250 Book(s) Related to megami-ryou no ryoubo-kun. manga

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 brought her first love back to my cloud penthouse for an affair, and even attempted to steal the corporation's core code. Caught red-handed, she showed no remorse, instead scolding me condescendingly: "He is my guest! How dare you touch him?!"

Without even raising an eyelid, I snapped my fingers. Heavy combat robots instantly ripped apart the first love's cybernetic spine, and a beam of energy burned the man into a cripple. I then threw down a disownment agreement, cutting off her elite privileges with one click, and tossed the two of them like garbage into the lower-class slums drenched in acid rain.

"Trash belongs in the trash can." I swirled my wine glass, sneering.

My name is Arthur, a bottom-tier financial drone relying on liver cirrhosis to survive on Wall Street. My greatest dream is to land a normal labor contract that includes weekends off and social security, but this is destined to be impossible.
Because my dad is a Primordial Vampire, my mom is an Alpha Werewolf, and my older brother is an Urban Legend Wraith.
When my tycoon boss, trying to save on severance pay, deployed over a hundred heavily-armed mercenaries to physically eliminate me, I had no choice but to blow the bone whistle my old man gave me...

My name is Dafu, I am a dog, and I can smell death.

Sweet, cloying spores and a metallic, fishy stench seeped in through the cracks in the door.
The owner's friend was crying and calling for help outside the door , but all I could hear from my nostrils was the gurgling of mucus and the rustling of fungal hyphae climbing—
The person outside had no heartbeat.

The owner ultimately decided to open the door and rescue the person .
no!

I bit his hand tightly , my eyes pleading desperately—
Master, trust me !
That thing outside the door! It's not a person at all!

I was cruising leisurely down a desert highway when three Harley motorcycles pulled up behind me, claiming one of their crew was injured.

I pulled over to help — and they stole my truck.

I called the police — and the cops arrested me as an accomplice.

“I am Ivan, a meteorologist. In my past life, I was tied up in the snow and froze to death by my wife’s family. After being reborn, I personally bought up all the inferior supplies they needed. When a blizzard of minus fifty degrees Celsius came down, and when the gangsters kicked down his door, I was sitting in a safe house two kilometers away, holding a whiskey, watching the surveillance footage—this is my revenge.”

My wife and my best friend had been sleeping together behind my back for a long time. Once the apocalypse hit, they completely dropped the act. While I was still stressing over how we would survive, they threw me straight into a zombie horde—just to buy themselves a few seconds to escape.
Given a second chance at life, I chose to report the impending zombie outbreak to the government, securing my place as a top-tier protected asset for the nation.
But what I didn't expect was... my wife and best friend were reborn too.

There was a project at our company that promised a £50,000 bonus upon completion.
As the lead planner, I had worked my fingers to the bone for over half a year, pushing the project to 99% completion. Yet, just a week ago, right at the final hurdle, Charlotte—the daughter of the company’s largest shareholder—got jealous.

Eager to steal the ultimate credit, she forcibly parachuted into the project department, hijacked my position as the lead planner, and insisted on presenting the pitch to the client’s top executives herself.

Amateurs dictating to professionals—the outcome was entirely predictable.
Her arrogant, clueless micro-management completely infuriated the client’s Big Boss. They flipped out on the spot, threatening to terminate the contract and seek damages.

After causing this catastrophic disaster, the "princess"—who normally paraded around calling everyone her "bros"—played dead at the speed of light.
She ignored calls, left emails unread, and threw the entirely collapsed, hopeless mess right into my face.

For the sake of my team's blood, sweat, and tears, and even more so to prevent my boyfriend Bastian’s company from getting sued, I paid £24,000 out of my own pocket. I stayed up for three consecutive nights, scrambling to find a backup crew, booking restaurants to humbly appease the client, and ultimately breathed life back into the chaotic mess she left behind.

I thought that when I brought the receipts in for reimbursement, I would at least get a guilty "thank you." Instead, she flipped through the stack of invoices, let out a cold sneer, and smacked them right back into my face.

"Bella, after making such a massive compliance mess, you actually have the nerve to ask me for a reimbursement?"

