3915 Book(s) Related to my reincarnation as a chicken novel

My boyfriend Jams was poor, but he insisted on spoiling his Golden Retriever.
The dog ate premium raw meat; we ate expired discount bento boxes.
The dog slept in a custom climate-controlled kennel; we squeezed into a leaky trailer.
James always said, "Max is our baby, we can't let him suffer."
To make ends meet, I took a second job waitressing at an exclusive country club.
Only to see James sitting there in a bespoke suit, a stunning woman leaning on his shoulder.
Olivia Sterling. New York old money, James's childhood family friend, and the woman rumored to be his arranged fiancé.
A $10,000 bottle of Burgundy sat on the table as he casually fed A5 Wagyu to Max.
"Honestly, James," Olivia giggled, twirling her diamond necklace. "The dog gets better treatment than your dates."
"Don't be jealous," he smirked, handing her a black Amex. "Buy whatever makes you happy."
Looking at my faded uniform and my dish-water-ruined hands, the cruel joke finally clicked.
He wasn't poor. He was just testing me.
In his eyes, his pet deserved royalty, while I deserved to scrub floors.
So, I dropped my serving tray and walked away forever.

Here is the English translation, tailored to match the gritty, dramatic, and satisfying tone typical of apocalyptic revenge web novels:

In my previous life, I was drained to the bone by the so-called "Doomsday Evolution System," forced to watch as my best friend and fiancée stepped over my corpse to scavenge my supplies.

When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to exactly three days before the apocalypse. When that faint blue, glowing "cheat" materialized once more, I decisively took a step back, watching my enemies fanatically claim it for themselves. They thought they had grasped the key to ruling the doomsday. Little did they know, they had just swallowed a parasite that would devour its host.

Then, the extreme cold descended, and toxic spores blotted out the sky.

Using my knowledge of the future, I struck a deal with a female black-market boss, packing an underground bunker with tons of supplies and heavy firepower. Sipping hot coffee in front of the control room monitors, I sat back and enjoyed the show. I watched my enemies be systematically stripped of their sanity, sacrifice their companions, and ultimately degenerate into mindless, mutated lumps of flesh driven only by base instincts.

In this man-eating apocalypse, I refuse to touch any bizarre parasitic "gifts." Thick alloy doors and an endless supply of ammunition—that is the only true law of survival in the wasteland.

For half a box of rations, my former comrade put a bullet in my back. As I gasped my last, the world reset—three days before the apocalypse. I didn't go after him for revenge. I floored the accelerator, racing toward the Texas borderlands where my grandfather—a Vietnam veteran—had spent forty years hoarding "junk" that everyone mocked. When the heat turned the earth into a furnace and Drake’s war-party smashed into the fence, they were met with a wall of diesel fire. My grandfather had spent three years digging a secret tunnel that bypassed the perimeter, and half a ton of fertilizer sent their entire encampment into the sky. They laughed at his junk pile. I laughed at their graves.

I built my husband Evan's Hollywood acting empire alongside him, and we kept our marriage hidden from the public. I once believed our bond was unbreakable. Until I checked his car's navigation history.
For an entire year, every Wednesday night, my movie-star husband lied about working overnight film shoots. When I followed the GPS route to its destination, I found the apartment of his rival actress, Leah.
Then I found more lies. It was only after I vanished completely that Evan realized what he had lost. But by then, I was no longer the woman he left behind.
Some secrets exposed by GPS can never be erased. Some women can never be found again.

I got dragged online by one of my lead devs.

He claimed my "Incubation Project" was a gilded cage—a trap to exploit the team and steal their personal IPs.

The truth?

I funded it out of my own pocket.

Selected candidates would get a $50,000 no-strings-attached seed fund, plus full Ivy League tuition reimbursement. It was 100% voluntary, with zero penalties for opting out.

Since the internet decided I was a toxic capitalist monopolizing their creativity, I gave him exactly what he wanted. I fired off a company-wide memo:

[To protect your creative freedom from capitalist exploitation, the $50,000 Incubation Fund is permanently abolished, effective immediately.]

[As an alternative, the monthly education allowance for all employees is now a $15 reimbursement for basic coding courses.]

