345 Book(s) Related to 5 little pigs agatha christie

I nearly died in the freezing ocean at my adopted sister Jane's birthday party.

When the yacht started tilting and alarms shrieked through the corridors, Dad grabbed Jane and bolted for the deck without looking back. Mom clutched Jane's ragdoll cat in her arms, following close behind under the bodyguards' protection.

They saved the cat.

But left their biological daughter to drown.

Three days later, I staggered home covered in wounds. The living room was decorated with scented candles and a three-tier birthday cake. Light piano music mingled with laughter—they were throwing Jane a makeup birthday party, celebrating how "the whole family" survived the disaster.

I hid my identity and spent five years married to Caelen—a man who claimed to be nothing but a wandering knight.

The day I found out I was pregnant, he showed up with his Black Obsidian Dragon Riders.

Turns out he commanded the Empire's most elite aerial legion.

Oh, and he was getting married. Just not to me.

"I'm marrying Victoria Ashford. The Cabinet Chancellor's daughter. We're equals in power and status, and... we've already slept together."

He promised to set me up with an estate, swore the child and I would never want for anything.

"So I'm supposed to hide in the shadows forever?"

Caelen wouldn't meet my eyes. "She'll make the perfect Commander's wife. Stay out of her way, and I can give you everything—except my name."

My throat burned. Five years of love, and this was all I meant to him.

What he didn't know: I'm Princess Seraphina Aurelian, Crown Princess of the Empire.

And there's no way in hell I'm becoming his dirty little secret.

Three years of chasing Chase Blackwood, and all I got was a front-row seat to him tonguing my "sister."

The old me would've cried. Begged. Made a scene.

The old me also ended up dead.

Funny how a second chance at life gives you clarity.

So here's what's different this time: I'm done being the pathetic ex. I'm done playing nice.

I'm throwing champagne in his face and climbing into bed with Asher Hayes—his best friend, his rival, his worst nightmare.

And Chase? He can rot.

Julian and I played house for five years—minus the actual marriage certificate. Because he bailed on me at the registry office twelve times. All for Mia, some intern.

First time: Mia screwed up her pitch.

Sixth time: Mia had the flu.

Twelfth time: Mia's ex showed up at our architecture firm throwing punches. Julian had to play knight in shining armor. I got knocked into a desk, cracked my head open—he didn't spare me a glance before whisking her off to the ER.

Before, I would've lost it. Screamed. Sobbed. Begged him to tell me who the hell he was actually planning to marry. And every single time, Julian would sigh and say, "Chloe, really? She's just an intern. Practically a child."

This time, all I said was: "Go ahead."

Then I turned around and took that job overseas.

When his thirteenth text came through—yet another registry office reschedule—I was already at the gate for my London flight.

This time? I'm choosing me.

Seven years ago, I crawled on my knees to save Alex Benedetti's ass, and got marked as the bitch who betrayed him.

Seven years later, he came back as New York's deadliest mob boss. Lucy Ferraro, some spoiled mafia princess, was warming his bed while I was on my hands and knees scrubbing his floors.

He let his fiancée treat me like garbage. When I started coughing up blood, the son of a bitch laughed and said I had it coming.

He didn't know the brain cancer was eating me alive.

The day I died, Alex was putting a ring on another woman's finger. He never found out that the girl who took bullets for him—the one he destroyed—was already rotting six feet under while he was saying "I do."

A year ago, my ex abandoned me when I was broke and buried in debt, choosing the Russo family heiress instead.

On the day of his engagement party, he sent me a vicious text: "Wear a wedding dress to Plaza Hotel. Changed my mind. You're marrying me."

I showed up in white.

Luca and his crew waited at the entrance, ready to watch me humiliate myself.

He thought this was my degradation.

But what he didn't know was—I was getting married.

Just not to him.

To Dante Valentino—the most dangerous man in this godforsaken city.

I hid in shadows for six years while my vampire husband played duke with his mistress.

Lucian kept our marriage secret, called our daughter "the half-blood bastard," and rushed to comfort Seraphina's twisted ankle while five-year-old Vanessa nearly died from silver poisoning.

His precious lover had "gifted" my child deadly perfume. While I held my convulsing daughter, he was cutting cake with his real family.

So I handed him divorce papers during his next dramatic rescue mission. Fool signed without reading—too busy playing hero to notice he just legally abandoned his wife and child.

Now the mighty vampire Duke burns under holy sunlight, chasing us to territories his undead flesh can't survive.

Begging on scorched pavement for a second chance he'll never get.

