3111 Book(s) Related to gotta go my own way lyrics

I died on the fourth night after Thanksgiving.
A blizzard had swallowed the entire town, and I was locked in an unheated attic.
My broken leg had turned black with infection. Every breath felt like swallowing broken glass. I tore four fingernails from their beds, but I still couldn’t claw my way through the door.
With the last of my strength, I held my old iPad against the frost-covered window.
On the screen, my twin sister, Lily, stood beneath the Alps, rosy-cheeked and healthy, raising a crystal glass. Our parents stood on either side of her.
My life was beating inside her chest.
The caption read: [Just the three of us. Finally, some peace.]
A single tear slipped into my hair.
I closed my eyes.
I had traded my life for hers.
Now it was time for them to learn how much that life had cost.

"Is lying the only skill you have left? Don't play dead until you actually land in a coffin!"
That was what my billionaire brother roared as he crumpled my stage-four cancer diagnosis and threw it at my face.
To him, I was a spoiled brat who needed a brutal reality check.
He engineered a fake DNA test, gave my identity to a manipulative orphan girl, and watched me get dragged to a disciplinary camp.
Now, he offers me an arrogant ultimatum: Stay quiet and wait half a month, and he’ll graciously allow me to come home.
I clutched my agonizing stomach and laughed until I cried.
Wait half a month?
I can't even guarantee I'll wake up tomorrow.
But I can't wait to see his face when he finally decides to forgive me, only to realize I've already been dead......

My sister and I both married the wrong men in our past lives. I was bound to an overbearing Lycan Duke, who saw me as nothing more than a vessel for his heir. I ultimately lost my life in childbirth. My sister wed a frivolous Fae Prince, hounded and tormented by his countless mistresses until she was driven to take her own life.
Reborn before our weddings, we bravely choose to swap our marriage contracts, determined to break free from our cruel fates. This time, we rewrite our stories and grasp the our happy lives .

I think I'm dead.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing in an abandoned amusement park, and my body was sitting on that slowly turning carousel.

I was only ten years old. I don't know how I died.

Detective Sarah, the blonde officer, promised to find the truth. So I followed her, watching her peel away layer after layer of lies—

In my diary, I wrote down all my fears and all my waiting.

On the phone, Mom sent that video of me laughing.

In the autopsy report, evidence of long-term abuse filled every page.

Mom had been saving money for three years, saying she'd take me away. That afternoon she picked me up from school and said, "We're really leaving this time."

Then what happened? Why did I die at the amusement park? Why was Mom's first reaction after my death not to call the police, but to—

I thought Mom came to save me.

Until I saw the text message she sent...

I catch my husband in bed with the live-in housekeeper.

He shoves her behind him. "She's only twenty. Barely out on her own, doesn't know any better. Can't you be the bigger person here?"

His mother points a finger in my face. "You're an orphan. If we hadn't taken you in, you'd still be out on the street begging."

"Be smart about this. Make room for Kaylee, so we can all live under one roof in peace."

They've both forgotten that back then he couldn't even make rent, and I worked three jobs to build his company for him.

Forgotten the year his company was going under, when I ran to three different banks across the city in a downpour chasing investors, passed out in the street, and lost the baby.

Four whole years of them looking down on me after that.

I say I want a divorce.

Preston just laughs at me. "You're a housewife. Walk out that door and you'll starve on the sidewalk by tomorrow."

I drag my suitcase onto the overnight bus and go home to a place I haven't set foot in for ten years.

It's the middle of the night when I get there. The streets are empty. Three men reeking of liquor block my way.

That hand is about to touch my face when a Harley roars up and stops right beside me.

The muscled guy on it has a cigarette in his mouth. He looks me over. "Need a hand?"

I’m Wren, hidden sole heir of Ravenwood Pack, living as a regular lone wolf at wolf academy. My roommate Brielle steals my exclusive pine pheromone, copies my relics, steals my elite quota and tricks my betrothed Alpha Kane with a fake royal identity. I challenge her to present the unforgeable Lunar Pearl at the ball. When my father, the pack Alpha, exposes her family’s theft, I reject the misled Kane and reclaim everything the imposter stole from me.