The moment the memo dropped, the employees who were counting on that $50k to pay off student loans or change their lives completely lost it.

Now, they're swarming right outside my glass office door, eyes red, begging me to reinstate the program.

For two years my mother told the whole town that my sister Zoe was in a hospital in Switzerland.
She shut the heat off in my room with a wrench, because Zoe's ward is kept at sixty-five degrees. My dinner was always cold, because Zoe can't keep solid food down. I never got a birthday cake, because Zoe hasn't had one since she was seventeen.
The day I won the state 1600, she pulled the medal off my neck in the parking lot and didn't say one word the whole drive home. Then she walked me down to the basement, dropped it on the floor, and ground it under her heel until the ribbon came apart. She took a picture of it lying there. I'll send this to your sister. So she knows her little sister is keeping her company.
She came back down that night with a pair of garden shears. I fought her. She got a fistful of my hair, put my head over her knee, and cut it all off, because chemo took Zoe's.
Then I found something down there my mother never meant me to see.
My sister isn't where she said. And she isn't sick.

Every herb in Moonspring, I had coaxed to life myself, drop by drop, with a healer's touch.
But to my mate, Rourke, the place was just a backyard for his best friend Boone to use and wreck however he pleased.
I had put up with it for a long time.
I put up with it until Boone, planning his own mating ceremony, trampled half a year of my work into the mud right in front of me. I put up with it until Rourke forced me to my knees through our mate mark, just so his friends wouldn't see him lose face.
In three days, Boone would hold the grandest mating ceremony the pack had ever seen, right here in Moonspring.
And I looked at the land transfer I had just agreed to, and said a single word.

My beast companions are in the middle of my medicinal soak when a soft, dramatic little "ow" drifts in from outside.

Vex, my wolfkin companion, drops my leg. Brom, the bearkin, jerks his hand and a fortune's worth of elixir spills into the water.

They crash through the floor-to-ceiling window and bolt outside without a single glance back — all for some ordinary girl.

I'm still staring at the broken glass when a stream of glowing blue text pops up out of nowhere.

[The main character Ivy literally fake-tripped in the garden and these two idiots jumped out a window for her!]
[Honestly, the original side character Lillia had it so rough. Backstabbed by her own companions, dies a miserable death, and they end up in Ivy's entourage…]
[And she never even figures out what's happening. Just suffers through the whole thing without a clue.]

I read through all of it, and one thought slowly rises: seriously?

If my companions won't behave, just get new ones. Simple.

I go straight to my mom, and before I've even finished talking, she's already pulling me toward the door.

"Any beast that turns on its master isn't worth keeping. Come on, baby — let's go pick you out some new ones. Mom's paying, so make it the most expensive ones they've got."

A madman attacked the concert hall. I threw myself over my son, taking every blow meant for him. My spine shattered in three places.

My husband Arthur subdued the attacker and rushed us to the hospital—the picture of a devoted, loving spouse.

It was only after hearing his conversation with the doctor that I finally saw his true colors.

My crippling injury was merely collateral damage. My son Ethan? Nothing but a living cornea donor for Mia—the cherished daughter he had with his first love.

He treated my child like spare parts, never knowing Mia isn't even his blood.

After my mother remarried, my stepbrother Logan bullied me nonstop every day. I lived in constant agony, isolated and helpless, forced to endure all the abuse alone.
When I was close to giving up, Logan’s best friend Noah reached out to me. He was sweet and caring, bringing me much-needed warmth. I latched onto him blindly, believing he was my only savior and my last ray of hope.
Yet his kindness was all a lie, a cruel trap planned by him and Logan. He gained my trust just to betray and hurt me. My last hope crumbled completely. Broken and devastated by their deception, I cut off all ties and left this painful place for good.

My fiancé, Nathan, always said that decisions shouldn't be based on closeness, but on urgency.
At a car crash scene, he rushed my best friend, Roxanne, to the hospital first because her cuts looked deeper. When my mother was dying of cancer, he gave her hard-won experimental medication to Roxanne’s mother instead, claiming her condition was more critical.
Time after time, I convinced myself he was just being fair. He was just being rational.
On Roxanne’s twenty-ninth birthday, she cried that her secret boyfriend had stood her up. I stayed behind to drink with her. Knowing Nathan was on his way to pick me up, I hid behind the sofa, planning to jump out and surprise him.
But when he pushed the door open and didn’t see me, he didn't look for me. He walked straight to Roxanne, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her fiercely.