My sister Chiara and I had fought over Matteo for more than a decade.

In my first life, I got my wish and married him. Everyone said he adored me, trusting me to manage the entire Salvatore family's books and money laundering operations. I worked myself to death, literally dying from exhaustion. On my deathbed, he coldly told me the truth: "I never loved you. You're the one who begged to marry me."

In my second life, I let Chiara have her chance. She bore him four children in five years, trying desperately to earn his love, only to die in childbirth. I rushed to her bedside for her final moments, and she cried out to me: "Matteo doesn't love me either... there's another woman in his heart..."

When I opened my eyes again, it was my third life.

This time, we would NOT make the same mistakes.

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.

Three years barren, and Jessamine walked on thin ice in the elite household. Her mother-in-law spat venomous curses daily, calling her a "worthless waste of space" and threatening to force her son into divorce.

She could still remember when Damien had severed all ties with his family to marry her—kneeling outside their door in the pouring rain, begging his parents to accept her: "Jessamine is my one true love! I can't survive without her!" Back then, she was the only woman who existed in his eyes.

But now, for the sake of family inheritance, he had the audacity to demand her consent for his childhood sweetheart Celeste to bear their child. Jessamine endured the soul-crushing agony of watching her husband entwined with another woman, night after torturous night.

Even more devastating—after Celeste delivered a daughter, Damien had the shameless nerve to declare: "The family still needs a male heir."

In that shattering moment, Jessamine finally saw the brutal truth.

Three years ago, my best friend Juliana Pierce was raped and jumped from a twelve-story building. I was there. I saw everything. I know exactly who did it.

Alexander Knight—Juliana's boyfriend, brilliant scientist, the man I've secretly loved for seven years—has spent every moment since hunting for answers. He believes I'm shielding a predator. He's dedicated his life to making mine hell.

Now I'm dying of ALS, and Alexander's dragged my broken body onto his "Memory Judgment Stage" for the world to see. His new technology can rip memories straight from my brain and broadcast them as holograms.

"Tell them who killed Juliana," he shouted.

I refuse. So he cranks up the machine, letting the neural probes tear through my dying brain. My hand shatters. My body convulses. But I won't break.

Until the memories start bleeding out anyway.

And when Alexander sees the rapist's face—Completely loses his mind.

My best friend murdered me.

Before the team tryouts, Mia handed me a pink energy drink. I didn't know it was laced with sleeping pills.

Thirty feet in the air. Top of the pyramid. My body went limp, collapsing like a puppet with cut strings.

I can still hear my bones shattering.

Mia threw herself into my fiancé Carter's arms, sobbing: "Oh God, I grabbed the wrong bottle! The vitamins and sleeping pills got mixed up! Vic will forgive me, right?"

Carter held her tight, not even glancing at me lying in a pool of blood. "Stop crying. It was just an accident."

An accident? My spine snapped in three places.

He lied to the police, saying I was under too much stress and took the pills myself. Packaged my death as the suicide of someone who couldn't handle the pressure.

When I died, the whole school treated me like a joke.

But now I'd opened my eyes. I was back on that day.

He hung up on me while the killer's knife plunged into my body.

Seventeen seconds. That was our final call after seven years of marriage.

He was at the hospital with my "depressed" stepsister, convinced I was just being dramatic again. He didn't even let me finish.

I died that rainy night, taking a secret with me he'll never know.

Three days later, my husband—the city's chief medical examiner—caught a brutal case: female victim, face destroyed by acid.

He worked the autopsy with his usual precision. Methodical. Clinical. Until the facial reconstruction software completed its rendering.

When he recognized my face on that screen, blood exploded from his mouth.

He hit the floor hard.

On my due date, my husband Matteo locked me in an underground freezer at minus ten degrees.

The Torrino family's unbreakable rule: the first-born male inherits the entire mafia empire. My sister-in-law Jennifer and I were both pregnant, our due dates only one day apart. To ensure his brother's child was born first, Matteo made this insane decision.

"My brother and Jennifer's baby has to come first—this is what you owe them!" He ignored my desperate pleas and violent contractions, coldly shoving me into the freezer.

But that wasn't enough. They forcibly injected me with labor-delaying drugs. I curled up in agony on the freezing concrete floor, feeling my baby slowly slipping away, tears of despair streaming down my face.

My baby, Mommy is so sorry...

I married Massimo Salvatore, the mafia don, thirty-two times. And divorced him thirty-two times.

Every single time for the same reason—his precious Claudia came back from her overseas treatment facility.

