3878 Book(s) Related to grim reaper visited me in my dream

A seductive boss and his maid……
Note: This book may contain some steamy scenes…..
When a billionaire falls for his maid, what lengths must he go through, in order to make her his???
Using dubious means to get into her panties, does that make him the antagonist or the protagonist????

Read this interesting boss/maid affair story to find out more …..

The main character get kidnapped by a rival pack and get saved by her two mates who are alphas of an allied pack with her father. they have a lot of struggles while getting to know each other including getting kidnapped a second time while pregnant The female shifter and her five mates will have many struggles including with their pups but they put their strength and loyalty to the test with many pack as they become the Alphas of Alphas and rule the entire Kingdoms and counsels.

In a world where two wolf packs, the Moonblood, and Silver Claw, once fought a brutal war, Alpha Alex and Alpha Morgan are now forced into a marriage by the Moon Goddess to keep the peace, even though they are not mates and are both under a curse of not feeling the mate bond ever in their lifetime. Morgan is a stubborn Luna and Alex is a possessive and controlling alpha. The both of them can't stand each hold but are forced to be lovers rather than enemies, and not everyone is happy about this arrangement on both pack sides since the thirst for their enemies' blood and revenge is still strong in the hearts of members of the packs. But what happens when Morgan is forced into a contract with Alex to bear his heir as a sign of her loyalty to his pack, and Alex gets put in the position to either stand with his pack and kill Morgan or believe her innocence and fight for her after she gets accuse of killing their unborn baby?

Flora had to work three jobs to feed three people at the same time, her husband was a man without money, without work, lazy and worthless, but she always loved him. But in response to Flora's sincerity, Enzo – her ex-husband - treated her only as a servant and as a sexual slave. She couldn't stand the humiliation, so she decided to divorce. But after the divorce she discovered the true identity of her ex-husband, he is not a useless man but the CEO of a large multinational corporation. What's Going On? Why did her ex-husband hide her? He never spent a dollar on her or their little daughter. Does she regret choosing to divorce her ex-husband as in his warning?

Blurb

Jenna’s life shatters when a dangerous-looking stranger corners her asking about Alpha Caesar, the most feared man on campus, survival instinct kicks in.

She lies straight to his face and runs.

But fate has other plans. She thinks she's escaped.

She's wrong.

The man in her bathtub proves it.

Caesar—the ruthless alpha himself—is barely alive in her bathtub, his memories scattered like the trail of carnage he left behind. Jenna patches him up, counting the hours until she can shove him out her door and reclaim her quiet life.

But when Caesar's eyes finally open, everything changes. He looks at her like she's the answer to a question she never asked. His words raw and impossible;

"Mate."

One word. Her whole world tilts.

Because if Caesar believes she's his mate, whoever tried to kill him will be coming for her next. And the man who can't remember his own name somehow remembers her in ways that make her blood run cold.

How can Jenna escape from the possessive grip of the Alpha who have sworn to never let her go?

I felt his strong veiny right arm tighten around my naval to pull me closer to him from behind, as he left a small bite on my earlobe with a whisper, “Babe, come on…why are you being suddenly shy now? Isn’t this what you wanted? Weren’t you fantasizing about me…all this time?”

“W-Wait! W-What’s happening, Sir!? W-Why we are being like this!? T-This is so wrong…you are my boss and I am just your employee—” The way his low deep voice sent shivers down my spine, especially when he nipped on my earlobe which was one of my erogenous zones, I panicked and tried to break free from his restraint.

But the more I struggled, the more his grip around my body tightened, as if he was drawing all the strength out of me, “Why? Aren’t I allowed to show my love to my beloved wife?”

“W-W-Wife??” My voice choked from shock as I stared at him with wide disbelief unable.


Julia's life was turned upside down overnight when she faced a grave betrayal from her long-term boyfriend Marco, who chose her wicked stepsister Melanie on the same day Julia was expecting a proposal from him. Heartbroken and shattered, Julia ends up drowning her sorrow in alcohol, only to wake up the next day with hickeys all over her body with the realization that she had slept with a total stranger who had his face covered with a mask. Filled with shame and regret, somehow when she decided to move forward with her regular life, were her intuitions wrong when she felt the new handsome CEO of their company seemed oddly familiar to her?

