé and I got engaged, then he joined an academic project in another state that required him to stay for a year.

I agreed to wait for him to come back and get married, with plans to see each other once a month.

But for the entire year, he found excuses every month to avoid seeing me.

Even when my mother was critically ill, I called him crying, but the phone always went to cold voicemail.

That day I drove three hours to find him and waited outside his apartment for a long time.

He still never replied.

So I stopped waiting for him and married a man who treated me well.

Who knew that when he found out I got married, he regretted it.

I married my boss. In secret.

Six years ago, in a courthouse, with zero witnesses and zero fanfare, because apparently that's just how you do things when your husband is the Ice King of Ashford Group and terrified of anyone finding out he has feelings.

Six years and one kid later — a five-year-old who inherited every ounce of his father's charm, meaning none — and here's where we're at: the day my sexual harassment case finally went to trial, my husband and my son got on a plane.

To Switzerland.

To go skiing with Blair. Cassian's ex. The one he dated for seven years before me.

She needed "cheering up," apparently.

They didn't even bother coming back until a week after the trial wrapped. Cassian walked in rubbing his temples like he was the one who'd had a rough week, and gave me this:

"She wasn't doing great."

Atlas — my son, five going on forty — trailed in right behind him, already doing his tiny impression of his father's Congratulations, You've Been Dismissed voice.

"Next time we'll come. Promise."

"We got you a present, though. So you can stop being mad now, okay?"

Okay.

I said okay. And I meant it, I genuinely didn't have it in me to fight about it. No tears, no yelling, none of the usual meltdown. I just took the little box of chocolate and let it go.

Which, weirdly, seemed to freak them out more than the meltdown ever did.

The biggest mistake of my life was falling in love with my childhood best friend, Cole Blackwood.

I grew up with Cole. He was my childhood best friend. When my mom died in a car accident in high school, his mother Lillian, my mom's best friend, saw that my stepmother didn't like me and took me in. She arranged our engagement. Cole protected me from bullies in high school. I fell for him. We secretly married at eighteen.

Shortly after the wedding, he was kidnapped. That's when everything fell apart. I threw myself off a cliff to draw the kidnappers away and save him. I was in a coma for three months. But when I came back to him, weak and broken, he thought some woman named Sophia Vanderbilt had saved him instead. He started hating me for "abandoning him" and grew cold. I tried to explain. He only believed what Sophia told him. My words meant nothing. 

Cole wanted to divorce me, but his parents refused to allow it. I refused too. Sophia drugged him to get pregnant and trap him into marriage, but he stumbled into the wrong room. He slept with me instead. I got pregnant. She faked videos to make him think they'd been together. She forged evidence that I'd cheated. He wouldn't listen to a word I said. 

Then we were both kidnapped and held hostage on a rooftop. Cole chose to save Sophia. I fell. I lost the baby. After Sophia was rescued, she went to the hospital for a checkup. They found leukemia. She needed a bone marrow transplant. I was the only match, but after everything, my body was too weak. Cole used the "debt" I owed his family to force me to donate. 

I refused. Sophia "died." Cole locked me in a psychiatric hospital and tortured me until I died. 

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he demanded my bone marrow. This time, looking at his desperate eyes, I said yes and decided to divorce him and leave him for good.

I died the night I refused to postpone the engagement party.

The morning after my death, my parents were still having breakfast with my sister Blair, excitedly planning her award ceremony.

Before I died, the only person who answered my desperate call was my mother. I was being chased by kidnappers at the time, and I begged her to save me, telling her I was dying. But she said, "Stop being so dramatic! You're just trying to get our attention. If you want to die so badly, then go ahead and die."

That was my last call for help before the line went dead, and then I was struck by a car.

I lay on that dark road, bleeding profusely. They thought I was just sulking, hiding away to get attention. They thought if they ignored me, I would come back and apologize to them.

They didn't know I was already dead.

My ribs are the hottest thing in town—there’s always a line out the door—but they’ve got no idea the secret that makes them so damn good is…

Four months pregnant, I went to the bar to bring Connor his wallet, only to overhear a conversation that made my blood run cold.