"She took a bullet to the head for me. Any stress could kill her." That was his only explanation.

The first divorce, I trashed the entire living room. He slapped me across the face: "Cut the DRAMA. We'll get back together once she's stable."

The third time, I followed them to the club and caught them kissing. I confronted him—got locked in the basement for seven days.

Sign the papers, take off the ring, pack my bags. Like a nightmare on repeat.

Until the thirty-third time.

A rival family grabbed both me and Claudia. With a gun to his head, he could only save one of us. I looked at him, voice breaking: "Massimo, just this once, pick me."

He walked toward her.

Four hours later, his men found me in some abandoned warehouse. Three broken ribs, blood everywhere. Our baby—gone.

Massimo camped out by Claudia's hospital bed, wouldn't leave her side. Didn't visit me once. Not even when I got discharged.

That's when I was done.

Everyone in the Blood Moon Pack knew that our Alpha, Ethan Black, was devoted to his Luna, Elena Mourn.

Until he met his fated mate, Celine.

He wanted to sever our bond to be with her, but I refused. We became the pack's toxic couple—he resented me for not letting go, and I despised him for his betrayal.

To get rid of me without looking like the villain, this asshole staged a pity party—claiming a dark witch cursed him in battle, trapping his memories at eighteen, and now his wolf only responded to Celine as his "true mate."

"Elena, I'm stuck at eighteen... I still love you, but our bond is gone." His voice broke. "I'm so sorry for hurting you all these years. Maybe we're both better off apart."

Watching his fake performance, I said yes.

He thought he'd won, never knowing I went along because three years ago, I took a hunter's wolfsbane bullet meant for him. The poison had been killing me ever since. One week—that's all I had left.

Before I died, I wanted one last look at his eighteen-year-old self, even knowing it was all fake.

In my past life, my childhood friend—the star quarterback—threw away his Ivy League scholarship for some hood rat, even getting mixed up in drug deals. When I tried to pull him out of the gutter, I got shanked by gang members on a cold, rainy night.

Yet there he was at the police station, holding that trashy girl tight, telling the cops: "Emma had it coming. Always butting in, trying to run my life."

Second time around, I'm back to the day he begged me to cover for him with coach so he could take that girl to get an abortion.

I looked into his desperate eyes and gave him my sweetest smile, taking the fake sick note: "Don't worry, I've got you covered."

I died for you last time. Your turn now.

On our wedding day, Declan sent me out to Long Island. We'd been together seven years.

He said he'd left his grandmother's lucky cufflinks at the family house.

But when my car died in the storm, I opened my bridesmaid's Instagram live.

Declan was sliding my custom diamond ring onto Phoebe's finger—my adopted sister, the one with the bad heart.

My own parents were crying in the front row. My bridesmaids were cheering.

They'd turned my wedding into a dying wish ceremony for Phoebe.

Hours later, alone in the ER, I called forty-seven times.

No one picked up.

Not until after I lost the baby and disappeared from Manhattan.

That's when Declan finally came apart.

Curfew night. Storm-black sky. My werewolf husband racing his red fox mistress through the no-fly zone like it's a goddamn game.

Ivy's wasted, craving adrenaline. She banks hard into my son's flight path.

Impact. Explosion. Metal rain.

Silas cradles his sobbing side piece while my boy's helicopter spirals into hell:

"Easy, sweetheart. You're breathing, that's what counts. Little punk got himself killed being stupid—not our problem."

Hours later, after they've hosed the wreckage off the runway:

"Roxanne? Your mother and son are ash. Come identify the remains."

I'm ready to burn the world down when my phone lights up:

Mom! Me and Grandma are at the underground fights. Holy shit, what exploded out there? Some poor bastard just got roasted!

They never flew.

So whose charred corpses are cooling in the morgue?

My reward for my father dying for the Alpha? A guaranteed forced bond with one of his two sons.

I chose the golden child, Ronan—and paid for it with my life.

Reborn on the day of the ceremony, I didn't hesitate. I pointed straight at Darius, the terrifying outcast brother everyone warned me about.

To hell with Ronan and his fairy tales.

But there's one sick twist I didn't see coming: Ronan remembers our first life, too.

And this time, he's the one who's going to beg.

"We promised each other ten PM calls every single night, no matter what was happening in our lives."

That promise used to mean everything to Eric, until it became nothing but busy tones and angry hang-ups while some other woman's perfume lingered on his shirts. The signs were all there, but I kept dialing anyway.