For three years, I paid so my sister could rebuild her life — her rent, her lawyers, her hospital bills, the shop she now runs in my name. Lucas, my fiance, always told me it was the right thing to do. I believed him, because believing him was easier than admitting how tired I was. I flew home two days early to surprise him. Instead, I opened my own front door and found my sister in his lap, wearing my robe, laughing in a voice I'd paid to keep happy for years. Ninety-nine empty perfume bottles stood along the wall — quiet witnesses to nights I never knew existed. Lucas didn't apologize. He asked me to be more understanding. My sister cried and called me cruel. I stood in the apartment I bought, surrounded by the people I built a home for, and realized I had never once been the one who got to be loved first.

With five days left before I was to leave the Black-Fig Pack and marry into the Pear Pack, I packed away everything Kael Thorne had ever left behind.
For five years, I had cherished his lost cufflinks, dried wildflowers he casually picked, and even a used handkerchief.
Now, they meant nothing to me.
I remembered every rejection and every scar he gave me, but I had completely lost the feeling of loving him. It was as if the Moon Goddess herself had severed the bond in my soul.
Kael thought I was just playing hard to get. He didn't know I had already chosen a new life—and that I would never return.

"Mom, I don't need a baby brother or sister. I already have a sister."
I happily pulled out a pair of baby shoes, only for my seven-year-old son to violently snatch them and slam them into the trash can.
It was in that exact moment I discovered that the Alpha leader I had deeply loved for eight years had built a lavish underground mansion long ago—housing his mistress and secret daughter!
And my "obedient" son had been joining his father there every single month, playing happy family with them!
When the shock caused me to hemorrhage, leaving me lying alone on a freezing operating table undergoing a miscarriage, my husband was off comforting his mistress and illegitimate daughter.
In that instant, my love shattered completely. I relinquished custody of my son, left a signed divorce agreement, and walked away without looking back.

My husband, Roman, has a bad heart. Five years ago they cut his chest open, and after that I quit my job and stayed home to keep him alive.
That day I got to his office ten minutes early with his lunch.
Through the glass door I watched Brielle Nash, his assistant, pick up his pill box. Twenty-eight compartments. I fill it every Sunday night.
She flipped open Wednesday evening, tipped the pills into her palm, and dropped them in the trash.
"That's the one that makes you feel eighty."
Roman laughed. He didn't stop her.
Then she handed him the can she'd been drinking from, and he took a sip out of her hand.
"That's living," she said. "Don't tell the boss lady, though. She'd have me fired."
He reached over and ruffled her hair. "I'll lock it in my drawer."
My lunchbox was sitting by his elbow. He hadn't opened it.
Later I found the flask in that drawer. Supplement bottles. A keycard for a boxing gym.
And a key I hadn't seen in five years.
I didn't do anything.
I went home and opened the safe and went through fifteen years of marriage one thing at a time.
Then I started working out what would be mine when he died.

After three years of agonizing IVF, I was forced into three abortions. The reason? My mafia in-laws’ pet bird stared at my belly and shrieked, "End it."
Even when I was carrying healthy twins, my own parents held me down and forced abortion pills down my throat. My husband—the man I once took a bullet for—watched coldly. "Listen to the bird. Abort."
Lying in a pool of blood, I finally discovered the horrific truth. There was no "sacred bird." My marriage, my ruined womb, and all the IVF tortures were actually part of a terrifying conspiracy.
On my fourth pregnancy, the bird finally decreed, "Keep it!"
As the whole family treated me like a queen and rejoiced to welcome their precious heir, I quietly walked into the operating room.
Armed with lethal evidence, I crashed their grand succession ceremony.
You want an heir? I’ll send you all to hell instead.

I died on the night of my eighteenth graduation party, pushed off a rooftop by the two people I trusted most.

In my past life, I was the ultimate fool.

When my two childhood friends—both heirs to top elite families—decided to throw away their futures, I panicked.

They actually wanted to reject their admission offers from Harvard and Yale.

All to follow Lily, a charity case from the slums, to a literal no-name trade school called Sunny Valley Vocational Academy.

I begged them to stop.

I even used my family's connections to try and get Lily into a legitimate university.

But Lily wept in front of them, claiming my money insulted her dignity, and that I was just jealous of their "pure love."

Liam and Noah completely lost their minds.

That night, they cornered me on the roof.

"Vivian, you killed Lily. Go to hell!"

As it turned out, Lily went to that trash school alone and committed suicide.

They blamed me entirely for her death, nursing that grudge until they finally pushed me into the abyss.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day we were supposed to lock in our college choices.

This time, count me out.

When my husband's eight-year-old "nephew" Noah was diagnosed with acute leukemia, the whole family begged for my help.