I endured in silence for five years, and everyone treated me like worthless trash. My wife sacrificed our daughter for vanity, my in-laws called me bottom-tier scum, and a senator wanted me dead to divide up my fortune. They thought I was just an ant they could trample at will. Until I produced the Supreme Commander's immunity medallion, until armed helicopters hovered above the courthouse, until I forcibly hijacked the national broadcast, they finally realized what kind of existence they had provoked. I am "Night Asura"—the one man in this world who should never be crossed.

When I woke up from the car accident, the calendar had jumped to five years later.
who suddenly appeared out of nowhere , was flirting with her lover on the sofa right in front of me, and then threw her credit card in my face: "Useless thing, from today onwards, go earn your own money."
I glanced at my watch and signed the divorce agreement, agreeing to leave with nothing.
Half an hour later, the director of Patek Philippe arrived at my door carrying a royal rare watch and bowed respectfully: "Young Master Stirling, the family welcomes you back."
She froze. I put on my watch and walked out the door without looking back.
Later she realized that when I left with nothing, it wasn't because I had nothing at all, but because I didn't care about what she had.

I woke up in the body of Aldric Vane — a fraud who had bluffed his way to the title of Grand Archmage of Calderis. Three years of fake prophecies, trinket spells, and staged miracles had made him a legend. But when the kingdom's north tower began to ring on its own, and a faceless figure appeared at its peak, his lies were about to catch up with him.
The real Archmage — me — had just arrived.
And I had no intention of playing his game.

My best friend spent seven years warning me that my boyfriend would betray me. On the night he proposed, I found her anonymous post: “Tonight he proposed to my best friend. Then he slept with me.” By morning, they still thought I knew nothing. By the next night, I was gone.

In my previous life, I was the wasteland's strongest berserker. After three years of fighting, I had more glory and battlefield honors than anyone else, and I was set to marry the daughter of the Alliance Commander. But on our wedding day, my so-called best friend drove a blade straight through my heart.
After I was reborn, he made his move first. He stole the Berserker Crystal for himself and left me with what everyone saw as a worthless Farmer Crystal.
My team humiliated me in public. The Alliance hunted me down. Everyone believed I was finished.
What he didn't know was this—
The Berserker path does nothing but burn through your lifespan until you become a mindless beast.
But the Farmer path can command every plant across the entire wasteland.
So while his hair turned white, his skin rotted away, and the woman he loved came to see him as nothing more than a living biohazard, I was deep beneath the Federation's underground base, growing the first green sprout the apocalypse had ever seen.
He didn't steal my destiny. What he stole was a one-way ticket to hell.

For fifty years, I bathed in blood for my world, only to return home to find my wife dead and my daughter about to be sacrificed.
The High Priest stepped on my daughter’s head, branding me a traitor, and declared he would burn her to ashes. Scarred, broken, and with my magic depleted, I was bound to the pyre alongside her. Tens of thousands cursed us from below as the flames engulfed the stage.
Weeping, my daughter asked me, "Daddy, are you really a hero?"
I crushed the pendant on my chest.
Dragons, Dwarves, Berserkers—the million-strong allied army I had united over those fifty years descended across dimensions.
The High Priest slumped to the ground, trembling uncontrollably. "Who... who exactly are you?"
Staring into his eyes, I said only one thing:
"Dragons have reverse scales; touch them, and you die. You crossed the line!"

In my last life, my younger brother made a contract with an S-rank ghost, but it turned out to be completely useless, while I contracted a B-rank ghost, the Starving Ghost, which could not only devour monsters but also consume other awakened humans' ghost servants to evolve.
Under my protection, my family went from scavenging for scraps to living in a luxury mansion inside the government safe zone.
But on the eve of a ghost tide attack, I was prepared to stay behind and defend the base while sending my parents, my sister, and my younger brother away first.
Instead, they killed me, all to take my Starving Ghost so they could have an easier time surviving on the road.
After I died, they didn't even have time to tame the Starving Ghost before it devoured every one of them.
When I opened my eyes again, I had somehow returned to the day we formed our ghost contracts, and this time, my younger brother chose the Starving Ghost.