"She's so controlling. Billy and I can barely breathe," my husband told his friends. "I'm taking Kelsey to the countryside for three months of therapy. I'll just tell Nadia it's a parent-child program abroad."

The worst part? My ten-year-old son Billy would cover for him.

Then I had a miscarriage. In my darkest moment, Connor said he'd use experimental hypnotherapy to help me "forget the pain" so I wouldn't suffer or cling to them while they vacationed for three months.

I agreed.

But when he got everything he wanted, he regretted it.

I heard that recording and couldn't believe it. My husband had been having an affair for a whole year, and my six-year-old Jerry had been covering for him this whole time.

Later, at Jerry's birthday party, I overheard his friends: "That's Jerry's nanny. His real mom works overseas."

My son told everyone I was just the nanny.

That day, standing in the hotel hallway, Jerry looked at me and said: "Can you promise to never come find me again? So Michelle can officially be my mom?"

My blood ran cold.

I was stitching up a shrapnel wound in South Sudan when a lawyer called to tell me my grandfather William Caldwell had died, leaving me 120 billion dollars - I didn't even know he existed. Now I'm back in New York to claim my inheritance and cancel an engagement to businessman Oliver Jennings that my grandfather had arranged. His secretary Theodore brought me straight from the airport to try on jewelry for tonight's dinner party, where he plans to reveal my identity and announce my inheritance.

Just as I was trying on the necklace, a woman arrogantly yanked it from my neck and mocked me as a nobody. I don't like to abuse my power, but she's an exception.

My husband, Julian, tells me he's flying to Italy for a month, business trip.
I check the calendar and freeze. His birthday falls right in the middle of that month. Alone, in a country where he knows no one outside of work.
I tell Margaux, my mother-in-law. She doesn't hesitate.
"Then we go," she says. "We surprise him."
My brother Dante is the only family I have left. For years I've told the Whitfields he just runs some business in Italy. They don't know the rest, and they never will if I can help it.
The second we land, I call him, give him the hotel name.
"Got it," he says, distracted. "I've got things to handle first. I'll come see you after."
Margaux and I check out the hotel restaurant before Julian even knows we've landed. Dinner, and a look at how the family's investment is running.
Food's good. Service is fine. Then the bill comes.
I glance down at the bill.
Dinner for two: 180,000.
Market-price seafood surcharge: 45,000.
Imported wine corking fee: 20,000.
Private dining ambiance fee: 60,000.
A dozen more line items after that, none of them making any sense.
Numbers that don't make sense. Charges I don't recognize. Margaux and I trade a look.
"Get us the manager," I say. "Now."
A woman walks over, chin already tilted up.
"I am the manager," she says. "If you can't pay, what's the point of complaining?"
I almost laugh. What kind of place is my own family running here?
"I'll take this up with the owner myself," I say.
She smiles, slow and pleased. "My husband happens to own this restaurant."
My stomach drops.
This restaurant belongs to the Whitfields. Belongs to Julian.
Since when did my husband become someone else's?

I can see a loyalty score over everyone's head.

When it falls below sixty percent, that person leaves.

The day my father cheated, his score fell from sixty-nine to twenty-three.

The day my sister ran away from home, hers fell to seven.

So when I grew up and started dating, I always left in time.

Then I met Beckett Hale.

His score for me was always one hundred percent. I believed I had finally found something real.

Then, on our daughter's third birthday, he didn't come.

When he walked in that night, the number over his head had dropped from one hundred to eighty-seven.

I understood that it was time to start planning to leave again.

My husband and I couldn’t get pregnant after we got married, and we really wanted a baby of our own,

We tried IVF, and after three failed rounds I finally got pregnant,

But then my husband and my parents suddenly started pressuring me to get an abortion...

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

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

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

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

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

I was eighteen, working double shifts at a restaurant, when four men walked in and stared at me like they'd seen a ghost.

They said I looked exactly like someone they'd lost. Vivian Bailey. Missing three years. The love of their lives.