They needed my six-year-old daughter, Molly—the only perfect match.

Against my instincts as a head nurse, I agreed.

But the second Molly's stem cells were harvested, their gratitude vanished.

To avoid paying for my daughter’s mandatory sterile recovery room, Noah's mother live-streamed a crying fit in my lobby, accusing me of medical extortion. My husband, Grant, stood by in utter silence.

Without the isolation bed, my baby girl contracted a severe infection and died. My mother-in-law simply sneered outside the ICU, "Dead is dead. Better than wasting more money."

Three months later, Noah relapses.

Now, my phone is blowing up. The same people who watched my daughter suffocate in her own fluids are desperately begging me to use my hospital registry access to save him again.

Standing by Molly’s tiny headstone, I look down at the confidential DNA report I pulled from the hospital database.

They think I don’t know Noah is actually Grant's illegitimate son. They think I'll just hang up and cry.

Instead, I swipe to answer the call. It's time to make them pay.

To protect my older sister's piano championship, my own brother crushed all ten of my fingers.
To win my sister's favor, my fiancé hired someone to kick the baby out of me.
After surviving a fire that nearly killed me, I finally woke up.
And when I returned, I blasted the hard proof of their affair and their schemes all over the internet. As I watched them lose their minds, lose everything, and drop to their knees begging for mercy, I let out a cold laugh, turned around, and claimed the top of the world!

I had the gift of beast-speech, and beasts never lied to me.
When my sister, Valora, brought me a wild berry tart, a forest finch shrieked, "Poison!" In my past life, I believed it. I flipped the tray, cursed her, and was thrown into the dungeon like a madwoman. In this life, I did the opposite. I ate it. I vomited blood, and my spirit wolf died instantly.
When it was time to marry, a raven warned me that my Alpha fiancé was a "disfigured madman." In my past life, I broke the engagement and married a Beta, only to be tortured to death by him and his mistress. In this life, I insisted on marrying the Alpha. But on my wedding night, a blood-soaked, disfigured monster was waiting for me.
When my mother-in-law, Liora, coughed up blood in front of everyone, a nightingale cried, "Give her White Dittany for the poison!" In my past life, I force-fed her the herb, and she bled from her eyes and died. In this life, I stopped anyone from giving her the herb. But that night, she died anyway.
Listen to them, and I die. Ignore them, and I still die.
Then, I opened my eyes. I had been reborn, back to the exact moment everything went wrong...

For three years I played the perfect fiancée to the most dangerous Alpha in the city.
I walked on tiptoe because he hated noise. I taught myself to cook meat the way wolves like it. I messaged him every night he didn't come home, and most nights he didn't.
I did it because the Sacred Spring said I was his fated mate, and a human with no magic doesn't survive here without one.
Then the Temple sent me a notice. The old reading was an error. Our true match rating is zero. The bond is void as of today, and they wish me all the best.
Honestly? I was relieved. I dumped his dinner in the trash, dragged my suitcase out from under the bed, and wrote him an IOU for three years of rent.
Then Kael came home early.
He looked at the empty plate. He looked at the suitcase. And the coldest Alpha in the city stepped into the doorway so I couldn't get past him.
"Who told you our match rating was zero?"
"And who told you that you were free to walk out on me?"

In my last life, my mother-in-law locked me in the attic, and my wife openly cheated on me with the neighbor. Even when I was dying of terminal cancer, they bled me dry until my very last breath! Now that I've been reborn, the extreme-heat apocalypse is just around the corner. In this life, I'm living for myself. I spend every last cent of my savings stockpiling three years' worth of supplies and building a heat-proof survival villa! Now I can sit back and watch my mother-in-law's family struggle to survive in the deadly heat. Beg on their knees for my forgiveness? No! I will never forgive them!

All I wanted was a quiet place to live. I drained my savings and paid eighty thousand extra for the one unit on the row with a private backyard.
On my very first day, I found my neighbor's son beating my new hydrangeas with a stick while his mother stood there filming him and laughing.
Bianca says the yard belongs to everybody. Her husband is vice president of the HOA board, so around here, whatever he says is the law.
I showed them my deed. I called the police. I sent a certified letter. Every single time the answer came back the same. This is a civil matter, ma'am. Maybe try being a better neighbor.
Then her son put a rock through my living room window, and the HOA fined me two hundred and fifty dollars for putting a lock on my own gate.
Fine. They want that gate open? It stays open.
I just made one phone call. A truck is already on its way.