On cancer diagnosis day, I called him nine times and watched each call go straight to voicemail. When he finally answered the tenth, Stella was giggling in the background and all he said was, "Wren, seriously, stop being such a pain in the ass."

I choked down my bloody pills, stared at my engagement ring, and felt the strangest thing—absolutely nothing. The pain had just vanished.

I dropped the ring next to the signed papers and disappeared from his world.

Ryan Aldridge had one rule: he showed up for whoever needed him most.

The problem was, it was never me.

Throat swelling shut in the ER? He was unclogging Sloane Harrington's drain. Anniversary dinner? He left between courses because Sloane was "spiraling."

I forgave it every time. I was the cool girl. The understanding fiancée.

Then my studio caught fire, and a beam came down on my chest.

I lay there—bleeding, pinned, choking on smoke—and watched Ryan vault over me to carry out a woman with a sprained ankle.

"Jocelyn, come on. You can handle this. Look at her—she's shaking."

Something in me went still. Not broken. Finished.

I twisted off the ring with blood-slick fingers and let it disappear into the ash.

Then I disappeared too.

"Arthur, I want a divorce."

My husband was busy draping his suit jacket over Chloe's shoulders, his precious childhood sweetheart. He didn't even turn around, just let out a cold laugh.

"Oh, Evelyn. Playing the sick father card again? That trick's getting old." His voice was dismissive. "I moved your dad out of that private room to teach you a lesson. Maybe now you'll learn some manners around Chloe."

He was so certain I'd come crawling back like I had for three years, begging him to pay for Dad's treatment. So sure I'd be sobbing apologies by tomorrow morning.

What Arthur didn't know was that three hours ago, they'd wheeled my father's body into the cold hospital morgue.

And the divorce papers in my purse were already signed. I didn't need his money anymore.

Five years ago, my ex-boyfriend Jason said coldly when he abandoned me: "Charlotte, you're not worthy of my dreams."

Five years later, when I saw him again, he had become Floreton's tech mogul while I remained a simple sculptor. His new fiancée—a wealthy heiress—sneered at my modest attire: "Someone like you can actually afford to book a top-tier wedding venue?"

She stole my venue, crushed my fingers, and forced me to kneel and apologize: "Say you don't belong here!"

Jason stood by watching coldly, just as indifferent as he was on that rainy night five years ago.

I desperately thought this was my fate, until that familiar, furious voice echoed throughout the entire venue:

"What bastard touched my woman!"

My Bradley had arrived.

This time, I would be the one laughing last.

My husband stole credit for my work, gave it to his girlfriend, and waited for me to say thank you.

He assumed I'd never leave, so he missed me selling our apartment, cutting off his money, and meeting with divorce lawyers.

When he graciously offered me a second chance, I just smiled: "Thanks, but we're already divorced."

They left me to freeze to death in our basement freezer.

The night before prom, my foster sister Leila came crying that I'd burned her Ivy League recommendation letter. My birth parents didn't even listen to one word of explanation—they threw me into that frozen hell in forty-five below.

I beat on that door until my fingers were shredded, screamed until my throat tore apart, but all I could hear from upstairs was their laughter celebrating Leila. Even Justin—the boy I'd loved since we were kids—texted calling me a fucking psycho.

As I drew my last breath, I heard Leila's soft voice outside the door: "Rest in peace, sister."

Now I'm a ghost, watching them lose their minds when the truth comes out.

They left me to die in a burning lab while saving my faker sister. Big mistake.

I hadn't slept in six months, perfecting the neural serum that would save Mom's life. One vial. One chance. Then my adopted sister Mia grabbed it and smashed it on the floor, sobbing about how cruel I was to a "disabled" person.

Mom and Dad ate it up. My fiancé Ryan nodded along—probably because he was banging Mia every chance he got. When fire trapped me in the lab, they carried out "paralyzed" Mia and left me hammering on reinforced glass, choking on smoke.

Want to know the best part? That manipulative snake hopped out of her wheelchair and sprinted to safety the second she thought no one was looking.

Second chance at life? Hell yes.

I'm watching Mia lift that test tube again, ready to destroy everything. But instead of lunging forward like last time, I lean back in my chair.

"Smash away," I say with a shrug. "I'm not the one who'll suffer."

Let's see how this plays out when I'm not the naive fool.

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.

Ninety-nine times.

I was sent to the punishment chamber ninety-nine times by my mafia don fiancé.

Each time, he watched through bulletproof glass with cold, detached eyes—watching me being deprived of sleep, injected with drugs, tortured until I was barely clinging to life.

