3531 Book(s) Related to millionaire in love with a poor maid

After being forced to marry the alpha king, Katlyn feels her life is a living hell, but she never expected this sinister, frivolous alpha to become the perfect, adoring husband. 
"Honey, you're so sweet," he said, kissing her cheek

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

$630.

Exactly the price of the fruit platter on their table.

That was all I had cost him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is absolutely no antidote.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For years, I'd covered everything for my mate's family. The house, the car, the bags, the clothes.

So when they planned a family vacation, I thought I'd finally earned a spot.

Instead, they booked tickets for the whole family, plus Sloane, the childhood sweetheart who never quite left my mate's side. Even the dog had plans.

I was the one they expected to stay home and keep working. They called it a kindness.

And they expected me to cover the bill.

Fine. Let them go.

It would be the last trip of theirs I ever paid for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don’t believe for a second that Roman’s so-called “protection” is really for my sake. He keeps warning me about danger and enemies, trying to scare me off, but I refuse to back down. The pull between us is undeniable—intense, electric. I’d rather walk into the fire than let him go. Still, jealousy twists inside me whenever I think about Regina. I can’t help but wonder if Roman truly cares for me, or if I’m just another casualty in his chaotic world. The harder he pushes me away, the more determined I am to stay. Even if I’m scared, I have to take the risk—to see if I really matter to him.


"I'm sorry, for everything." His voice was sincere and his intoxicating breath brushed against my face and I staggered back a step. "I know I hurt you, though, that certainly wasn't my intention but I'm trying to protect you."
"Protect me from what?" I hissed.
"Me." He said coldly. He glared back. Finally provoked.
Are you kidding me? This was his excuse? Really? I rolled my eyes and stood up, my jaw clenched tight. "Can you at least try to be original?"
"Nuru, I can't be with you, not only is it not safe for you because in my job I piss a lot of people off," he insisted, speaking slowly. He sounded annoyed."...a third of those people want me dead, half of those would do anything to get to me — even go as far as hurt the people I care about." He shook his head with a grimace.
I wondered if I shouldn't be scared that people would want to hurt me if I continued to be in Roman's presence; instead I felt uncomfortable, the thought of staying away from him would hurt me more. The idea of abandoning Roman for a lifetime without him was repulsive to me. It made me sick. There was a connection between us I was sure only came once in a lifetime. I wouldn't leave him for anything. So why should this be any different? And a smile curved my lips. He'd admitted he cared about me — not in so many words, but still I felt a surge of pleasure.
"You had no problem with being with that stupid girl, Regina," I mumbled, wondering how much of my anxiety he could read. How much of my jealousy.
His face turned cold, expressionless. "You can't seriously compare this, us... to what I shared with"

Being a Cinderella, I was forced to marry a rich man who was crippled. But I was shocked when I met him. He made me realize that I deserved nothing but him. Now I don't care about his health situation. All I want is him by my side.
That's all, I felt when I fall in love with him slowly, desperately and hopelessly. Until on the honeymoon, I finally found out, my husband who loves me dearly , met his first love who supposed to be dead. Will he leave me for her?

For seven years, I told myself James wasn't cold; he simply loved quietly. Then my car died after midnight, and he told me to call a cab. When I earned the promotion I had chased for two years, he forgot my message. But when his ex said she felt sick, he left work with medicine in one hand and her exact coffee order in the other. That was when I understood: my husband knew how to care. He had simply never chosen to care for me. By our anniversary, I would stop waiting, leave his gift on the table, and move out. Only then would James begin to love me—and by then, it would be too late.

“Dad… please… help me…” I pleaded, my shattered ribs piercing my lungs, blood soaking the stretcher.
But Richard, the hospital's top surgeon and my biological father, didn't even glance at me. Instead, he rushed to the next bed.
“Don't be afraid, Chloe. I'm here,” he cooed to his stepdaughter, who merely had a tiny scratch on her arm. “Get the best equipment over here now!” he roared.
As the heart monitor flatlined and my soul left my broken body, I realized the chilling truth: in the choice between life and death, my father gladly let me die.

In order to rush to comfort his assistant whose apartment was leaking, Richard signed his name hastily without even glancing at the documents on the table.
I put away the divorce agreement with a wry smile.
When he and my son completely disappeared, he finally panicked.
Three months later .
He knelt down on the streets of Chicago in despair, begging me to remarry him.
My six-year-old son looked coldly at his biological father and said, "Get lost, you bad uncle! You don't deserve to be my dad!"