That night, they kidnapped me. I tried to escape, but every attempt failed.

For six months, they dressed me in her clothes, made me sit in her chair at dinner, called me by her name, closed their eyes when they kissed me. I was a breathing doll, a replacement they could touch but never truly see.

But as time passed, something shifted. Martin noticed I took my coffee differently than she did. Lawrence brought me mystery novels instead of her romance books. Dennis stopped flinching at my laugh. Philip actually smiled at my sarcasm.

They started saying my name. Eliana. Not hers.

I found myself falling for the illusion of tenderness. I almost convinced myself this twisted captivity could become something real.

Until they got Vivian's call for help.

When the hospital called, I thought I was going to lose him.

The moment I burst into his room, Nathan was alive, but the way he looked at me, like I was a complete stranger.

"I'm sorry, you are...?"

My husband had forgotten everything. Three years of marriage, from the moment we met to falling in love, all erased.

But what's even more absurd? He stared at his bother Nolan and said, "Did I just... fall in love at first sight with a stranger?"

Listening to him frantically ask Nolan in the hospital room "Is this normal?", a crazy idea suddenly hit me—

Three years ago, Nathan "acquired" me in just three months. From his secretary to his wife, so fast it felt like closing a business deal. I loved him, but something was always missing... like a real courtship, real romance.

Now, he has amnesia.

What if I told him we were just in a contract marriage? That our contract was ending soon and we were about to separate?

I thought escaping to Vegas would help me forget my cheating ex. Instead, I had the hottest one-night stand of my life with a mysterious stranger in a hotel bar, then panicked and ran before sunrise.

Two days later, I'm sitting across from my "arranged" blind date, and my stomach drops. It's him. Same intense eyes. Same devastating smile.

Now my dad expects us to get serious. His dad's breathing down his neck too. So we make a crazy deal: fake an engagement to get our families off our backs, then figure out if this thing between us is real.

I thought I was the happiest woman in the world... until I clicked on that video.

The moment the screen lit up, my entire world came crashing down.

The woman on the bed was Calista - that girl who grew up with us since we were kids. And that hand caressing her skin was wearing the wedding ring I had personally put on Matteo's finger.

"I've missed you so much..."
"You drive me crazy, baby..."

Those sweet words I knew so well completely destroyed me.

Everyone said we were the perfect couple, but who knew this marriage was built on nothing but lies?

Since he's so good at acting, I guess it's time I gave him a show of my own. I'm going to make sure everyone sees what this "perfect husband" really is...

I died in a goddamn plane crash hunting down my husband who ran off with his "true love."

That lovesick moron completely screwed me over!

My sister Sofia and I are twins, born into a mafia family, but I'm the only one who actually inherited the ruthless gene. My sister? Total sweetheart and naive as hell.

The Romano family handpicked me for their heir Alessandro. They figured my cunning could rebuild their crumbling empire. What a joke. My marriage was a complete nightmare. My husband Alessandro despised everything about me, my ambition, my scheming, my brain. He wouldn't even touch me. Eventually, he ditched me for his "true love" and ran off with her. And his family had the audacity to force me to go drag his ass back home!

Meanwhile, Dante De Luca, heir to the most powerful family around - married my sister. I'm betting his stepmother deliberately chose Sofia to sabotage him, trap him with some weak, innocent little wife. So Sofia got screwed over too. Dante shipped her off to some remote estate the day after their wedding and just... abandoned her there. When Dante got murdered, they killed her too.

As that plane was going down, I was furious at how unfair it all was. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back seven days before my engagement party.

Perfect. God's giving me a second shot, and this time, I'm the one who's gonna marry Dante De Luca.

When my parents and my fiancé Gilbert asked me once again to donate my kidney to my cousin Yvonne, who was hospitalized with kidney failure, I didn't cry or scream.

I simply said one word: "Okay."

My parents and Gilbert were stunned. They rushed to have me sign the voluntary donation form, afraid I’d change my mind.

Some days later, they sent me to the operating room.