Arthur used a glitch in the particle collider's data to make a temporal jump.
He was going back to the past to win back his first love.
I secretly went back with him.
And then I watched with my own eyes as the man I'd personally trained into the perfect lover held his first love's hand and confessed with all his heart:
"I didn't know how to love before. Now I've finally learned."

48-hour countdown to an arctic apocalypse. I asked my wife for $50,000 to buy a system shelter to save our lives, but she told her family I wanted the money to support a mistress. I scraped together $50,000 from various sources and was about to activate the shelter when my wife called, triumphantly telling me she'd already transferred all my assets and was hiding in a luxury villa with her lover.

She didn't know that when the extreme cold arrived, the villa's floor-to-ceiling windows would shatter instantly, and the fireplace wood would last no more than three days.

The only place that could truly sustain life was my shelter.

Now, she's kneeling outside the shelter door...

Stella’s car knocked me off my bicycle and sent me sprawling on the ground.
When Ethan hurried over, his first love let out a long breath of relief. “Darling, you’re here. His assistant can work out the compensation with you.”
The man took off his made-to-measure suit jacket and wrapped it around her, but his gaze had landed on my injured leg, and stayed there.
“You two know each other?” she asked, suspicious.
Ethan pulled his eyes away, took her hand, and turned to leave. “No.”
I sat on the curb in silence, cleaning up my wound. Not a flicker of emotion inside me.
After all, when he handed me that prenuptial agreement three years ago, the very first clause had been absolute secrecy about the marriage.
You can’t get an Uber in Boston during morning rush hour.
Dragging my hurt leg, I limped off toward the hospital.
Two months left. My three-year contract with Ethan would be up.
And it would be time for me to go.

The night before the West Coast League Championship, Logan's childhood sweetheart Maddie tried to dump a packet of cold medicine into his water bottle.

I snatched it away and warned her it contained a banned substance. He was a pro player heading into the draft. One positive test, and it's a lifetime ban.

She just smiled, sweet as sugar, and said I was only jealous of what she and Logan had.

She wouldn't listen, so I smashed the bottle on the floor. When Logan found out, he slapped me across the face in front of the entire team.

After the game, his fever wouldn't break. Maddie went live immediately, siccing her followers on me and releasing edited clips of my "torture-camp" training sessions. Overnight, I became the most hated agent in the country.

No one believed a word I said. In the end, one of Logan's rabid fans put a knife in me in a narrow alley.

When I opened my eyes again, I was standing at the supply table.

And Maddie's fingers were pinching that same damned packet.

I was frozen for 100 years due to illness.
One hundred years later, the whole world was ravaged by strange phenomena, and humanity was huddled together in a few small places to survive.
I was awakened from my slumber by the investigation team. I thought I would be killed by the monster as soon as I woke up, but I found that the monster here was my good brother from college.
Besides him, the eerie owner of the barbecue restaurant, the matchmaking ghost who likes to harm people through blind dates, the S-class monstrous ghost in the cemetery... they are all my old friends...
The world a hundred years from now feels strangely familiar...

Ten years of knowing each other, today was our engagement.

I was the Holy Maiden of the Silverglow Clan; Kane was the young lord of the Lunar Eclipse Clan.

The union of the two clans to resist the blood-clan beast tide together had been my wish since childhood.

But on the wedding day, in the sacred hall, my palm faced his, only the final blood pact remaining, when a woman holding a blood-stained swaddling bundle rushed into the hall and said it was his child.

Kane rushed down. He cut his fingertip and tested the blood; the royal mark lit up between the wolf cub’s brows.

He smiled—a gentle smile he had never once given me in three years.

The elder said, first take her as a concubine; the queen’s position would still be mine.

And I walked down from the altar and slapped him across the face.

“Break off the engagement.”

Remove the crown, sever the contract, withdraw three thousand wolf riders, take back the moon-steel weapons and the beacon array.

Kane said I was throwing a tantrum.

He did not know that from the moment I took off the crown, I had already calculated how to make him pay!