My long-lost twin sister has returned.
The first thing she did was demand to marry my fiancé.
Jayden, murmuring apologies, held her close as they walked into the city hall.
My family urged me to be generous, saying, "After all she’s been through, you owe her this much. You've had a good life all these years—why not let her have this?"
Until the day of their wedding, no one could find me.
But what they didn't know was that my body had been drifting at sea for over ten days.

I was dying — and he was loving someone else.
I left.
Now he wants me back… but will I let him?

Inks Game

Life was good, the club was at peace. I rode, I partied and I inked my art onto peoples skin.
But God it was boring.
Right up until Molly moved in next door. Sweet, beautiful and clearly hiding something, she came in like a wrecking ball and took us all by surprise.
We all wanted the single mum. We all made the bet.
But the more I learnt about her, the more I realised that this was a game I couldn’t afford to lose.
Friendships and loyalties might be tested, but I was playing for keeps.

Phantoms and Lies

I know what everyone says about me.
I’m broody but more than anything I know how to keep myself hidden.
Which makes me the perfect person to go and investigate the disappearance of one of my club brothers, sisters. I was to watch out for her sister and keep her safe until the other one could be found, that’s all.
No touching.
And definitely no falling in love.
But the more I watched Rancher's little sister, the harder that became because I was pretty sure Clara has a secret and it was going to blow everything apart.

(Dive back into the world of the Lost Reapers, catch up with old friends and fall in love all over again in this new exciting installment)

Cover designer RJ Creatives

When The Wrong One Loves You Right
Enemies make the best lovers...

Evelyn Rodriguez needs to find who murdered her sister. But her only suspect is sexy as hell and every kind of wrong. Suddenly Evelyn's not sure if it's determination that's got her pulse racing–or something altogether less appropriate. Worse of all, she has to live under the same roof with him.

Supernova Jason Lyndon, burnt by experience and casual flings is torn between taking the offer of the man he despises the most or the woman that annoys him the most. Either way, he wasn't about to go to jail for something he didn't do. He realized too late chosing Evelyn's offer was a terrible idea. She didn't only arouse all his sexual antennas but started pulling down the firm wall– he's spent years building– around his heart.

CRIME. SUSPENSE. ROMANCE.

"I promise I didn't do anything that day". He cups my face and stares deeply into my eyes.
"I want to believe you but I can't". I place my hands on his. I close my eyes and let the tears fall.

I feel a soft kiss on my cheeks trailing down to my neck. His hands move up my back as he claims my lips in his. My tears flow freely. He pushes me to the wall gently and claim my lips again. I let my hands do what they have been itching to do and run my fingers through his soft hair.


When Isabel Díaz finds out about her boyfriend and soon-to-be baby daddy's betrayal on Christmas Eve, she packs up and leaves.
Two years later, she is unexpectedly transferred back to America. She later discovers that this is Jaxon Slade's doing. Moving back there right before Christmas feels like déjà vu.
Will the health of their child bring them together and allow him to redeem himself or will it drift them further apart?

For as long as I could remember, my family had insisted Vivian needed more because I could take more.
The pony I loved. The occasions meant to celebrate me. Time with my mother. If my twin wanted any of it, I was the one expected to go without.
Our induction into the Mafia Family was meant to be the exception. We were both daughters of Don Moretti. A crown was supposed to be waiting for each of us.
But Vivian's made-to-order crown glittered with both our diamonds, and the one assigned to me was tarnished, its setting bare. At the formal dinner, Father had my place card sent to the bottom of the table for not dressing properly—after I had spent my time crossing Manhattan to fetch Vivian's gown.
They assumed I'd give way, just as I always had.
This time, I canceled my part in the ceremony, filled a single suitcase, and took a flight with no return ticket.
When the Moretti Family assembled under its crest, two crowns were waiting. Only one daughter was prepared to put hers on.

When my roommate Sutton woke up from a wet dream, she was literally glowing. She claimed it was the most mind-blowing romantic experience of her life—the man’s silhouette, his scent, his body heat felt impossibly real.
Even crazier? When she checked her phone, there was a strange new number saved in her contacts. It belonged to the man from her dream.
While the rest of us shrieked about destiny, our moody roommate Jessamine just stared at the screen and dropped a chilling warning: "Things that come looking for you in dreams should stay buried."
We all wrote her off as a jealous freak.
That is, until I started noticing Sutton’s face growing more haggard by the day—and the fact that her "perfect boyfriend" refused to speak a single word to her.