Dad said, "Yvonne will finally be saved. We're so proud of you."

Mom said, "After the surgery, we'll make it up to you."

Gilbert looked tenderly at Yvonne and said, "When you're better, where should we travel?"

What they didn't know was that the day I agreed, I'd just received my diagnosis, stage four cancer. Three months to live.

As I lay on the cold operating table, as the anesthesia began to take effect, I only wanted to know one thing:

If I die on this operating table, will they regret it?

Five yeas ago, we were hosting a family dinner when I walked into the study and found my father with his mistress.

He looked at me, voice flat and cold: "Alice Russo, you don't tell your mother about this. Trust me, you can't handle the fallout."

I didn't listen. Ran straight to my mother in tears and told her everything.

That night, Mother had her people remove the woman from the property.

The next morning, the woman's daughter Anya ran my mother down with her car at the docks.

That's when I realized, I was completely alone. Because my dad is taking his bastard daughter's side.

I called Victor Castro, my husband, 99 times. He never answered once.

I had a breakdown at the family tribunal. They physically removed me and had me committed to a psychiatric facility in Sicily, the worst kind of place you can imagine.

Five years later, Victor finally spoke to me.

The transport stopped outside the facility that day. Sunlight hit my eyes.

Two guards helped me to the car. My father stood there with a line of his men behind him.

In the crowd, I recognized Peter Thompson, one of my mother's most loyal people.

He gave me the smallest nod. Something flickered in his eyes.

I kept my expression neutral and got in the car.

The door closed. Victor sat across from me.

He lit a cigar and said it without any preamble:

"The day Anya ran your mother down at the docks? I paid for her legal team. I provided the witnesses. I signed the autopsy report myself."

In my past life, just one day before the national evaluation camp that would make or break his career, my hockey-prodigy best friend faked an illness. He was ready to throw away his entire future just to go party in Chicago with a cheerleader.

Thinking I was doing him a favor, I stepped in. I tipped off his coach, saved his career.

Years later, he became a multimillion-dollar superstar. His way of thanking me? Framing me with doctored charity records and sending me to federal prison. He even smiled as he delivered the final, crushing blow:

"I planned that crash on the icy road, Kassia. Your parents' lives were just the price you had to pay for sticking your nose where it didn't belong."

Now, my eyes snap open to the deafening cheers of our high school hockey arena.

Sitting right next to me, that same cheerleader is eagerly plotting how to corner him after the game.

Pain wasn't just a feeling, it was a rusted, serrated blade dragging inch by excruciating inch from my gut to my sternum.

I forced my eyes open against the harsh, unforgiving fluorescents of the ICU. Gauze. So much gauze, heavy and soaked with my own blood.

"Recipient's heart is stable. No signs of rejection."

The nurse’s hushed voice bled through the crack in the door.

"But bed one... the delay was too long. Her uterus was necrotic. We had to remove it."

I bit down on my cracked lip until I tasted copper.

So this was it.

The grand finale my beloved family had orchestrated for me.

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.

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.

I'm the only daughter of a mafia leader. I married Marco, an outsider, against my father's wishes.

Six months ago, my father died in a car accident. Marco took over part of the family business. One day when I was feeling down, I passed through the slums and saved a girl named Gianna who was being beaten for stealing food. I took her in as my assistant and treated her like a sister.

But when I was six months pregnant, I walked into the company break room and found Gianna in lingerie, seducing Marco.

I ordered my guards to send her back to the slums immediately.

Marco tried to plead for her. I cut him off coldly: "I don't want to see her again."

He went silent for a moment but didn't oppose my decision.

Over the next three months, Marco seemed warm and caring on the surface but grew increasingly distant. I thought he was just busy with work and decided to help him after the baby was born.

My due date is this week.

Last night, Marco lulled me to sleep like always, his voice so gentle.

But now when I wake up, I find myself lying in the middle of a deserted forest.

And my husband, holding Gianna whom I had sent away, looked at me arrogantly and said, "Since you love sending people away so much, I suppose it shouldn't be a problem for me to send you here to give birth, should it?"