I am Murphy, a noble black cat.
My human servant used to be the Chief Paladin of the Holy Church, and every meal he served me was top-tier salmon.
Now, his spine is shattered. He’s paralyzed in bed, charged with the crime of "colluding with the demons."
The Saintess, Elena, strutted in on her high heels to force him into signing a confession, cursing him as a "dead cripple who can't even manage his own piss and shit." His former deputy wants to step over his body to seize power, and has even ordered him to be burned alive.
Well, just so I can secure my future meal tickets, yours truly will just have to step in and clear his name, meow~

For his mother's life, he willingly became a live-in son-in-law for three years, enduring countless humiliations from his wife and male lover. Only when they themselves unplugged the life support pod did he retrieve the dusty cell phone from the pool of blood. The "Zero" access to the Silicon Valley dark web had been unlocked; this time, he would make the entire Crawford empire pay with its life.

In our third year of surviving the wasteland, my companions and I finally realized it was all a reality show.

The elites and billionaires on the outside had built a massive dome, tossing us into this irradiated hellhole to be tortured. They broadcasted it globally, watching us drink toxic wastewater and eat mutated meat, treating us like monkeys in a zoo.

The mole in our team knelt in the mud, sobbing, begging me to understand that it was all a script—that as long as I played along, I could live.

Without a second thought, I swung my blade. Right in front of ten million VIP viewers, I chopped off his leg.

"Crappy script," I sneered, kicking aside the severed limbs and blood on the floor. Gripping my machete, I walked toward the real world beyond the heavy gates.

To those who used our lives for entertainment: I'm coming for yours.

After my parents passed away, I regarded the Carter family as my last blood relatives and Jessica as the light for the rest of my life. Until that day, Dafu, who was sitting next to me on the sofa, suddenly looked up and his voice hit me directly in the head.
It said that Jessica holding Brad's arm was a ploy to force me to sell my house. It said that my parents' insurance money had long been "borrowed" away by Carter time and time again. It said that in thirty days, extreme cold would arrive, with temperatures dropping to minus eighty degrees Celsius, turning the world into hell.
Memories of my past life were also poured in by Dafu—they broke my legs and threw me outside, where I froze into an ice sculpture in a blizzard.
Dafu rushed to save me, but Brad pinned him to the snow, skinned him, made a fire, and ate him.
I silently pulled out the Glock 19 my father had left me and chambered a round.
Click.
In this life, I won't listen to people anymore; I'll listen to dogs.

At the quarterly all-hands, during the raffle, my boyfriend won the company's two-person trip to Santorini.
The whole room was hooting, asking who he'd take.
I stood in the crowd, heart hammering.
The night before, in bed, I'd told him I was so tired, that I wanted to see the sea. He said once this busy stretch was over, he'd take me.
The old employee handbook said anyone dating someone from their own department had to report it to HR, and one of them had to transfer out. Neither of us wanted to leave, so we never went public.
So I said nothing. I just looked at him, waiting for him to speak.
He glanced in my direction.
Then he looked at someone else.
"Sophie. She really came through on that last project — I promised her a trip and never made good on it."
The hooting exploded.
Sophie got pushed into the middle by colleagues, blushing and laughing.
I stood where I was, mind a total blank.
All the way until after it broke up, when he chased me into the fire stairwell to explain.
"Listen to me. Her father is our biggest client. I'm right in the middle of my promotion review. I can't afford to offend her."
I turned and looked at him.
"Then go be with her. You two are a better fit."

Sienna Hart said her heart was failing because she expected me to be the punch line. I called 911. By the time the paramedics arrived, no one was laughing—and my boyfriend was looking at me as if I had ruined something precious.

I was rushing to perform an emergency surgery when a woman and her mother charged at me, slapping me to the ground. They accused me of being a corrupt, crooked doctor who prescribed fake drugs for kickbacks.
I begged for mercy, pleading that I needed to go perform surgery on my mother, but they beat me black and blue.
"A quack like you deserves to perform surgery?"
When my husband finally arrived, I thought he would stand up for me. To my absolute horror, he was already having an affair with that woman. He called me an embarrassment and sneered, "If your mother dies, it’s exactly what she deserves!"
I froze.
But, darling... the person dying on the operating table right now is your mother.