"Someone is right behind you."
It's the most common comment I get in the chat during my late-night streams.
But when that exact phrase abruptly hijacked my screen, spammed in bold, blood-red letters, my blood ran completely cold.
Because deep down, I knew. This time, they weren't joking.
It was real.

A wealthy heir was ordered to seduce me, intending to photograph me in compromising positions to destroy my reputation.
At midnight, his hands trembled as he prepared to send the photos, but I coldly exposed his cowardice and ambition.
That night, he deleted all the evidence before my eyes, his gaze filled with complete fanaticism and submission.
Later, he knelt on one knee with a diamond ring, but I poured myself a drink: "I don't need a partner to share power with—I just need an obedient dog."

I’m in love with my sworn enemy.
My touch tames his inner beast.
… Until I find another woman’s bite mark on his neck.

As a holy witch, I shouldn't be sneaking out for Zuri—a cursed shape-shifter from a rival clan.
But our forbidden heat is intoxicating.
When his monstrous Primal breaks free, slaughtering everything in its path, even his fiercest warriors cower.
I don't.
I walk straight to the blood-soaked beast, press my body against his, and tame him with a single, desperate embrace.

There’s just one problem: his clan betrothed him to a Shaman’s daughter.

I tell myself it's purely political. I tell myself his heart is mine.
Until tonight.
He sneaks into the woods for me. We share a deep, hungry kiss under the moonlight.
But as I pull back, my blood runs cold.
Right there, on the neck of the man I just risked my soul to save...
Is a fresh, undeniable bite mark.

"I came here to kill him. Now I’m the only one who can save him."

Cressida Ashcroft is the last witch alive. For eleven years, she's hidden her magic, suppressed her power, and trained for one purpose: infiltrate Blackfrost Academy and destroy the werewolf heir whose family slaughtered hers. But when a near-fatal accident puts her in the arms of Lucian Thorneval, the enemy she swore to hate becomes the only one who makes her feel alive.

One thing keeps them together; ice hockey and biking.
Bound by a forbidden magic neither of them understands, hunted by his betrothed, a princess who killed her own sister to claim him. Cressida must choose: the revenge that has kept her breathing, or the boy who is slowly dying for his family's sins.

Some bonds are written in blood. This one will be written in fire.

Rosalie Bellrose has always believed there are worse things than being a witch. Being a terrible one, for example.

Her magic never answers to spells or potions. It slips into her baking instead: happiness in honey cakes, forgotten memories in cinnamon rolls, longing in strawberry tarts. So Rosalie runs her strange little bakery, sells enchanted pastries to those who can afford them, and keeps her magic to herself.

She never imagined her secret would end up on a king's plate.

Kael Edevane is the ruthless king of the kingdom, and when something goes terribly wrong after he eats one of Rosalie's creations, her quiet life comes crashing down. By morning, her bakery is shut down and soldiers are at her door.

But that's only the beginning.

For the first time in years, Kael can feel again. Her warmth. Her loneliness. Her anger. And worst of all, her desire.

Then Rosalie discovers her grandmother's death was not what she was told. Whatever her grandmother was hiding, someone is willing to kill for it.

And the closer Kael gets to Rosalie, the more dangerous their attraction becomes. Because there are secrets surrounding her that neither of them can afford to uncover.

If Rosalie cannot find the truth before they find her first, she may lose more than the bakery her grandmother left behind.

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.

On my son's seventh birthday, he hid behind my husband's first love and shouted at me, "You're a bad woman! She's my real mom!"
My husband was even crueler. He threw me out of the house without a second thought.
"To me, you were nothing but a surrogate."
Heartbroken, I walked away—and later adopted an abandoned little boy.
Years passed, when my husband finally learned the truth about the woman he had always protected, he came to me with our biological son, both of them kneeling before me in tears, begging for forgiveness.
Holding my adopted son's hand, I smiled calmly.
"Sorry. I only have one son."

"Starting price for my wife—one dollar!" James announced, pointing at the dog cage where I lay curled up like a dying animal.

The crowd at the wedding erupted in laughter. "Five dollars!" "Ten!" They threw bids like trash, mocking the woman who used to be Mrs. Windsor. Lillian, wearing my stolen necklace, poked me through the bars with a metal rod. "Look at you, Aurora. You're nothing but filth." I closed my eyes, accepting my fate. My husband had sold me. My dignity was gone.

Suddenly, a cold, authoritative voice cut through the noise.

"Two hundred million."