"Elara, you're paying for what you did to the Mancuso family."

For the sake of sweet, innocent Yvette—his precious savior—he personally destroyed everything I had.

After the ninety-ninth time, the doctor handed me a critical condition notice. I stopped begging, signed the confession, and vanished completely with my broken body.

The result? When the truth finally came to light, the ruthless don went completely insane.

My parents and twin sister faked their own deaths so she could steal my college acceptance.

I believed it. Sobbed until I couldn't breathe when the cops showed me photos of the burnt yacht. Thought my words—"I hope you all die"—had somehow made it happen.

Two weeks later, I found my sister's backup Instagram: "Finally ditched the boring sister! Bahamas is paradise 🏖"

Something inside me snapped.

Wanna play dead? Stay dead.

I took their death certificates. Canceled their social security numbers. Drained every joint account—every last cent. Sold the house to John, the kind of guy even cops don't mess with.

One month later, they came home tanned and loaded with designer bags, expecting to find me broken on the streets.

What greeted them instead were cold gun barrels pointed at their heads.

"I, Owen Greystone, reject you, Ember Frost, as my future Luna and mate."
"Accept your rejection, you worthless human—and get lost."
Wolfless. Powerless. Unwanted.
Ember Frost had always known her place in the Moonshine Pack—at the very bottom. Taken in after being found in the woods as a child, she survived only through the love of her adoptive family.
On her twentieth birthday, everything should have changed. Owen Greystone, the future Alpha, turned out to be her fated mate—a bond meant to elevate her from insignificance.
But instead of acceptance, Ember received the ultimate humiliation. Before the entire pack, Owen rejected her with cruel contempt, crushing whatever fragile hope she had left.
Broken and desperate, Ember leapt from a cliff, believing her story had ended.
But fate wasn't done with her.
Rescued on the brink of death, Ember awakens to a truth that rewrites her entire existence: she is the long-lost daughter of the Lycan King, heir to the most powerful bloodline in the realm.
No longer the wolfless girl mocked by her pack, Ember begins her rebirth—training, rising, and claiming the strength that was always hers by birthright. And as she steps into her role as princess and future queen, she discovers a new kind of love—one she chooses for herself, not one dictated by destiny.
When Owen learns who she truly is, regret consumes him. Now he wants her back.
But Ember's heart belongs to someone else—and she is no longer the girl he once destroyed.
Owen will stop at nothing to reclaim her.
Ember will stop at nothing to protect her new world—even if it means facing the man who turned her life into ashes.
Because this time, Ember isn't the one who needs to "get lost."
This time, she's the one calling the shots.

Amelia Walter was living her dream life with her husband until the police arrested him for being a drug lord. Confused and heartbroken, she tries to forget about him and start afresh. However, her husband’s debts and threats from an unknown criminal rival make her life a living hell.
She had lost all hope when suddenly, a golden opportunity knocked at her door. Her employer, Mrs. Montgomery, has an interesting new job for her, which includes a handsome billionaire.
“My nephew is the most charming man and the most eligible bachelor in town, but he is very sick and in need of a constant companion,” said Mrs. Montgomery to her one night. “You must take care of him, and his parents will pay you generously.”
“What’s the catch?” I ask her, finding it all too good to be true.
“They want you to make him fall in love with you and give them an heir before it’s too late. Money will rain on you if you succeed. My nephew, however, is not an easy one. You’ll know once you meet him.”
Will Amelia find a way out of her ex-husband’s mess and into the billionaire's heart?

For three years, Amber Hargrove had been trying to please her ex-husband and his family, only to have him beat her for his mistress. At that moment, she finally understood that this man would never love her.

So, she decisively divorced him and returned home to inherit his fortune.

Yes, she was worth millions.

She accepted her family's arrangement and married a wealthy man; after all, it was just a marriage of convenience, and she would never love anyone again.

But a year later, she texted the wealthy man to file for divorce. The butler immediately rushed in, flustered:

"Madam, the master has fainted again. The doctor instructed me not to mention sensitive topics like the stock market crash, the company's shrinking net worth, or divorce."

Huh? She couldn't even mention divorce? What was he trying to do?

The beeping sound of the EKG flatlined, and the doctor whispered the words that killed my soul: ‘Your pup didn't make it.’

My baby was dead. Pushed down a flight of stairs by the Luna Queen, and the man who fathered my child didn't even care. Alpha Fredrick, the man I thought I could love, just wrapped his arms around my empty stomach and whispered, “My sweet breeder, hurry up with that baby thing. I really miss our nights together.” He didn't ask if I was okay. He just wanted my body.