On my birthday, I was dragged up to the attic and assaulted by several men.
I called my parents, brother, and boyfriend for help, but they all thought I was seeking attention and ruining my sister Sophie's celebration.
"Mia, stop it. We're busy preparing for Sophie's party. If you want attention, find another way."
This was the hundredth time they'd let me down.
But there won't be a hundred and first.
Because I'm already dead.

Two years ago, my best friend Maddie knelt in front of me, crying as she borrowed $50,000.
The very next day, she vanished off the face of the earth. No explanation, no apology, not even a single text message.
I was left carrying her toxic debt. I lost my fiancé, and I lost my ability to trust anyone.
Until one late night, a call came in from an unknown number originating in an abandoned mining district in West Virginia.
On the other end of the line, Maddie said she was getting married. She had the money ready—every last cent.
The wedding venue was a ruined church deep in the mountains, abandoned for a decade. The time: Friday, midnight.

A hormonal condition pushed my weight to two hundred pounds, and for three years, this boarding school made sure I never forgot it.

The ringleader was the guy every girl worshipped.

And beside him stood his girlfriend, the one who always stepped in at my worst moments with a soft voice and a sympathetic look, like she was doing me a favor.

Everyone called her an angel. Only I knew the truth: every time she "helped," things got worse.

One day, she handed me a candy in front of everyone. "Here. Something sweet always helps."

I didn't feel like I had a choice.

That night, a demon showed up at the foot of my bed.

"Congratulations. You ate the pact candy. I'll grant you three wishes — money, beauty, lifespan. You name it, I'll make it happen."

My whole body shook. Three years of humiliation, and finally there was a way out. Wealth, beauty, revenge. All I had to do was ask.

Then the demon's expression shifted, eyes full of cruel amusement.

"There's a catch, though. The real pact-holder is someone else. Whatever you wish for, the one who gave you that candy gets double."

The words I was about to say died in my throat.

Then, slowly, I smiled.

Double?

That's way more interesting than three wishes.

The day before spring break, Cole Bennett asks me, red in the face, if he can borrow my empty place up in the hills for one night.

I figure he's planning a birthday party for me, so I don't think twice about handing over the code to the estate.

I've already decided that night is when I'll tell him who I really am.

Eight o'clock on my birthday, I push open the brass doors of the estate, worth millions by themselves.

Music blasts through the great room. The place is packed with people from school, all of them craning their necks, gushing about how gorgeous the house is.

I hold back a grin, ready to go find him and see what he's got planned.

Then I see her in the middle of the crowd, everyone crowding around her, glasses raised.

Sloane Bishop.

Five years in hell, my beloved and best friend joined hands to push me into the abyss. The savior I trusted was actually a deadly fraud. Reborn from despair, Vito came through the light. I tore apart the scumbag and the evil woman, settled all debts, broke free from the shadow, stepped into the light, and lived the rest of my life only for myself.

My husband's mistress sent me a video to rub it in, claiming she had just beaten my "pathetic, begging mother" bloody and kicked her down the stairs.
I froze, glancing up at my actual mother sitting right across from me, quietly sipping her coffee.
Bewildered, I zoomed in on the video.
When I made out the scar on the wrist of the woman lying in the pool of blood, a cold sweat broke out over my body. I frantically called my husband.
But he interrupted my plea with extreme impatience: "Shut up! Roxy was right to teach her a lesson. She was just taking out the trash for me!"
Since he insisted on indulging his precious mistress's death wish...
I wonder if he'll still be able to say she was right to teach her a lesson when he sees his own grandmother's corpse.

My dad made me a smoothie every morning for six months. I thought it was love.
It was a muscle relaxant.
He'd been slipping just enough into my drink to make my fingers tremble at full draw — just enough to cost me first place at every major competition. Not enough to kill me. Just enough to let Laurel beat me.
Laurel. His mistress's daughter. The girl he bought custom diamond jewelry while giving me clearance-rack gear for my birthday. The girl he wanted to drop into my family, my home, and my spot on the podium.
I found the proof. Stopped drinking his smoothies. Clawed my way back to number one.
Then, two days before the National Youth Archery Trials — the one competition that decides everything — he picked up a steel rod and swung it at my right arm.
My drawing arm.
The bone cracked. Doctors said three months minimum. My coach couldn't look me in the eye. Every scout, every scholarship, every dream I'd bled for over three years — gone in one swing from the man who was supposed to protect me.
Trials start tomorrow morning. And I can't hold a bow.