As the powerful supernatural creature of Planet Alpha, Damon was stuck on the earth’s surface 200 years ago as a result of a technical error in his spaceship, but falling for an innocent human maiden who was nonetheless his ‘destined mate’ came out of his syllabus in his life.
However, destiny was ruthless. Losing the love of his life brutally and being left alone on earth for centuries, only with a promise from his ‘mate’ to be reborn, Damon had started to lose his hope only until his path crossed with Julia who ignited the lost hope in his heart that he wasn’t abandoned by his mate after all!

What happens when destiny stands out as the biggest obstacle between the love of a human girl and a supernatural alien? Will Julia be able to accept the dreadful secret Damon has been hiding behind his facade as a perfect man? When countless misunderstandings are involved, how will Damon and Julia rekindle their lost love? Will they succeed in protecting each other…or fate will tear them apart once again?

One sacred rule in the Silver Frost Pack: siblings can never be mates.

Until the moon goddess decided to play a cruel joke.

Killian Fenrirson would kill anyone who dared look at his little sister. As the pack's feared enforcer, protection runs in his blood. But when forbidden desires start haunting his dreams, the very sister he swore to protect becomes his sweetest temptation.

Faye has always lived in her brother's shadow, safe in his unwavering love. That is, until his touch starts burning through her skin and his growl sends shivers down her spine. Now, every moment together is both ecstasy and torture.

But someone in the pack has been watching. Waiting. When jealousy ignites into murderous rage, buried secrets claw their way to the surface. Blood will stain the snow. Bonds will shatter. And one of them will discover just how far they'll go to claim what was never meant to be theirs.

In the Silver Frost Pack, forbidden love doesn't just kill—it devours.

Evelyn Mitchell thought love meant sacrifice—until the man she married turned her into a ghost in her own home. Married for three years, ignored, humiliated, and blamed for a tragedy she didn’t cause, Evelyn is shattered when she learns she's pregnant with Fabian's child—the same man who loves her sister, Gina.
As secrets unravel and betrayal cuts deeper, Evelyn must decide: stay silent and disappear, or fight for the child she never thought she'd have… and the dignity she refuses to lose.
In a world where loyalty is twisted and love is weaponized, how far will one forgotten wife go to protect what's hers?

It took her five years to follow her own wishes and marry him. Yet he sold her to the Resorts World LA, killed their baby with his own hands...... What he did reduced her to the unprecedented misery and uncountable unhappiness. However, when she finally got rid of her love for him, which was like a poisonous thorn, he changed his mind and begged her to stay as if he"s gone mad. But for her, none of them mattered--love or reputation. He"d rather die than crawl back to the grave he built for her!

When Sylvia lost her last family and thought this was where her life as a rogue began, the most powerful Alpha dragged her to his mansion.
"I owe your father a debt," he said to her. "Anything you desire, I’ll give it."
But as he leaned closer—cedar and danger swirling in the air—all she wanted was:
His teeth on her neck.
His kiss like a brand.

Invent any power you want.
But if anyone guesses it, you die.
Most contestants choose simple abilities: invisibility, teleportation, super strength. They begin dying within hours.
Evan Reed chooses something else.
He writes definitions. Exceptions. Appendices. Loopholes. Countermeasures. Hundreds of thousands of words that turn every sentence into a law of reality.
Now billions of viewers are trying to solve him, the system’s Judge has entered the game, and Evan is still typing.
Because his real weapon isn’t gravity control, conceptual erasure, or immortality.
It’s the fine print.

Claire Bennett built her marriage the way she built her fortune: with clear eyes, sharp numbers, and no illusions about love. So when her husband, Ethan, announces that he is pretending to be poor for a younger woman, Claire is less offended by the affair than by the insultingly low breakup fee he plans to offer.