The day I achieved telepathic breakthrough, I heard my fiancée's inner voice telling me to "get lost."
In the restaurant, she abandoned me as I coughed up blood to embrace another man.
I signed the death contract for the meat grinder frontline, determined to die, but when bone spikes pierced through my chest, my telepathy revealed the truth—she pushed me away not because she didn't love me, but because she had been bitten by a zombie three years ago.

Manhattan City Hall, ten minutes before the marriage certificate is issued.
I looked at the prenuptial agreement, what flashed through my mind was not a sweet future, but the tragic ending of my past life—prison bars, fabricated evidence, and my wife Selena's cold face in court.
me to hell without hesitation .
Having been reborn, this time I will not be anyone's stepping stone again.
The real game only began the moment the agreement was torn up.

At two in the morning, I went out in the pouring rain to bring Victor the condoms he'd asked for.
He leaned against the doorframe of his penthouse and took the paper bag, letting his callused thumb brush across my knuckles. Then, with a soft laugh, he informed me that I had a blind date next Wednesday.
"Serena's coming back to New York. She can't find out you've been sleeping with me for five years."
"From now on, we're nothing to each other."

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

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

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

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

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

My name is Leo Carson, I am eighteen years old, and I am dying.
Three years ago, my uncle Thomas stole the 500,000 Aurora Coins and the Awakening Potion that my parents left me with a fake psychiatric evaluation report, and threw me into the Rust Zone to die.
For the past three years, I have worked as a child laborer in a chemical plant, working sixteen hours a day and being treated like a dog.
Until Hela, the goddess of death, appeared and gave me the Book of Judgment . As long as I write down the other person's name and manner of death, they will die.
Now, those who have wronged me, it's time for you to pay your debts.

For ten years, I've been the biggest joke in Eden Fortress—a madman who draws a broken bow eight thousand times a day.
Duke, the plutocrat's heir, even uses me as cannon fodder bait.
But when the Crystalline Tyrant tears through the earth, when S-rank "savior" Duke pisses himself in terror before the monster, at that moment when the entire fortress waits in despair for death—I draw back that broken bow that's been mocked for ten years.

My eyes can see through the essence of all things, my empty bow can shoot down any existence.
From the beast's maw, one arrow obliterates the plutocrat's heir! From within the monster's belly, one arrow defeats the Mountain Tyrant! Above the fortress, one arrow disables all weaponry!

From bottom-tier waste and cannon fodder to the uncrowned king who brings an entire fortress to its knees—I use absolute strength to tell this world: True power never needs anyone's validation!

"She endured hardships with you back then just for your current net worth of a billion dollars. You must use the absolute 50/50 treatment to cure the 'poverty disease' in her bones."

After my husband's childhood friend Chloe returned from abroad, she brainwashed my husband, Ethan.

From then on, he demanded we split everything 50/50. Whether it was eating, sleeping, or doing household chores, even though I was pregnant, I had to pay half the cost.

Until one day I was hit by a car. Blood from a threatened miscarriage dripped all over the emergency room. The nurse held the bill, urging urgently: "Twenty thousand deposit to save the baby! Any slower and you'll miscarry!"

Ethan took out a black card, his voice ice-cold: "According to our 50/50 rule, I'm only paying my ten thousand."

I didn't cry or make a fuss. I simply took the ten thousand he gave me and got an abortion.

Silver poisoning struck, and my mother's life hung by a thread.
I knelt and begged my partner Selene to use the 100,000 gold coins from our war spoils to purchase Moonlight Holy Water, but she coldly refused with a sneer: "An ordinary silver poison patient isn't worth wasting resources on." She then turned and spent 80,000 coins on a necklace for her male lover.
My mother died in my arms as I ground my teeth and swallowed my tears of blood.
But when the patrol came to collect the body, she finally discovered—the one sent to be buried deep in the mass grave wasn't my mother at all, but her own biological mother.
She had personally buried her own mom!

In my previous life, I ran a barbecue restaurant to support my family for ten years, but my parents secretly sold the restaurant to a gang because of my younger brother's vanity in wanting him to study abroad.
An hour later, the apocalypse began, and my little shop became a god-level safe house—
Those with superpowers who enter the store have their abilities automatically copied to the store owner; the store is absolutely safe; the store owner decides who enters and who leaves.
My family ruined my amazing little shop, and they scolded me, saying, "Who told you to be unable to keep the shop?"
I was heartbroken and torn to pieces in the mouth of a zombie.
In this life, I was reborn back to an hour before the shop was taken away.
I must protect my shop!
As for those so-called family members—let them fend for themselves in the apocalypse!