One of my employees went online and dragged me, claiming I'm making them sacrifice their health for a paycheck and forcing everyone to work over Thanksgiving.

Here's what actually happened. My company gives nine days off for Thanksgiving. Volunteer to work overtime, get triple pay, with a $500 daily meal stipend and a $5,000 bonus. No one gets penalized for not working.

The whole internet's tearing into me for making employees sell their lives for cash. So I give her exactly what she wants and send out a company-wide notice:

To protect employee mental health, the building gets locked and the power gets cut over Thanksgiving. No one is allowed to work for any reason. Anyone who does gets fired.

The minute that email goes out, the employees who were counting on overtime to pay their mortgages lose it. Now they're all crowded outside the building, begging me to open the doors.

To win back his one true love, my husband sent me, pregnant and vulnerable, straight into the clutches of a rival mob's dungeon.
I was torn apart by vicious dogs, a brutal end for both me and my unborn child.
After death, my spirit drifted back home, only to hear him coldly chuckle, "Let her learn her lesson; she won't come back until she admits she was wrong."
It wasn't until a mangled, rotting body was dumped at his feet, and he saw the blood-soaked wedding ring on its finger, that this heartless mob boss finally snapped...

"Forty dollars. That's all the inhaler I needed to breathe cost. But in our house, nothing comes easy. 'Fairness first. Roll the dice — highest number wins.' I've rolled my whole life. I've never won. Not once. Tonight, lungs burning, vision blurring, I rolled for my medicine money against my sister. She got a six. I got a two. 'You lost, Hazel. Now go to the attic and think about your selfishness.' The door locked behind me. My chest is closing up. And no one is coming to check."

"Are you always this damn sensitive?" my husband snapped, his hands lingering on his ex’s waist.
I stood there, holding our 5th-anniversary cake and my pregnancy secret. He canceled our romantic dinner just to comfort her.
So, I threw the cake away. Next, I'll throw him away.

Married to the head of the Valenti family for five years. Kidnapped on our anniversary. Pregnant a month later.
Five paternity tests said the baby wasn't his. My husband got a vasectomy and swore he'd raise the child as his own.
I believed him.
Then came the therapy. The drugs. Nightmares where I was pinned down by multiple men, so real I could feel their hands hours after waking. I scrubbed my skin raw. Tried to end it six times.
He saved me every time. Held my hand. Told me no one would ever hurt me again.
Until the night I heard him laughing about it in his study.
The kidnapping was staged. The nightmares were chemicals. The DNA reports were forged. All of it — designed by my own husband to protect another woman.
Now I have a recording, a divorce agreement, and a very small box of ashes.
He's marrying her next week. I'll make sure he gets my wedding gift on time.

For nine years, I lived as my twin sister’s replacement Luna. I raised her pup as if she were my own. I treated that man as my fated mate. What I got in return was the Pack that unanimously decided I was the monster who “killed Edna”, and the sinner Ann swore should go to hell.
At Ann’s birthday banquet, I accidentally knocked over a framed photo. Ann shoved me in front of a room full of Alphas and elders, drenching me in red wine, smiling as she said I wasn’t worthy of touching anything of the House.
I thought that if I endured nine years, I could finally leave. Then Eric suddenly changed his mind.
Ann stuffed the corpse of the little bird I’d been raising into a gift box and threatened me with a sweet smile. “You’re the next.”
When I dragged my suitcase to the door, she shifted to wolf in front of everyone, slammed me to the ground, her fangs pressed against my throat.
What they didn’t expect was that my real backer had returned, the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, my biological father, David.

Five years, I bled for Dario. Took a bullet for him. Cleaned up his dirtiest books. Drank myself into the ER just to keep his bosses sweet.
Then he slid divorce papers across the table and told me to sign. His mistress was pregnant; the family needed a "proper" heir, and I was in the way. So I signed—and let him strip me of everything I'd built.
Three hours later, a rival crew ran his car off the bridge. He survived. But he will never father a child again.
Now he's pouring a fortune he can't spare into his mistress's baby, showing off his "heir" to every boss in New York. He thinks his bloodline is finally safe.
He has no idea whose child he's really raising. And I'm the only one who does.

I was reborn on the very night George White—Don of the White family—was drugged and lost his mind to pure, animal lust.
This time, I didn't offer myself as the cure.
Instead, I gave him the woman he truly wanted. My sister.