Then the game turns expensive. The young woman knows more than Ethan thinks, and the elite attorney hired to tear apart Claire's finances is Adrian Shaw, the broke student Claire once deceived, desired, and abandoned with two million dollars. To survive the divorce, Claire must outplay a husband who wants devotion without sacrifice, face the man who once offered her everything he had, and decide whether money can still buy the only thing she actually regrets losing.

My husband, Ethan Cole, had found a young woman to play poor with. He shared her rented apartment, wore matching outfits bought on clearance, and hunted down takeout deals. He called it getting back to his roots.

We'd had even less when we started out. A leaking basement. Cheap noodles because delivery cost too much. Now that we were rich, he missed being broke.

"It's just for fun. We're not sleeping together," he told me. "When I get bored, I'll give her two hundred thousand dollars to move on. You won't have to deal with her."

I didn't cry. I didn't throw anything.

After a moment, I asked, "Two hundred thousand? Isn't that a little cheap?"

Years earlier, I'd played the same game with a broke young man.

When I left him, I'd paid two million.

Five years after the rejection that tore them apart, Lethia and Castiel cross paths again at a secluded medical facility.

Lethia is now a respected doctor, while Castiel is an Alpha known for enforcing peace in the rogue clan.

There, Castiel meets a little girl whose face mirrors Lethia's. But his heart shatters when he sees the man he knew pushing the child’s wheelchair.

Bound by buried secrets, old wounds, and unspoken truths, Lethia and Castiel must face a question: Was their bond truly broken or merely tested by fate?

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.

When I woke up in that hospital bed, legs wrapped in casts and burning like hell, everything came flooding back. This time, I wasn't the naive fool I'd been before.
Tyler, my brother Ryan, and that bitch Savannah—they destroyed me. Turned a gymnastics prodigy into a cripple.
Tyler had the nerve to grab my hand, begging me to forgive Savannah for ruining my legs. My brother chose outsiders over me, screaming about "family reputation."
Fuck their love. Fuck family.
This time around, I've got evidence of the $1.2 million they owe me. I know all their dirty secrets. Round two has started, and I'm done being their victim.
Those three bastards are going to pay back every damn cent they stole from me.

A man's luxurious watch slipped out of my wife's purse. Without batting an eye, she lied, "It's a gift for your dad." Looking at the youthful, trendy style and thinking of the remote-controlled toy that had mysteriously appeared in the nightstand, I felt nothing but utter disgust.
In the surveillance footage, the domineering homewrecker not only wore my clothes but also arrogantly taunted me.
And my own flesh and blood, the son I cherished more than my own eyes, had covered for them for a few hundred dollars of pocket money!
Since everything was rotten to the core, I wouldn't even want the son anymore.
Without a word, I accepted a tenured professor position overseas, decisively gave up custody, and promptly mailed the divorce papers and the adult toy to her company.
The mistress and the homewrecker's little celebration? Let them torment each other.
This time, I'm taking my life back.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I received a bouquet of red roses from my husband, Gabriel.

The problem was, I was severely allergic to roses — something I'd told him countless times.

"Same order number, two deliveries," the delivery man said casually, glancing at his clipboard.

My blood ran cold.

The man who'd claimed he had to work late — who couldn't even spare me a simple "Happy anniversary" — was at that very moment holding another woman in his arms. Nine hundred and ninety-nine roses. A designer handbag. Diamond jewelry. And on his face, a tender smile I hadn't seen once in five years of marriage.

For him, I had given up everything. I'd gone from being the pampered darling of the Rivers family to a wife crammed into a tiny apartment, comparing prices across three different grocery stores just to stretch every dollar. I'd filed down every sharp edge I had. Swallowed every last ounce of my pride.

And yet here he was — while I was still carrying his child — lavishing the very best of everything on someone else.

Gabriel, you dare betray me?

Then that CEO seat? Consider it gone.

A once-formidable heiress, dulled and diminished by love, was about to reclaim everything she'd lost. The masks were coming off.

And the reckoning was just beginning.

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!"