No one would believe that Lorenzo Moretti's wife—the mafia Don's wife—

had to kneel in his study and beg him to approve three hundred thousand dollars to save her brother's life.

All because he thought a woman from Brooklyn's slums needed constant reminding of her place.

Just last night, kidnappers sent photos of my brother's severed finger, and I got on my knees begging him to sign that goddamn form.

His trusted advisor Sofia stamped "REJECTED" in red ink, sneering: "Insufficient proof."

Lorenzo didn't know I endured this humiliation because I once loved him.

Now Sofia told me my brother was dead, dumped in the Hudson River.

I don't need to be his caged canary anymore.

My husband, Arthur, forced me to take private training sessions with his buddy Marcus, saying my body wasn’t good enough for him to really enjoy himself in bed. But on the very first day, Marcus started getting handsy with me.

“Coach, stop. I’m here to work out, not have an affair,” I bit back a moan, trying to push away the “help” he was giving me with my squats.

What I didn’t expect was for him to start rubbing his thing against my pussy.

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

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

“Do I really deserve this?”
Dr. Xavier Brown asked the void after the woman he loved smiled and shoved him off a rooftop.

He died a brilliant, betrayed genius… only to wake up as the worthless secondary character in a trashy web novel.

The pathetic live-in son-in-law.
The disposable husband.
The man scripted to be humiliated, divorced, and killed so the protagonists could shine.

Died once.
Refused to die again.

Armed with every humiliating page of his own doom, Xavier signs the divorce papers with a smirk, takes the money, and kicks the first death flag into the dirt.

But the story doesn’t let go so easily.

When he saves the mother of Isabella Voss, the novel’s ice-cold villainess, using medicine this world has never seen, she doesn’t destroy him.
She builds him a kingdom: a hospital with top-notch facilities, an empire of shadows, and a love that feels dangerously real.

Then the truth rips the script apart.

He isn’t Alexander Rodriguez.
He is Alexander Winchester, erased heir to a hidden mafia family, legendary assassin king, memory wiped and chained as a live-in dog by the very people who now call themselves heroes.

Six deadly sisters descend to reclaim him.
A ruthless CEO. A ghost hacker, an assassin trainer, a pharmaceutical prodigy, a public opinion goddess, and the youngest who sees what’s coming before it breathes.

With a system that evolves from cold machine to snarky partner in crime, Xavier walks two paths at once:

The Healer who rewrites life, and the Ruler who burns false fates to ash.

But Karma never dies, Damien and Sophie met with their consequences

Every betrayal returns.
Every death flag screams.

“Do I really deserve this?”

Xavier smiles, scalpel in one hand, shadow in the other.

This time the answer is yes.

They gave me to a Mafia family because their real daughter was too precious to sacrifice.

My husband was supposed to be a crippled, impotent psychopath nobody wanted.

But on my wedding night, I found out that the man in the wheelchair could walk. And he wasn't crazy.

He was dangerous.

And worse, he already knew me.

Years ago, I saved the life of a wounded stranger and never saw him again.

I never imagined that the stranger would become my husband, or that the most feared Mafia heir in New York would make me the one thing his enemies could use against him.

My family thought they had sent me to my death.

They didn't realize they had handed me to the Mafia King.

I am a hero. The saint's husband.
A country boy chosen by the temple.
I fight, I fight, I fight.
All for the saint, for the temple.
But it wasn't until I was drained of blood and dying on the altar that I finally heard clearly what the saint and her childhood sweetheart were saying:
"If you become a hero and marry the saint, you'll have to surrender your soul to the temple. I don't want you to lose your soul."
"Then let's just find some country boy to be the hero. It won't matter if he dies."
Oh, so that's how it is.
You should have said so earlier.
I can defeat the Demon Lord just fine without the saint.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the wedding ceremony.
This time, someone else should be on the altar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At the family dinner, a Wall Street rising star flaunted his power in front of me, boasting that he was the chief agent of the "Godfather of the Underworld."
My ex-wife's family fawned over me like dogs, pointing their fingers at me and taunting, "You spineless, gigolo trash, you're not even worthy to carry Mr. Victor's shoes!"
Victor, even more smug, turned on speakerphone, trying to use my privileges to curry favor with my wife.
I stood silently in the corner, coldly pressing a blood-red command: [Permanently Delete Account].
The next second, the system's cold pronouncement came through his phone: "Warning, you have overstepped your authority and have been banned across the entire network!"
The room fell silent instantly.
They had no idea that I was the true Godfather, the one who controlled a multi-billion dollar empire and ruled the Western underworld!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In a world overrun by zombies, survivors built a fortress—and my fiancée and I joined its action unit.
To help her secure her position, I turned down leadership’s offer to run my own squad and stayed by her side as the “invisible” second-in-command.