What hurt the most wasn't just losing my pup, it was that I was too weak to protect him. I was just a worthless Omega, a secret breeder hidden in the shadows. But not anymore. I refused to be a pin cushion for his Luna's jealousy.

At midnight, I staggered down the grass-covered path, my bare feet sinking into the dirt. The heavy stench of gasoline filled my nostrils as I poured it all over the beautiful city palace that was my nightmare. I lit my cigar, took a puff, and dropped it on the grass.

Like a flood, the fire raged towards the palace. Alarms buzzed, wolves screamed. I shut my eyes, ready to burn with them, whispering to the moon, “My baby, I'm going to reunite with you soon.”

But I didn't die. The flames enveloped me, tearing my skin apart, until a sudden rush of wind swept me off my feet. A mysterious man draped in white materialized from the ashes, his voice echoing in my head: ‘Hold on. I will get my body soon, and I will come for you.’ When I finally opened my eyes, I wasn't in hell. I was in the Lycan Kingdom, and my burned body was flawlessly healed. But my vengeance? It was just beginning.

Do you have the guts to sleep with a sex spirit?
They say that they will give you protection and much more and the only thing they need in return is sex with a young beautiful woman.
Cassie Black is an ordinary girl who could never think of entering such an arrangement, but when horrors from her family's past threaten her life and the lives of her loved ones, she needs protection to discover the truth and make things right.
The pleasures of sleeping with an incubus are addicting and otherworldly until she discovers her night visitor has a personality that revolves around more than only sex. Will she be able to remove the threat in her life? Or has she only created another problem by getting a secret night lover?

Do you have the guts to sleep with a sex spirit?
They say that they will give you protection and much more and the only thing they need in return is sex with a young beautiful woman.
Cassie Black is an ordinary girl who could never think of entering such an arrangement, but when horrors from her family's past threaten her life and the lives of her loved ones, she needs protection to discover the truth and make things right.
The pleasures of sleeping with an incubus are addicting and otherworldly until she discovers her night visitor has a personality that revolves around more than only sex. Will she be able to remove the threat in her life? Or has she only created another problem by getting a secret night lover?

I was reborn, and so was my husband. But he chose his true love as his wife...

The cold blade carved into my cheek, bringing a piercing pain.

"Don't blame me, Emma," my adoptive sister Sophia giggled, her voice like sweet poison. "If your face is ruined, Gregory will only look at me."

On my wedding day, my fiancé abandoned me at the altar for her. My biological family had always loved her, the fake daughter, more than me. Now, she had me kidnapped, my hands crippled, and my face destroyed.

"I'm selling you to the black market," she sneered as they nailed my wooden crate shut. "In this lifetime, you're not even worth my toe."

My world went pitch black.

But I didn't die. Surviving the underground auction and enduring agonizing surgeries, I shed my old skin and my old name.

Three years later, I returned as Emily, a billionaire CEO, arm-in-arm with Gregory's powerful uncle. Seeing my ex-fiancé and my vicious sister tremble before me, I smiled. The nightmare you gave me? I’m going to make you pay it all back, tenfold.

The whip slashed across my flesh, the burning pain spreading through my entire body. Blood stained the carpet, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my shattered heart.

"I saw it with my own eyes. You still want to make excuses?" Ethan, my husband of three years, looked down at me with pure disgust.

Because his precious first love, Emily, faked a fall down the stairs, he didn't hesitate to torture me. For three years, I swallowed my pride, cared for him, and endured his family's mockery, hoping to melt his frozen heart. But to him, I was just a calculating woman who schemed her way into his bed.

Watching him gently wipe her tears while treating me like trash, my naive hopes finally died.

"Let's get divorced," I said, tossing the signed papers at him.

He sneered, thinking I was just playing hard to get. He thought I would always be his obedient, pathetic trophy wife.

But he was wrong. This time, I’m walking away to build my own empire. And when he finally realizes the truth, I won't be there to pick up the pieces.

The cold scalpel pierced my chest without anesthesia.

"Elizabeth, Sophia's heart is failing. You love me so much, won't you give her your heart?" My husband, Daniel, smiled gently as he cut me open alive.

In my last moments, I realized his years of devotion were a lie. I was nothing but a walking organ bank for his precious adopted sister. For him, I had driven away Matthew—the only man who truly loved me, the man who went mad avenging my death.

I died in excruciating agony and endless regret.