My water broke in the middle of my family’s tiny clinic.
Thirty-six weeks pregnant, breech baby, emergency C-section. I only had one request: not City Center Hospital.
Because the man I had been hiding from for eight months worked in a hospital.
I told myself there were hundreds of doctors in the city. It would not be him.
Then the operating room door opened.
My ex-boyfriend walked in wearing scrubs, looked at my chart, looked at my belly, and went completely still.
He was not just the man I had left.
He was the anesthesiologist about to put a needle in my spine.
And when our daughter was born wearing his exact face, there was no hiding left.

Three years ago, to quell a mafia feud and save my father's life, I married Alessio.

Over the past three years, the occasional scraps of tenderness he threw my way had slowly tricked me into falling in love.

Until the day I nearly bled to death giving birth to our twins—only for him to immediately hand them over to his true love. His adoptive sister, Bianca, had been left sterile after taking a bullet for him years ago.

In the end, the reality was clear. I was just a breeding vessel, kept around merely to bear children for the only woman he ever loved.

My dignity, my flesh and blood, and my ridiculous love were unapologetically trampled into the dirt.

And when the devastating news of my father's brutal murder followed, the very last trace of weakness in my heart disintegrated into ash.

As my younger sister drove her crystal blade into my chest, she screeched in mad laughter: "Why did you get to achieve fame and glory just because you chose Wisdom? If I could start over, I’d never choose Beauty!"
A blinding white light exploded before my eyes. We were both reborn, back in the Fate-Chamber.
This time, she shoved me aside and snatched the "Pact of Wisdom," tossing the "Pact of Charm"—the very power she so utterly despised—to me. She couldn't wait to see me turn into a useless, superficial airhead.
Inside the top-tier magic academy, armed with the enhanced memory and comprehension granted by her contract, she reveled in the spotlight and showered me with ruthless mockery.
What she didn't know was that the Pact of Wisdom never bestowed unearned miracles. Without discipline, the gifted talent would ultimately devour her. And the Pact of Charm she so thoroughly reviled was never meant for sycophancy—as long as I stayed clear-headed and true to myself, that power would become my impenetrable spiritual fortress.
In this life, I am still your worst nightmare.

The first thing I do with my second chance is sell off my perfect fiancé for ten million dollars.

The first time around, I became someone else for Julian Whitmore.

He likes nude-toned dresses. Hates when I wear anything with color. He won't let me have more than one glass of champagne in public. Won't let me laugh too loud. Won't let me initiate anything in bed.

His voice is always so calm, like he's correcting a disobedient pet.

I spend three years turning myself into what he wants: docile, proper, flawless. Until depression drags me under. Until that night I lay in the bathtub and watched the water turn red.

When I die, he's still downstairs in his study, editing my speech for tomorrow's charity gala.

When I open my eyes again, I'm sitting in the Winters' living room with that unsigned arrangement in front of me.

This time? Fuck perfect.

But when he lifts that veil at the wedding and realizes the bride isn't me, this man who's spent his whole life in control completely loses it.

On our one-year anniversary, my husband Julian gifted me an antique ring.
Putting it on cost me everything.
I miscarried, grew paralyzed, and rapidly withered into a husk. And Julian? He convinced everyone that the trauma had simply driven a grieving mother insane.
Eventually, even I believed him.
It wasn’t until the moment of my murder that the truth finally clicked.
The ring wasn't a blessing; it was a parasitic siphon.
Then, I opened my eyes—
I was back at the anniversary dinner.

On a rainy night, I lay in a pool of my own blood, barely alive.
My wife, Juliana, was kneeling beside a man named Sebastian. "Take my husband's blood! I will take full responsibility if anything happens!"
Drop by drop, my lifeblood was drained from me, flowing into the body of her first love.
After three days and nights of struggling in the ICU, I finally regained consciousness, only to hear her scornful words outside the door: "Sacrificing a mediocre researcher for the health of my Muse is a worthwhile trade."
So, the five years of tender affection, the specially prepared nutritional soups she brought me every night—it was all to squeeze the last drop of blood from me.
She thought I would remain in the dark like a loyal dog, letting her take whatever she wanted.
Too bad she didn't know that I had quietly poured out that "medicine" and called the Security Bureau.
It was time for the hunter and the prey to switch roles.