In my past life, I fell in love with the Don of the White family. George.
When I learned he'd been drugged—stripped of every shred of reason—I made the choice I could never take back.
I didn't push him away. A month later, I was pregnant.
The family council forced him to marry me. For the heir. For the name. For everything except love.
On the morning of our wedding, my sister Leah couldn't bear it. She fled the estate alone.
That night, a rival family's killers found her.
Before she died, she called George ninety-nine times.
But George was at my wedding. The wedding I had begged for. So he never answered. Not once.

After marrying Rex, I lived every moment on edge, like a she-wolf treading thin ice.
I had to obey his suffocating rules of cleanliness—ritual-level strictness that bordered on obsession—and endure his complete indifference in bed, a coldness no heat could thaw.
I healed his mind when it was fractured, soothed the instability in his wolf, and stood beside him as he rose—step by step—to become the next Alpha heir of the GloomFall Pack.
And yet, on the night of my thirtieth birthday, I discovered the truth.
He was entangled with his father’s mistress—the secret lover of the former Alpha.

When Catherine Meyers started a new school in New York all she wanted was to be invincible. She was okay with being in the background. She planned to finish high school with a good GPA and go to Harvard. She wanted to be a neurosurgeon.

But her hopes were shattered when a force from the past which she couldn't remember barged into her life again.
And this time he promised to ruin her.

Ace Hampton was the King of Riverside highschool and Catherine Meyers is the rose he vowed to remove her petals one after the other until she is gone.

Her father killed his father, how dare she act like she doesn't know him?

He remembers her but she couldn't remember him and he would make her pay.

★★★
WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS SEXUAL SCENES AND BEHAVIORS THAT MIGHT SEEM WEIRD TO OTHER PEOPLE SO IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED PLEASE AVOID THIS BOOK.
BE WARNED THIS IS A DARK ROMANCE BOOK.

In their eyes, my wife Emma—an Ivy League tenured professor in biological sciences—is ruthless, rational, and obsessively clean.
For seven years, even when she washed her hands, she would only ever touch the right-side sink—hers.
Until that night at 3 a.m., when I pulled a strand of sandy-golden short curl—hair that belonged to neither of us—out of my men’s shower loofah.
And around the neck of a pre-med student named Lucas, I saw the antique silver cross my dying father left in my hands.
When I confronted her, my always-icy wife protected the little homewrecker, slapped me across the face, and called me a jealous, controlling chauvinist.
She thought I’d swallow it like a coward.
But she forgot: as a top cardiothoracic chief, the thing I do best is cutting out tumors.

He was dragged onto a debate stage as a replacement.

He could barely order lunch without apologizing to the cashier.

Then he took one wrong sip from the bottle in his bag, stood up in front of six hundred people, and made the national champion forget how to answer.

My wolf was damaged the day I first shifted, when I was ten. I’ve healed slower than other wolves ever since, and a wolf like that can’t inherit a pack.

I grew up mocked and bullied for being the weak one.

My sister, Seraphina, shifted on the same day and came through it perfectly. She became the Alpha heir, the prodigy my parents poured everything into.

I thought they loved her more because she could carry the pack and I couldn’t. I took a rabid bear’s claws for her at thirteen. I was her sparring partner by day and her tutor by night, and I learned not to argue.

When Seraphina was accepted to the Royal Wolf Academy, the whole estate celebrated. My parents were going to escort her there themselves in a bulletproof Cadillac. But nobody cared that I’d been accepted to a college a thousand miles from home.

And today was the day I was leaving for school, too.

When I asked whether I should leave for the airport, my father told me to figure it out myself. My mother told me to clean up after my sister's party first.

I was done waiting for them to care. I decided to let them be the perfect family of three.

I already had a one-way ticket on my phone. By tonight, I would be gone from their lives.

Six years ago, Evelyn White caught her husband Arthur Collins cheating, then left his mansion—pregnant and unseen. Now she’s back as Eve, a top artist, with two genius twins. At her exhibition, the kids yell “Mommy”… and Arthur’s world breaks. He’s obsessed with dragging her (and the kids he never knew) back. She just wants to paint and protect her family. But as their past’s lies unravel, escaping him means fighting for more than just freedom.

She needed to save her scholarship. He needed to save his career. Falling in love was never part of the deal.

Nova Arden lives by one rule: stay under the radar, keep her scholarship, and stay far away from the arrogant campus jerks.