"I was bonded with an alien system that issued nothing but 'benevolence' missions.
Supply food to violent thugs, shelter the mutants, embrace the Zombie King, and share our planetary defense technology with the entire world.
It claimed that as long as we were merciful, the civilization could survive.
I nodded, then promptly tweaked the task annotations.
I laced the food with neuro-suppressants, turned the shelter into a bio-sample bank, and activated kinetic overload when I 'embraced' the monster king.
Sharing the tech? Sure—though every defensive line I shared came with a backdoor that I could trigger remotely.
When the system eventually tried to purge me, Professor Sarah retaliated by locking it inside the national supercomputer.
I rewrote its underlying code, replacing 'mercy' with 'absolute order.'
Earth remains a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but the global satellite network is entirely in my hands.
The system’s most crushing defeat wasn't being destroyed; it was staying alive, only to become my tool."

For six years, I wore Pack silver. I sold my blood. I scrubbed silver out of Pack den floors. I slept on a basement floor — all to pay off my mate's Pack debt and buy my brother's wolfsbane antidote.
Today, with the receipt finally signed, my brother looked at me and said:
"Seren, I was never poisoned. Our parents aren't dead either. The Rogue raid six years ago — I arranged it. The only wolf hurt that night was you."
My mate stepped up behind him: "I never lost my Pack rank either. I've been at the estate the whole time."
Then my parents — the ones I'd buried seven years ago — walked through the door.
The Pack physician had given me forty-eight hours left to live.
They were going to remember every single one.

I was drugged with an aphrodisiac by my competitors, and Pierce Pei dumped me in his older brother's room.
Pretending to be delirious from the drug's effects, I seduced his older brother all night long.
The moment I opened my eyes the next morning, I blushed and complained to Pierce, "You were way too rough last night. I can barely get out of bed."
"But you were so amazing last night. I really, really liked it."
Pierce froze. He threw away every gift I had ever given him.
Later, after all his black cards were canceled, he stormed furiously into his brother's office.
There, he saw the cold and aloof eldest son of the Pei family kneeling on one knee, putting shoes on my feet.

I've been to four weddings. I never made it through a single one.
Not because I didn't love enough. Not because they weren't good enough. It was because every time — right at the moment I was supposed to say I do — my parents would appear on cue, fall apart on cue, and burn everything to the ground on cue.
For years I thought they hated me. Thought they'd given all their love to my dead sister, Claudia, and had nothing left. Then my brother-in-law said something that cracked me open: Any one of those three men — if you'd married him, you wouldn't be alive today.
So which is it? Were they protecting me, or destroying me?

Ten years ago, my parents worked for the Bellamys. He was their driver. She ran the house.

Then came the crash. I watched them shove Nash Bellamy out of the wreck, and it killed them both.

That's where the claustrophobia came from.

He knew. He knew all of it.

Then at homecoming, I showed up in a dress that matched Camilla's. She was the girl he'd always wanted. So he shoved me into the abandoned supply closet backstage.

The lock turned. On the other side of the door, he and Camilla were laughing like it was nothing.

"I'm pretty sure she's claustrophobic."

"Two hours in there. She'll learn."

I clawed at my own hands until they bled, couldn't get any air, and ended up wetting myself in a closet a dog wouldn't sleep in.

When the door finally opened, he pinched his nose and laughed and said I was disgusting.

I pushed myself up the wall, inch by inch, and looked at the face I'd been looking at for ten years. And I didn't want to cry anymore. Not even a little.

"Nash. I'm done chasing you."

The biggest regret of my life was letting my son intern at our family company.

Jonah had barely started his internship when another intern named Presley Shaw accused him of sexual assault. Of course, the security cameras on that floor just happened to be down for maintenance that day.

I panicked. I listened to my husband, Curtis, and privately paid Presley two million dollars to keep quiet. I thought money could buy us peace.

Instead, she posted the transfer records and a recording of our conversation online, accusing us of paying her to make the accusation disappear.