On my wedding anniversary, I died a brutal death, drained of every drop of blood by my husband’s socalled “sacred snow ferret”. That creature was Sylvia, his longdead true love striving for rebirth. For three long years, I was nothing more than a disposable blood vessel. Even my own son betrayed me for hollow, false affection.
Given a second chance at life, I cast aside all foolish mercy. I watched coldly as my hypocritical mage husband and traitorous son doted on the ferret, and documented every one of their heinous crimes.
I turned his longawaited reunion into a boneandflesh feast.
When the Templar tribunal finally arrived to pass judgment, I broke free from the cage of my old life and stepped out toward my own boundless freedom.

Three years ago, I devoted my family's entire fortune to rescue my husband from the mire of impending bankruptcy. I once believed this was a mutual journey of love, until that day revealed the chilling truth — I had merely been nurturing a self-consuming wolf.
The metallic scent of blood still hung in the air of the delivery room when he signed the document relinquishing life support, trading our newly born child for a flicker of hope for his beloved.
As I lay in a pool of blood, dialing his number, I could hear the heavy breaths of him and his mistress on the other end.
The explosion of the yacht cast flames upon the sea, and in that life-or-death moment, he unhesitatingly let go of my hand.
They all believed I had perished beneath the waves.
Very well.
Now, my wedding invitation lies within his reach.

I helped him claw his way up from nothing—from the family's bastard to king of the underworld.

I saved him when he got jumped in the streets. Took bullets for him when his father beat him half dead. We fought our way up from nothing, survived assassination attempts, built an empire that made people fear our name.

I thought we'd always stand together.

Until the day I nearly died giving birth, and all I found in the bassinet was a stack of cash.

I asked him where our baby was. He couldn't look me in the eye. His stepmother walked out holding my son. Smiled and said she deserved this, a child of her own, since she couldn't have one herself. He'd given my baby to another woman.

Turns out he'd been sleeping with her the whole time.

I threw the money in his face. I spent the next six years trying to get my son back.

Last week, when some small-time gang grabbed him, I went in alone with a gun. Bullets flew past my ears, kicked up concrete dust. I fought my way to the back and pulled him out. At the hospital, he pushed me away, crying, "Why'd you have to come?! We could've been a real family by now! Just leave! Leave me alone!"

I stared at his small face for a long time.

Finally, I said, "Call me mom one last time. Then I'll let you go."

A hundred years ago, old Duke Rowland saved me with a bowl of hot soup when I was dying. To repay him, I swore myself, as the Silver Wolf Goddess, to a hundred-year covenant protecting House Rowland.

I taught Garrett how to hold a sword. I turned Caleb into a prodigy at the Mages' Guild. I saved Preston's family from ruin.

But Lillian took a potion to fake being sick, and all it took was her claiming only my heart could save her to turn three men's knives on me.

In my last life, I begged them to listen, told them that cutting out my heart would tear down the foundation of House Rowland itself. They finally backed off.

Then Lillian, trying to keep the lie going, secretly upped her dose and poisoned herself to death in her own bed.

The three of them lost their minds and blamed me for her death.

"A beast doesn't get to call itself the guardian of House Rowland. Die."

They cut my heart out. I died on that altar.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they took my heart.

This time, I didn't waste my breath. I handed it over myself and let them have what they wanted.

The goddess's heart fell. The covenant ended.

They just didn't know yet how badly House Rowland would fall apart without me.