But when the university threatens to cut her figure skating program due to a lack of recognition, her entire future is on the brink of collapse.

Enter Colt Callahan, the golden-boy captain of the school's hockey team who gets everything he wants. The fame, trophy wins, and endless attention. But behind the arrogant smirk, Colt is hiding a serious injury that could cost him his NHL draft.

When Colt’s hockey coach decides his stiff skating is costing him on the ice, he arranges for Nova to train him. The tension between them explodes.

Nova has no patience for Julian’s entitled attitude, and Colt finds her refusal to be impressed by him strangely irresistible. Their practices quickly become a mix of bantering, teasing and lingering looks. Somewhere along the way, their dislike turns into a passion both of them can’t ignore.

Just as their hidden romance deepens, Nova’s past comes knocking. When things start to fall apart, the player who usually runs from drama is ready to take drastic measures to protect his girl.

Will their secret love survive the scandal, or will the ghosts of her past freeze them both out?

I loved Callum Crane for five years. He said I didn't fit. Then he proposed — to my sister.
The same night, his brother called me with the most insane idea I've ever heard: marry him instead. Same day. Same venue. Right across the hall from my ex and my sister's ceremony.
I said yes. Not because I loved Emrys Crane. Because I'd rather set the whole thing on fire than sit in a pew and watch.
Here's the thing about revenge marriages, though. They're supposed to be fake.
Nobody told Emrys.
The man had a wrench set in his truck that only fit my grandmother's machine — bought years before I ever spoke to him. He'd been sneaking looks through my workshop window so often the stone wore down. He fixed my motorcycle three times and never mentioned it. He remembered that I stared at a piece of almond brittle for ten seconds once, and bought it for me weeks later.
Seven years. He'd been in love with me for seven years. Said nothing. Did everything.
And Callum? The man who told me I didn't fit?
He showed up at my orchard with an apology and a folder full of evidence against my sister, begging for a second chance.
I looked him in the eye and said: "Too late. Wrong harvest."
He tried five more times. It only got worse for him.

"I'm six weeks pregnant with Asher's baby," my husband's mistress texted me, attaching a photo of a torn condom wrapper on my husband’s desk.
"If he really loved you, what am I?"
I just called a secret number.
"Are you sure you want to activate the Ghost Protocol?" my brother asked over the encrypted line.
"Once done, your identity is erased. You will cease to exist."
"Do it," I replied coldly.
My billionaire husband thinks he can keep his perfect marriage and his wild mistress.
He has no idea that his gentle, low-profile wife is actually the most dangerous princess of the New York Mafia.
I gave him a 15-day countdown.
On the final day, he opened his "anniversary gift"—only to find his cheating evidence and a house completely emptied of my existence.
He tore the city apart looking for me, going insane.
But how do you find a woman who never legally existed?

On college application day, my two childhood sweethearts, Blaise and Kieran, were completely bewitched by Mari. The manipulative girl talked them into abandoning their prestigious university spots to attend a small community college with her. I tried desperately to stop them, even contacting their parents to prevent them from ruining their futures.
Yet when Mari ended up dead months later, the blind boys blamed everything on me. They tricked me to the cliff and shoved me down brutally, making me pay for a crime I never committed.
Miraculously, I am reborn on this exact day. This time, I will not interfere. I will watch silently and let them bear the consequences of their own foolish choices.

I boarded The Elysium, thinking it was just another job.

A luxury cruise ship. A floating paradise for the world’s elite.

Private. Untouchable. Unregulated.

I was wrong.

Within hours, I was accused of a murder I didn’t commit.

And on The Elysium, innocence is not something you prove.

It’s something you lose.

That’s when I met him.

Silas Voss.

They call him the Sovereign of the ship.

He didn’t ask if I was guilty.

He asked how much I was worth.

I was given a choice:

Death… or a ninety-day contract under his control.

His physician.
His property.
His possession.

I signed it.

Because I had no other way to survive.

I told myself I could endure him.

I told myself I could outsmart him.

But The Elysium doesn’t break people through violence alone.

It breaks them through permission.

And Silas Voss never takes what he can’t make you agree to give.

Every attempt I made to escape only brought me closer to him.

Every rule I broke only made him calmer.

More patient.

More interested.

Until I realized something I never should have felt in a place like this—

Fear wasn’t the worst part anymore.

And what he was turning me into… might be worse than what he did to me.