Then, I opened my eyes. I was back in the dressing room on my wedding day.

Daniel stood before me in his white suit, holding a bouquet, playing the perfect groom.

"Elizabeth, are you ready?" he asked affectionately.

This time, I didn't smile back. Instead, I grabbed a fruit knife and plunged it toward his chest.

The blind, naive girl is dead. In this life, I will tear off your hypocritical mask, make you pay in blood, and give my whole life to the man I once pushed away!

My husband cut out my heart with his own hands to save his "true love"—my evil sister. He thought I was gone forever, my body hidden inside a cold statue in his garden.

But fate gave me a second chance. I woke up in the body of a young woman arranged to marry his powerful, disabled uncle.

Now, I’ve returned as his aunt-in-law. Watching him go mad with grief after discovering my corpse brings me no pity, only the thrill of the hunt. I will use my new identity—and my dangerous new husband—to drag them both to hell. The game of revenge has just begun.

Dear readers, I'd like to recommend another novel of the same genre: Wedding Night, He Called My Sister’s Name

For five years, I was Sebastian's mistress.
In the end, he chose to publicly marry my own sister.
He coldly told me: "Get out!"
I no longer held onto this relationship and met new, exceptional men.
When I was dating another man, Sebastian became crazy with jealousy.
He pinned me against the wall, crushed his lips to mine, and took me with a fierce, brutal urgency.​​
Right before my climax, he stopped.
'Break up with him, baby, " he breathed, his voice hoarse and tempting, 'and I'll let you come."

I was reborn one year before my husband fell in love with another woman. This time, I successfully took her place and became the idealized figure, the one admired and longed for by my husband and her other suitors.

The peaceful and tranquil town of Bermington has recently experienced a horrific murder case. Charles Jones, a full-time writer, allegedly broke into the home of Lawrence, an engineer, and brutally killed the family of three.
Police immediately arrested him, but after several interrogations, officers learned a shocking secret: the real killer wasn't him, but rather some kind of entity that shared his exact appearance, build, and even his name and DNA...

I dragged Theodore out of the car seconds before it exploded. Ever since that day, my fingers have never been the same—a permanent injury I'll carry for life.
Three years into our marriage, Scarlett came back. His foster sister. The one he'd secretly loved all along.
He indulged her every whim. Let her wear my wedding ring. Move into our marital home. Even kiss him in public.
Everyone mocked me—said I was clinging to the title of "wife" and refused to let go. Scarlett told me to my face to get out.
That day, Theodore abandoned me on the highway.
That was when I finally gave up on him completely.
I left the divorce papers behind and vanished.
Theodore found the journal I'd left. He went crazy searching for me all over the world. When he finally found me, he dropped to his knees, eyes red with desperation.
"Don't leave. You're the one I've always loved."
I smiled and took my new boyfriend's hand.
"Too bad. I don't love you anymore."

Book1 (Chapter 1~188, completed):
“Please...come back to me, be my Luna again, Charlotte,” Hayden said.
I sneered. “You don't even qualify to be my Omega. What makes you think I would want to be your Luna?”
“Then let me be your slave,” the shameless mate who had rejected me begged.

I had been claimed and married to my mate, Hayden for three years, but everything changed when his brother died. He began to ignore me and get closer to his brother’s widow, Sofia.
Everyone could see how much he favored Sofia over his own mate, me.
I turned a blind eye and endured it all because he was my destined mate and I loved him so much.
But Sofia framed me for causing her miscarriage and everyone blamed me for it, not to mention my mate.
My mate forced me to kneel and apologize to that bitch who had tried many times to drive wedges between me and my mate, with the help of his sister, Milla.
Hayden didn't even want to listen to my explanations. He gave me a choice - apologize or divorce.
I would never apologize for something I didn't do and thus I chose divorce.
No one knew I was actually the next-Alpha-in-line of one of the most powerful packs. After the divorce, I went back to my pack and take over my birthright - becoming a powerful Alpha and showing Hayden that he was nothing to me and my life was better off without him!