From a young age, I understood that my asthma was a shackle for my entire family. My parents took turns caring for me, their hearts gripped by the fear of any sign of respiratory distress. In their fervent concern for my health, they even compelled my sister, Sophie, freshly accepted into university, to postpone her studies and return home to assist in my care.
At Sophie's eighteenth birthday celebration, I lingered at the edge of the crowd, my chest constricted, and my throat felt as if it were ensnared by invisible hands. I gently tugged at my mother's sleeve, my voice barely a whisper: "Mom, I... can't breathe. I want to go back to my room..."
In an instant, my mother whirled around, her eyes ablaze with fury, as though she had awaited this moment of eruption. She seized my inhaler and hurled it into the farthest corner of the room.
"If it's this painful, then go die!" she shrieked, her words cutting like a knife. "Stop using your illness to hold us hostage!"
The inhaler tumbled to the floor, rolling away like a forgotten piece of trash. I stared at it blankly, a sudden laugh escaping my lips.
And then, I truly died. Yet, in the wake of my passing, those who once found me a burden descended into madness.

On our third wedding anniversary, a catastrophic car accident plunged me into a state of life-threatening hemorrhage. Yet, before the medical staff, my husband roared: "Draw my wife's blood first; save Serena."

Serena—his first love.

It became apparent that he had never married me out of love; I was but a living blood bank, intended solely to sustain his cherished first love. It was only when I discovered I was pregnant that I realized he would not even spare the life within me.

That incarceration, cloaked in the guise of love, had nearly claimed my life. When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer the Clara who could be so easily sacrificed. This time, I shall ensure he pays for his blood debt, with no chance of redemption.

I married into a wealthy family in place of my runaway sister, but my husband, Damian, refuses to touch me.

He refuses to dance with me in public, rejects my kiss, and even has my luggage dumped in the hotel lobby.

Believing he despises me, I pull off my wedding ring and prepare to leave.

But the moment my blood touches the blue diamond, I hear his thoughts:

“Leave. I want her too much. If she comes any closer, I really will hurt her.”

On my wedding day, my entire family received Iris’s desperate plea for help.
“Mom, Dad, Brother! I’ve been kidnapped, come save me, quick!”
Everyone panicked—including my fiancé, Theodore.
They interrupted the wedding ceremony to rush to Iris.
I begged them through tears not to go. I said it was a trick, something Iris had staged herself.
“The ceremony would have been over in ten more minutes. Can’t you just wait ten minutes?”
My parents called me a heartless, ungrateful wretch. My brother, Ron, pried my fingers from his tuxedo lapel.
“Chloe, stop being so selfish! Even if Iris isn’t your blood sister, how can you be so cruel?!”
“All you care about is your own wedding! Do you really want to see her die?!”
My fiancé looked at me with disappointment. “Let’s cancel the wedding for now.”
“I just realized… the one I care about more… is Iris.”
Watching their hurried figures disappear, I picked up a knife and locked myself in the bridal suite.

Did you slaughter your roommates?" the detective sneered. "No!" I screamed. The polygraph technician stared at the flawless readouts confirming I told the absolute truth. I was innocent. But if a human didn't tear those girls apart in our locked dorm... then what exactly is hunting me now?

On our third wedding anniversary, my husband Hill invited many friends over for a party at the house. Everyone was noisily playing games, and the challenge was to reveal a private secret about someone in the room.
When it was Elsa's turn, she pointed at Hill's lower body. "Hill has a crescent-shaped birthmark. It's in a very private spot."
After saying this, Elsa collapsed onto the sofa laughing. Hill pretended to be angry, jumped up, and pounced on Elsa, smacking her on the butt.
I was frozen in shock. Hill's birthmark really was extremely private—you couldn't even see it without looking closely. I only discovered it myself after being married to him for a year.
Sensing my emotional shift, everyone stopped their roughhousing.
Elsa shrugged nonchalantly. "Zoe, don't overthink it. Before you got married, someone slipped Hill something once. I had no choice but to help him out. But don't worry, I promise he saved his first time for you."
Then she tapped her lips. "I used this place back then. Wore me out, honestly."
I felt my stomach churn violently and nearly threw up. Without thinking, I hurled my wine glass directly at Elsa.
"Sorry. Slipped. Just trying to help you rinse your mouth."