Today was my wedding day.
In just one hour, I would be walking down the aisle in my wedding dress toward my future husband.

"Marry me. Come now.
Sender: Landon"

My childhood sweetheart had suddenly sent me a message. Just one sentence and a location pinned on a map.

I didn't even have time to change. I rushed to the location still wearing my wedding dress.
But when I arrived, what greeted me wasn't a wedding venue, but the unbridled, mocking laughter of Landon and his buddies.

"And here I thought she had some self-respect! She actually rented a wedding dress just to throw herself at Landon?"
"Hilarious. Landon’s been playing her this whole time, and she still has zero backbone. How pathetic!"
"All Landon has to do is whistle, and she comes running, wagging her tail like a dog!"

Because our souls were a one hundred percent match, I married the Supreme Commander of the Werewolf Empire.
After the wedding, he was ice-cold to me.
To make my life a little easier, I got creative in bed. Every single night.
Then today, right in the middle of my best performance yet, straddling Ryan, I got a red alert from the Genetics Bureau:
MATCHING SYSTEM ERROR.
RYAN IS NOT YOUR DESTINED MATE.
The man beneath me had no idea. He just frowned, impatient. "Are you doing this or not?"
I rolled off him and out of bed. "Not. You can go now."

The chieftainess returned from the poisonous fog with a swollen belly.
She announced that she carried the child of a god—a child who would bring hope to the entire base.
Only I knew that what she bore was no divine offspring, but a demon that would devour every soul in the base.
Because in my previous life, I was the one it had gnawed to death, alive...

Five months after Arthur died in the line of duty, my stepmother-in-law, Martha, dragged me into a private clinic in Seattle and tried to force me to end my pregnancy.
The consent form had barely come off the printer when a tiny, milk-sweet voice exploded inside my head—
Mommy, run! Daddy isn't dead! They've got him locked up in a veterans' rehab center outside the city, and they're brainwashing him!
Last time, you believed that wicked grandma. I never got born, and when Daddy found out the truth, he lost his mind!
I tore the form in half right there and stormed off to the rehab center, belly first.
I had just reached the door of the assessment room when I heard a woman's voice inside—the counselor—holding Arthur's hand and murmuring, "Captain, let go of the past. We can start over."
I lifted my foot and kicked that solid-wood door as hard as I could.

In the wasteland, I earned enough military merit to be awarded two territories by the Alliance: an industrial city and an iron mine in the frozen tundra. In my previous life, my wife's younger brother threw a fit until he got the industrial city, while my wife forced me to take the frozen tundra iron mine instead. While their whole family lived easy in the industrial city, squeezing the workers dry, I was down in the frozen tunnels, struggling to dig ore day after day. Then the acid rain apocalypse came. The industrial city was corroded and brought crashing down by the acid rain, and my wife's family ended up covered in burns and open wounds. Meanwhile, I was doing just fine inside the frozen mine shafts. Out of kindness, I sent people to bring them to my side. I never expected my wife's entire family to turn on me and kill me together. Before I died, I detonated every last stick of dynamite in the mine and dragged them all to hell with me.
But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the Alliance office where the territories were being assigned. And this time, the first thing I heard was my wife saying, "Shut up! Give the industrial city to your brother-in-law!"

"Want to get married? Get over here. Now."
On Christmas Eve, Lucas texted me the address of a dive bar.
By the time I showed up in a wedding gown, gasping for breath, he and his gang were howling with laughter.
In front of everyone, he dropped to one knee in front of Mia, let his boys humiliate me to their heart's content, and even threatened to have me thrown into a police cell.
Until my real husband appeared and pulled me into his arms, staking his claim without a word.
Lucas's eyes went red in an instant.

When I was six, my father and his mistress drove my mother to jump to her death. Suicide is a sin, and the Church said her soul could not enter Heaven. So I set out to save her the only way I could: with my Rh-null "golden blood," I worked ninety-nine miracles of life.