For a full year, I made the tactics, wrote the contingencies, and cleaned up every mission.
She took my plans as her own credit—and let the team treat me like dead weight.

Then, on one operation, she ignored my orders and changed the plan on the fly. Disaster followed.
In the debrief, she blamed everything on me in front of everyone.

I resigned on the spot.

Not long after, I took command of a new squad—and delivered the cleanest record in the entire base.
Her unit couldn’t even finish routine recovery runs.

Until a mandated joint op put our teams at the same rally point—
and she finally realized the “legendary captain” was me.

For two whole years, my boyfriend faked being broke just to play me. I slept less than four hours a night, working three grueling jobs to pay off his "debts." I foolishly thought that as long as I worked hard enough, our lives would eventually get better.

That was until the night I was out delivering food and stumbled upon his lavish pool party. I caught him holding another woman in his arms, recklessly squandering my hard-earned money. The woman was my college classmate—someone who always bragged about being a wealthy heiress.

He was never in debt. His elaborate lie was just to avenge her for a petty college grudge. He wanted to break me and watch me suffer like a dog. Furious, I crashed the party, only for him to call the cops and have me thrown into a holding cell on the spot.

That very night, the hospital called—my grandmother was dying. Kneeling on the cold floor of the police station, I tearfully begged him on the phone to bail me out so I could see her one last time.

He didn't believe me. He just laughed, told me to stay in there and "learn my lesson," and hung up the phone.

I never got to say goodbye to my grandmother.

Just when I was pushed to the absolute edge of despair, I received an unexpected revelation about my true identity: my biological parents were actually massively successful entrepreneurs, and they had left me an unimaginable fortune.

And the woman clinging to his side? Her glamorous "heiress" status was a complete and utter lie.

In my past life, I squandered all my wealth to support my fiancée's family, but when the extreme heat of the apocalypse arrived, she and her lover broke my legs, brutally drained my marrow, and devoured me alive.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the seven days before the apocalypse.

This time, I will never repeat the same mistake.

I decisively kicked away these cold-blooded parasites, canceled all my credit cards, and, with the true love who died to save me in my past life, built an indestructible, top-tier temperature-controlled fortress.

As global temperatures soared, Los Angeles became a scorching inferno, and the fiancée's family couldn't even get a sip of dirty water, ultimately being forced to resort to cannibalism and killing each other.

And I, sitting in a 22-degree air-conditioned room eating chilled watermelon, coldly watch this bloody live broadcast of dogs fighting each other.

The fires of hell have been lit, and your judgment has only just begun.

Sapphire Black, the future Alpha Luna of the 2nd most powerful pack in the region, has never worried about meeting her mate. After all, she has beauty, intelligence, and power; she has made a name for herself and every pack knows it. But, what's she to do when she meets her mate by chance with another woman in his arms?

“Alpha do you feel that?” Asks Ron
“Yea” I growl threateningly, “surround and close in on them now!” I instantly shift and head towards the invader.
5 minutes later we reach the clearing, the invader was a wolf. A beautiful mud reddish brown wolf. It’s big but I can tell it’s a female. Standing my ground I growl indicating I want her to stand down. Instead she growls defiantly and takes a defensive stance. I was about to attack when Ron links me, “Alpha wait! She has a pup with her!”