⚠MATURE READERS ONLY⚠ DARK ROMANCE | MORALLY GREY HERO | OBSESSION | FORCED PROXIMITY ⚠

Jessica Howard was Ridgeview Homecoming Queen.

She smiled for the cameras, accepted her crown... and disappeared before the after-party. No body was found. No ransom. No answers.

The next morning, every student's phone lit up with the same notification. ‘A new app has been installed.’ No one downloaded it. No one can delete it.
It's simply called NEXT.

At midnight, NEXT chooses a name. The next day... Someone dies. Or something even worse happens.

The police call them accidents, the students call it a curse. I call it impossible.

I was never supposed to be part of this. I’m Sabrina Markson. The scholarship girl nobody notices. I came to Ridgeview to earn a future, not become part of its darkest mystery.

But somehow I ended up with the final piece of Jessica’s puzzle. The one clue that could blow the whole thing wide open.

Now the whispers are turning into threats. And the only person who’s willing to help me is the last person I should trust, Luke Carpenter. The school’s notorious bad boy. Trouble with a capital T.

We started out hating each other. But late nights chasing clues turn into shared moments. Stolen glances in empty hallways turn into him walking me home when NEXT starts targeting people close to me.

With every secret we uncover, it gets harder to tell if I’m falling for him... or falling into a trap.

As Luke and I dig deeper, it gets harder to tell who’s hunting who. And to figure out if what’s growing between us can survive when everyone around us is dropping.

Together, we need to unmask the culprits, and stop the stupid app from sending any more death notifications.

Because if we don’t find them first…
We’re next on the list.

Five years ago, Eric took the fall for his fiancée’s brother and was thrown into the notorious Saint Paul Mountain Women’s Prison.

Little did the world know, this hell on earth became his ultimate training ground.

Enduring brutal training under seven legendary masters, he emerged as a supreme martial artist and a divine healer, eventually taking over as the prison’s absolute warden.

But when he steps out, his world shatters: his three general brothers were ambushed and killed in action, his grandfather is on his deathbed, and his family empire has been reduced to ruins by wolves.

Now, the King of Saint Paul Mountain has returned to the city.

To those who betrayed his family and brought shame to his name—prepare to pay a hundredfold!

“You look soft, Pretty Boy. Like one hard hit on the ice would break you in half.”
“Then don’t hit me, Captain.”
A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “Who said anything about hitting you?”


My twin brother lived for hockey.
He was the university’s star winger, and the boy everyone expected to go pro but then he died.
Everyone called it an accident. I didn’t.
The last person seen with him was the university’s hockey captain.
The same captain everyone worships and the same captain I know is hiding something.
So I did the only thing I could.
I cut off my hair, bound my chest, buried my identity, and transferred to the same university disguised as a boy, determined to uncover the truth behind my brother’s death and expose the captain for the monster I believe he is.
No one can know who I really am, not my teammates, not the coaches.
And especially not the captain who watches me like he already knows I’m lying.
Living with twenty hockey players is a nightmare.
Becoming roommates with the one man I came to destroy is even worse.
He calls me Pretty Boy, pushes every button I have and protects me when no one else does.
And with every passing day, the man I swore murdered my brother becomes harder to hate… and impossible to stop wanting.
But someone knows why my brother died.
Someone is willing to kill to keep the truth buried.
And if I don’t uncover it before my disguise falls apart…
My brother won’t be the only one who never makes it off the ice.


…
A hidden-identity MF hockey romance.

BLURB

She is the nerd nobody cares about.

He is the hockey team captain and the popular guy on campus.

She's always an object of ridicule.

He is always there to save her.

He is her enemy.

She is the one girl that is able to catch his attention.

Their worlds couldn't have been more different.

Everything goes down the drain when Skylar falls in love with the one boy she is supposed to guard her heart around.

And even messier when the one person she hates the most in school not only stands up for her but kisses her as though his life depends on it.

What starts out as a contract becomes too real to be true, especially when she finds out her perfect golden boy is not just good on ice but rides his bike like he was born with the brakes.

A biker gang prince, a nerd guru, and secrets that come crashing down on them.

Their love gets forbiddenly sweeter when the biker prince finds out that everything Skylar has suffered is traced back to his bloodline.

During the SATs, someone in the exam room went completely mad, screaming about a freezing apocalypse and ghouls eating everyone in the world. Everyone laughed at him, but I was the only one frozen in shock.
Because the pendant on my chest, which could warn me of danger, was emitting an unprecedented, blazing alarm...