Then came the hundredth call. The hospital needed me to save my father's illegitimate son.

Monday morning, I carried a whole box of Honeycrisp apples from a New Jersey farm into the meeting room.
By the time the meeting ended, everyone on the team had taken two, and between bites they told me how sweet they were.
Only Chloe, the intern, had forgotten to disconnect the projector.
Her Slack was still up on the big screen, and a channel called "Corporate Cattle Club" was going off nonstop.
Everyone on my team was in it.
Except me.
[Farm apples? Team Two got pour-over and fresh-baked croissants today.]
[How much commission did she take home last month? This cheap, and she thinks fruit is enough?]
[Everybody remember the year-end anonymous review — give her the lowest score. Best case they pull her and get us a new lead.]
I sat there for a second, blank.
Then I remembered last Christmas, when I used my own bonus to buy every single person on the team the newest iPhone.
I still had their thank-you messages saved on my phone.
That afternoon, I didn't lose my temper. I just quietly withdrew the pay-raise request for the whole team that I'd submitted that morning.
They wanted a different lead.
Fine. I'd give them one.

King Lorenzo spent fifteen years dreaming of one thing.

Revenge.

After watching his family slaughtered, his country stolen, and his people enslaved, he escaped with one promise burning in his heart: one day, he would make the monster who destroyed his life pay for every drop of blood that had been spilled.

And he did. Lorenzo murdered the devil and reclaimed the throne.

Only one person remained.

Princess Daisy.

The spoiled, untouchable daughter of the man who ruined everything.

Now stripped of her crown and held captive inside the very palace that once belonged to Lorenzo’s family, Daisy becomes the living reminder of a past he can’t forget. Every scar on his body carries her father’s name. Every nightmare ends with the same vow:
She will pay.

But revenge isn’t as simple as he imagined.

The more Lorenzo tries to break the princess, the more he begins to see the frightened woman hiding beneath the crown she never asked to wear. And Daisy soon realizes the ruthless king holding her captive isn’t the monster she was raised to believe he was.

In a kingdom built on blood, hatred is easy.
Falling for the enemy is the real danger.

He wants revenge. She wants freedom. Neither of them is prepared for what happens when hate turns into obsession.

Lynn is a kraken shifter in every way: detailed, tenacious, resilient, and hard-working. Also possessive, vain, arrogant, and demanding. It makes him an excellent agent for the Federal Bureau of Paranormal Security and Investigation—and impossible to work with, as the long list of partners who have transferred away from him will attest.

His newest partner is a unicorn, possibly the worst type of paranormal for work that often turns ugly and violent. Everyone knows unicorns are too delicate for such things. Then Anderson proves to be a unicorn like no other, the kind of partner Lynn has always wanted—the kind of partner he wishes was more. But if there's one thing he's learned, it's that the only thing harder to keep than a partner is a lover.

Sex scenes/explicit content, 18+

Bisexual, transgender, FBI, Possessive, Shifter, Lighthearted, supernatural earth, colleagues to lovers, tentacles

Wriggle & Sparkle is created by Megan Derr, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

At the family banquet, a power-hungry male special assistant projected a dimly lit bed photo onto the massive screen. He claimed he had slept with my wife—the heiress to the family—and demanded I walk away from the marriage with nothing.
While all the relatives were waiting for me to become the laughingstock, my eyes landed on a red rose burn scar in the corner of the photo. I couldn't help but laugh out loud.
He hadn't even turned on the bedside lamp. He had no idea that the woman he had just slept with was actually the wife of a psychopathic serial killer.

I was supposed to be Caleb Ward’s Luna. Then Blair, the sister my parents chose over me, sent rogues to destroy my life. Elliot pulled me from the river and swore he loved me. For two years, I believed him—until I learned I was pregnant and overheard the truth: Blair hired them, Elliot paid to hide it, and my parents knew. Now Blair lives in my home, carrying Caleb’s heir, while Elliot keeps her shrine locked away. They think I’m still the quiet sister who obeys. They’re wrong. I’m recording everything, signing their lies away, and waiting to disappear.