Book2( From chapter 189~287, completed):
As the Alpha princess, I enjoy all the glory and wealth, but my heart only yearns for freedom and love.
Much to my luck, I found my fated mate, Alpha Shawn Evander when I was nineteen.
He is one the most eligible bachelors currently, but my parents, especially Dad is so against our mateship, he keeps urging me to break up with Shawn.
Why should I break up with my fated mate? I love him too much and decided to make a bold choice - to marry him during my twentieth birthday party secretly.
So, it should be a happy day, right?
Nope.
Imagine my shock when I saw my bestie and Shawn together, betraying me during what was supposed to be our wedding day!
In the end, I didn’t get married to him and went to a bar to drown my sorrow when I stumbled across an Alpha who needed a mate to break his curse, and we decided to have a contract marriage between us.
But when I went home and sobered up, I realized who that Alpha was - Alpha Maximillian Vestvertine, also known as the most ruthless and arrogant Alpha of all.
However, I never ezxpect that this coldest Alpha would be so eagar to have me....

[WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT MATURE CONTENTS!!!]
“Princess, I love you. With all my heart. With all my life. More than life itself. I’m so glad that I found you. Remember princess, I love you.. till my last dying breath, till the day I die.” – Rai.
“That’s right, baby girl. You. Are. Mine! Ever since the day you were born, you are mine! God created you for me and no one else! Remember that, baby girl.” – Damian.
Meet Katarina, a cheerful, free-spirited woman with a dark past, whose fate brought her to two best friends - Damian, the charming, easy-going one, and Rai, the calm, gentle one. Her prince charming and her knight in shining armor, each with secrets of their own. Different yet similar in their own way, best friends nonetheless. Both loving her, both wanting her.
Would she be able to choose between the two of them? Who would be her greatest love and who would be her worst heartbreak? Would any of them be her always? Her forever?
What would happen when their demons started to haunt them again? Could she be the strength of someone else despite all her traumas? Could their love survive those many obstacles and tragedies? Could love really conquer all? Would they finally be able to have their ‘happily ever after’? Find it out in this dark-twisted love-triangle story between a fragile girl and the two inseparable best friends.

"They say marriage is a big gamble, and I bet on the wrong man."


Victoria Solace was a once beloved Alpha daughter of the Palemane Claws Pack and an heiress to a renowned perfume empire. After her dad died, she married her long-time crush, Elijah Arison, making him a powerful Alpha instead of being it herself.
She thought everything she had given was enough to keep a happy marriage, yet only to get a cruel betrayal.
Being framed to harm his mistress' unborn pup, she was imprisoned in the dungeon. Elijah stomped on all her pride and still tried to suck the last of her worth out of her.
In her darkest hell, she contacted a man who she once thought she'd never cross paths with again. Damien Verlice, Alpha of the Infernal Shadows Pack.
Dealings with the devil always come with a price. But this time, Victoria swore to learn her lesson. She'd keep her heart and be the ultimate winner.


My back bowed so high from the bed, and all my muscles were taut. I was too scared to move even a muscle as it would set off my orgasm.
“Who’s fcking you, V?” he banged me hard as he looked at me with his burning gaze.
“You. Damien," my voice was hoarse and I knew he wouldn't let me high if I couldn't answer right. "Fck me, Damian. I'm yours.”
Cover by @Rainygraphic

"Listen to me! As much as I don't want to touch you and vice-versa, I'm the only one who can help in ending your suffering RIGHT now!" he said as one of his hands slipped into my shirt, and I moaned as he cupped one of my breasts.

I had the most perfect life of a she-wolf. My dad, the Alpha of the Black Heart Pack doted on me so much despite me being wolfless. I was loved and respected in the pack under his protection.

But everything changed on my 18th birthday. I was accused of being a traitor and banished from the pack. Left with nothing, I was nearly raped and killed until the Alpha and Beta of the Crimson Blood Pack saved me.

There was always something about Beta Kyson that drew me to him. It turned out he was my mate!

Cover art by @rainygraphic

He is Milan, always have been in love, secretly with his best friend Eron. Who is actually his stepbrother after his dad get marry with a widow woman who had a child of 19 years old... Eron. But everythin will change one day when suddenly Milan discovers He is available to create a new reality, other world in his dreams, that actually is a portal to a totally real reality, where He and Eron can be together, and their love is the most natural, as breathing.¨


"Family is the most important thing, Eron."
I'm sick of hearing that phrase every day without qualm.
They force to include me in the standard picture where the only thing that matters is the happiness of others; the happiness of those around you. It is typical to think that you should care about those who, according to the rules of modern society, love you the most. But does owning the same blood connection make the affective connection between people? I want to know if I am the only one who is wrong.
I don't feel that warmth in my chest that I'm supposed to feel.

"You only think of yourself, Eron."
I can hear the annoying Milan Montjoy's voice even in my quiet solitude. People label him as my "brother" as we are children of the same parents, or actually, one of them, but we are not. Thus we are intertwined.