Silence fell over the hall. Every head turned. Walking through the doors was a man radiating power—Louis Smith, the newly found heir to the Smith empire. The man I had pushed away ten years ago. James turned pale. "Mr. Smith... this is a joke..."

Louis didn't even look at him. He walked straight to the cage, his eyes burning with a terrifying mix of rage and tenderness. He ripped the lock off with his bare hands and pulled me into his arms. James tried to block him. "She's my wife! You can't just take her!"

Louis smirked, his voice dripping with ice. "Your wife? I just bought her. She's mine now."

My wife and in-laws have been acting strange lately.

They've always hated the Texas farm, but now they suddenly care about me and the ranch.

My wife, who used to complain about me spending money on the "doomsday bunker" farmhouse project, is now actually encouraging me to complete it.

They even say I've been working too hard and bought me a plane ticket to Mexico.

Just as I'm about to take the ticket, a barrage comment appears before my eyes—

【Don't go! Your wife has been reborn from the apocalypse—she wants you to die out there!】

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

I thought I was protecting hope.

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

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

My girlfriend—Vera Walker.

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

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

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

They forgot one thing.

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

And I’m back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She cursed the Demon King. He has spent centuries hunting her.
Maeve has no memory of the life that made her the most wanted witch in the Lore. She only knows she has never stayed in one place for long and that monsters seem to find her wherever she runs. Then a stranger walks into her shop. He was cold and beautiful and very very dangerous. The Demon King.
One kiss is enough for King Eldon to realize the impossible. His greatest enemy has returned. She is the witch who cursed him in another lifetime. The woman who stole his future, shattered his kingdom and vanished before he could make her pay.
She remembers nothing. But demons only recognize their true mate after the bond is tested and every instinct tells Eldon she might be the one fate has denied him for centuries. He swore he would never forgive her. She swore she would never belong to a demon.
Now the only woman who can save his kingdom may also be the one destined to destroy it again.

BOOK 2 in Mated to my Ruin series. Can be read as standalone.
BOOK 1–Mated to my Ruin: A Dragon’s Debt

She built a quiet life from the wreckage of a marriage that nearly swallowed her whole. A bakery. A hidden talent for art. And a son she loves more than breathing. At forty, Corinna Adler is composed, grounded, but devastatingly unsated, starved and untouched.

One night was supposed to fix that.

One anonymous night at Obscura, the city's most secretive underground club with a man whose hands knew things about her body she had forgotten were possible. Young, commanding, and patient. The kind of man Corinna would unfortunately, never forget.

Because the morning after, he re-introduces himself into her reality in a way she never sees coming.

Do all men lose interest in their wives after marriage?

We’ve been married for five years, and he never touched me.

At first he said he wasn’t well, so I was understanding. Later he recovered, but still kept me far away.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my sister came in for a check-up, clearly pregnant with his child.

The truth hit me hard: he wasn’t incapable. He was just incapable with me.

I drew up the divorce papers, ready to end this empty marriage.

On the reason for divorce, I wrote with my own hand:

“Male sexual dysfunction; no marital relations in five years.”

He only smiled coldly when he saw it.

A week later, in the urology clinic.

I put on my medical gloves, looked at him, and said calmly:

“Sir, will you undress yourself, or shall I help you?”

His disapproval didn’t take away my confidence.

I still embraced better things in my career and love life!

But his life started to be filled with one accident after another.

"Evelyn Drake, are you truly set on joining the FBI as an undercover agent?"
The senior officer Garrett stared intently at the elegantly dressed woman before him, his gaze laced with inquiry and faint doubt.
It was his occupational habit, even a special knack, to categorize everyone he met into distinct social ranks—and he was exceptionally good at it, never once misjudging anyone.
In his eyes, Evelyn Drake, with her flawless makeup and platinum-blonde hair all the way down to the roots, was far from cut out to be an agent.
He had seen countless such pampered wealthy wives throwing petty tantrums. Most would make a scene at the front desk, only to be coaxed home meekly by their rich husbands soon after.
If such a delicate lady were admitted into the FBI, he suspected even the Kevlar bulletproof vest alone would chafe her soft skin raw.
Lost in these thoughts, Garrett let out a disdainful chuckle, his tone brimming with scorn. "Are you really sure? You'd give up your lavish lifestyle to become an FBI agent?"
Sensing his contempt, Evelyn took off her expensive wristwatch and slipped it into her handbag, then nodded firmly at him. "I am absolutely certain."

She was claimed.

She was broken.

Now they both want her back but this time she makes the rules.

Carols life was never her own.