My ex-husband found me selling hair clips at a flea market. Rosie was asleep in her stroller.
"Come home. She's too young for this."
I said yes.
After that, I stopped checking his phone.
Rosie stopped crying when the other girl took her toys.
He spent the night at Simone's—we didn't call.
We ran into them at the mall—we walked the other way.
We finally became what he always wanted. Easy. Quiet. No drama.
So why is he the one who can't sleep now?
"Why don't you get mad anymore?"
"Rosie, why won't you ask me to stay?"

On Halloween night, a sharp stench of chlorine and cheap booze woke me up.
I opened my eyes to a man grinning at the bedroom door.
It was my husband, David, soaking wet and showing off the liquor he’d vanished hours ago to buy.
I cursed him out, called him a liar, and demanded a divorce. He just kept that idiotic smile.
Then my phone rang. It was his best friend, Mark.
"Claire, David drowned drunk in the pool!"

Five years ago, my family burned to death in an "accident."

My loving husband Clifford signed the papers himself—shipped me off to a mental institution without a second thought.

Inside, Becky carved up my face with shattered glass. The same orphan I'd put through school. Then she rebuilt herself to match my features and stole my life—my husband, my son, everything.

Now she marched into the clinic where I scrub floors, dragging my biological child behind her, demanding I apologize to him like some servant.

She has no idea what kind of monster she created.

Five years ago, I stepped in front of a crossbow bolt for Lucian Vael, and he turned me into a vampire before I had the chance to say no.
He told me I was the first person he'd loved in six hundred years. He bought a castle and named it after me. He reserved a spot for me in his family's crypt so we'd lie there together when the time came—right beside his parents, in the inner ring where only blood and the most beloved go.
While I spent four years bleeding myself dry over ancient rites, trying to carry his child, he was across the city watching another woman do it on her first try. Using my research to get there.
He named one of the twins Soren. That was the name I'd chosen.
The night I found out, I was seven weeks pregnant.
I didn't tell him.
I called Mira and said: I need him to think I'm dead.

Everyone in town said I dumped my blind boyfriend because I couldn't stand being poor.
Five years later, I'd become a blind drifter myself, relying on handouts just to eat.
And he'd become one of Silicon Valley's hottest rising tech moguls.
He recognized me, but pretended he didn't.
He wanted me on my knees. Wanted me begging. Wanted me to pay for "abandoning" him.
Until he found out the person who gave up everything for him back then was no one else...
But me.

I'm a forensic audio specialist. I make a living digging up the truths people deliberately erase from static and noise.
My 19-year-old brother was accused of pushing a billionaire's bride to her death at her wedding.
The police presented their "smoking gun" recording. I heard exactly twelve seconds missing from it.
Those twelve seconds hold the truth about how the bride really died—and the billionaire family's dark secret that will get both me and my brother killed.
They smashed my equipment, threatened my life, bribed the cops, and tried to bury the truth forever.
But what they don't know is—
Some voices refuse to stay silent. Even when they're cut out.

I was rejected, but soon, I will marry a wheelchair-bound Rogue.
"Is this your fiancé?"
"Yes, he is my husband, Raymond Black," I introduced.
"How shameful, you are marrying this... uh, rogue, who has no clan, no fixed pack, and can't even protect you if attacked by other werewolves?"
I stood at the altar, with many people below, as if saying to me: you are such a fool!
Raymond said beside me, "Caitlin, if you want to back out, you still have a chance now, you can choose to run away."
I shook my head, "No... I won't run away, you will be my husband."
I saw a hint of surprise in his emerald, green eyes.

I was set up by my best friend to have sex with a strange man, my first MATE rejected me, an enemy weapon ran through my father's heart, pierced my mother's body. My best friend's family stripped me of my ALPHA status, and I became everyone's go-to OMEGA. Until that man came along, Rogue, and he saved me, but... I found that he seemed to hide a lot of secrets，wait, my second mate is alpha king?!

"If you want to get your needs met tonight, it will be with me and no other man. Am I clear?"

¢¢¢¢¢¢¢¢

Charlotte Hendry escaped Houston's gilded cage to chase freedom on her own terms, graduate school in New York, a secret life in New Orleans, and absolutely zero entanglements. Maverick Pierce built his empire from nothing, turning poverty and pain into a billion-dollar media dynasty. Neither of them planned for a collision that would shatter every rule they had carefully constructed.

When Maverick discovers Charlotte at his favorite private BDSM club, he faces an impossible choice: walk away or claim the one woman who challenges every part of him. Their connection burns fast and undeniable. But Charlotte's independence and Maverick's possessive nature could destroy what neither of them expected to find.

Can two people who were never looking for love actually build something real?

Seven years ago, betrayed by my closest friend and my fiancée, I was thrown into the lightless Black Sea Death Prison and tortured mercilessly.

Seven years later, I returned through a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, only to find my crippled little sister being trampled in the mud by my former "brother," forcing her to sign a humiliating organ extraction contract.

"A worthless ghost who just crawled out of death row—what makes you think you can fight a billionaire tycoon like me?"

At a grand banquet at the Peninsula Hotel, the treacherous couple threw a bloody dog bone at my feet. They mobilized hundreds of heavily armed SWAT officers to surround me, demanding I kneel, kowtow, and call them master.

They thought their wealth and power made them untouchable on the West Coast, assuming I was still the same spineless weakling from years ago.

That was until an EMP tore through the night sky. Three military stealth fighter jets hovered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and hundreds of laser sights from the nation's most classified special forces locked dead center on the foreheads of every elite in the room.

Under the horrified gazes of the city's high society, a four-star general crashed through the window and gave me the highest military salute:

"Tier Zero Task Force assembled! Supreme Commander, please give the order to purge!"

At that moment, the high-and-mighty tycoons finally remembered the terror of being dominated by the abyss.

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

Three years ago, I gave my grieving boss $6,000 for her husband’s funeral. The office called me a fool in love. She called me into her office—and fired me.
Then Claire appeared in my city with a suitcase, an apology, and an offer to start over.
I almost believed she had come back for me.
Until I overheard her whispering to a sick child about finding his real father.
Claire hadn’t returned alone. She had twins, one of them was dying, and the man who could save him might be me.

If a zombie opens its bloody maw at you — not to eat you, but to trade for a steak —

Do you take the deal?

I opened a wasteland exchange with a hundred thousand tons of frozen meat, priced everything with a barcode scanner, and used the Law of the Abyss as my guarantee.

When the mechanical army surrounded my cold storage, I hit the citywide broadcast:

"Big order, open to all — whoever tears apart the man on that heavy truck eats as much meat as they want."

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

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

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

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

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

Some rules are meant to keep us pure. These stories spread your legs and make you beg to break them.

Stepbrothers who shouldn’t touch you, but shove you against the wall and make you scream their name.

Protectors who swear to guard your body, only to break every oath as they fuck you into the mattress.

Strangers who taste like sin and don’t stop until you’re ruined.

Masked lovers who hide their faces while they spread you open and make you beg.

Even supernatural beasts who mark you, breed you, and take you raw until you’re theirs completely.

This isn’t sweet romance. It is raw heat that claws, bites, and devours.

Dangerous, possessive men you should run from, but instead, you’ll spread wider, sink deeper, and take every filthy drop they give you.

Every page is a dare: moan louder, take more, surrender deeper. Because once you give in to the forbidden, you won’t just fall, you’ll beg to be destroyed.

Welcome to your new addiction.

At thirty-five, I finally die— only to wake up as Isabella Montague, the stunning heroine of a fantasy novel I wrote as a stupid teen.

My plan? A world-class retirement involving heavy naps and bottomless snacks.

But the 'perfect' men I created are ruining the plan.

The brooding Northern Duke won't stop watching me. The Golden Prince is convinced my disinterest is actually a challenge. My knight—and best friend—is ready to burn the world down if I so much as yawn. And a certain Elven noble who swore off humans keeps finding excuses to be near my tea.

They want my heart. I just want my pillow.

Too bad the world is cursed, the Queen wants me dead, and everyone keeps trying to put me on a throne I never asked for.

Can't a girl just chill?