First an Alpha who called her his fated mate raised her under his iron fist molding her into the perfect survivor.

Then a stranger with hypnotic blue eyes took her body and vanished without a trace.

Years later both men return.

One demands her absolute submission.

The other awakens a hunger she cannot suppress.

But they are both lying.

Because Carol is not just a pawn fought over by two powerful men.

She is the missing crown in a deadly game between werewolves and vampires.

Her blood holds the secret that could rewrite the war between species.

And the closer she gets to the truth

The more dangerous her desire becomes.

Loving either of them could destroy her.

Choosing neither?

A massacre will follow.

Unless she finds a third path.

Not as their mate. Not as their prey.

But as the hunter.

Blurb:

Rejected by her mate, sold as a slave by her family, Lilith is bittered by the amount of betrayal she suffered in the hands of those that she calls family.

Hurt by rejection, she gets herself drunk and has a one night stand with a total stranger and then sees him as the Alpha of Blood moon pack.. The same pack she's meant to become a slave at.

Meeting the Alpha of Blood moon pack and recognizing him as the stranger from that night, she did everything to avoid him.

But, the more Lilith tries to get away from Alpha Damian, the more she finds herself getting closer to him.

The more the Alpha King desires her.

Fourteen years I gave him.
Every storm I shielded him from.
Every mess I cleaned up for him.
I made him a king of Manhattan.
On my forty-second birthday, he brought my enemy's daughter to my party.
He forged my medical records.
He tried to strip me of my trust.
He thought I was done.
He forgot one thing: I made him.
And I have a son he never knew existed.

In my last life, I was the one who stopped it.
The second I recognized what was in that cup—a cold medicine loaded with compounds that end any pilot's career on contact with a drug screening—I knocked it out of Ivy's hands. Reid shoved me so hard I hit the coffee table. He got his four stripes anyway. Then he publicly destroyed my reputation, stood by while his fans harassed me off the internet, and smiled when I was pushed down a flight of stairs.
I died knowing he never looked back.
This time, I come back as myself: senior aviation medical officer, five years into a relationship with a man I now see clearly. When Ivy holds out that same cup with that same bright smile, I already know exactly what's in it.
I take a step back.
"Drink it while it's hot," I tell him. "Don't leave a drop."
I spent one lifetime being everyone's safety net. Not this time.

Kayla Faye has spent years waiting for the right moment to tell her childhood best friend how she truly feels. She waited through tenth grade when he started avoiding her. She waited through eleventh grade when he left for college without saying goodbye. She even waited until the day before her graduation, convincing herself she was finally ready.

What she wasn't ready for was finding out Zayn Ponteris had been dead the entire time.

The grief shatters something inside her. And before anyone can stop it, Kayla does something no sorceress should be able to do—she travels back in time.

Suddenly she's fifteen again, standing at their end of year formal, with Zayn alive and right in front of her, completely unaware that in another timeline she watched his parents mourn him.

This time, Kayla is determined to save him. Except nothing goes according to plan.

Zayn has a girlfriend. And the closer Kayla gets to changing his fate, the more she realizes her powers are bigger and more dangerous than she ever imagined.

The supernatural world is closing in. The clock is running out. And the one person standing between Kayla and everything hunting her is the same boy she keeps bending time to protect.

Kayla has no idea what's in store for her.

Because when you bend time, fate bends back.

In my past life, I stopped my brother from donating a kidney to save his high school lover.
Lily didn't receive a transplant in time and died soon after.
Caleb kept his kidney. He passed the rookie draft physical, signed a max contract with a top team, and became the darling of the basketball world.
But he hated me for the rest of his life.

My parents called me cold and heartless. They said I killed Lily and destroyed Caleb's one true love.
Later, when Caleb hit a low point and needed someone to blame, my parents held me down while Arthur shattered my right hand.
They destroyed my career, drained my bank account, and left me to die of a raging fever in a rundown apartment.

Now, I open my eyes.
And I will never be their scapegoat again.

My first love was adopted by our family, and he promised he would always be there for me.
But after my dad passed away in a car accident, I found him with another woman in our bedroom.
He told everyone Caroline was his true love—that he only saw me as a sister—and claimed I was the one who was pestering him.
I was shamed by everyone. The stress gave my mother a stroke, and Caroline even had someone run me over, costing me an eye.
Seven years later, holding flowers, I ran into them outside a convenience store.
Arthur's son looked at me pityingly. "Dad, this lady lost an eye… Is she selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

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

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

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

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.