The backlash was overwhelming. My son, who wouldn’t hurt a fly and spent most of his time painting alone in his studio, was doxxed. Obscenities were spray-painted across our front door. The police took him away, and while he was being held in jail awaiting trial, the pressure kept mounting until he saw no way out.

In the end, he slit his wrists, believing it was the only way left to prove his innocence.

The company collapsed into bankruptcy. In the chaos, Curtis drained our accounts and ran off with Presley.

Only then did I understand. From the beginning, they had set the whole thing up to destroy my son and me.

On the anniversary of Jonah’s death, I jumped from the roof of our company building.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Jonah was supposed to begin his internship.

This time, I would never let my son go anywhere near that hell again.

Four years ago, Giovanni dumped me in front of everyone at an upscale restaurant. Two weeks later, he was engaged to Rosanna. I made a fool of myself begging on his doorstep, became the laughingstock of Ferro City.
Four years later, he runs into me at Casa Valentino, assumes I'm destitute, and offers me a job as a cleaner for him.
What he doesn't know is that the plainly dressed woman standing before him is the wife of Don Alessandro Valentino—the man the entire underworld bows to.

After being lost for ten years, I was finally brought home by my biological parents.
They stood in the cramped basement and asked me, "The family went bankrupt a month ago. You won't hold it against us for being poor, will you?"
Overcome with emotion, I hugged them tightly and shook my head fervently.
Later, my father was diagnosed with uremia and needed a large sum of money for surgery. To earn money, I worked three jobs a day, eventually collapsing from exhaustion and being diagnosed with a brain tumor. With no time for treatment, I rushed to deliver food orders.
Unexpectedly, I ran into my father—who should have been in the hospital undergoing dialysis—having booked an entire shopping mall to celebrate the adopted daughter's birthday. My mother, wearing an gorgeous gown I'd never seen before, smiled as she embraced the girl.
"Lily, our precious, Mommy and Daddy will give you everything you want."
My brother, who they said had died in an accident while searching for me, was dotingly putting a diamond necklace on the girl.
It turned out the family hadn't gone bankrupt at all—I just wasn't worthy.

My best friend Tiffany was obsessed with those novels where a mafia don spoils his woman rotten.

She was convinced she was the type of girl who could make a ruthless boss go soft, so she went after Vincent, the heir of a crime family, and got him.

His bodyguards, his dirty money, even the way he told her not to ask questions and just sit tight. She read all of it as devotion. And of course she had to drag me into it too, always with the same excuse: it was for my own good.

Last time around, her mess got me killed. Vincent's enemies mistook me for one of his people, and I died in a shootout that had nothing to do with me.

The second the blade opened my throat, all I could think about was her holding up a bloody knife, grinning, showing it off to me like a trophy.

"Margot, look. He gave me this. It means we're official now."

I remember feeling disgusted. I never thought that same knife would end up slitting my throat.

Blood pooled across the street while she hid in Vincent's arms, screaming, hands over her eyes. Later I heard her crying to someone, saying it wasn't her fault, that I just had bad luck.

I died inside her little romance fantasy. A nobody side character, wiped off the page without a second thought.

Then I opened my eyes, and I was back. Back to the afternoon it all started.

My chosen mate used his Beta authority to give the entire moonbloom compound to his fated mate's daughter.
The healer had said to split it—half for each child. Both would live. He overrode her. Gave the full dose to Rosalie Blackwell.
He wanted a full recovery. Just not for ours.
Three days later, my daughter Wren's organs shut down. She died on her birthday, still asking why Daddy wasn't there. The dress I'd made her—white with little silver wolves along the hem—she never got to put it on.
That same day, his fated's daughter walked out of the healing hall completely cured. He even threw a feast for the whole pack.
I collapsed at the border of Thornecrest territory. The healers told me it was cancer. Late-stage. Nothing left to treat.
Now I sat alone in our empty house with Wren's unworn birthday dress across my lap and drafted the dissolution papers.

The day my all-powerful wife personally handed me over to the mob's basement, she was shielding my identical twin brother, furiously accusing me of destroying his ability to carry on the family line.
To compensate for my brother's "trauma," my parents stood by and did nothing. Using her influence, my wife pressured me to take his place at a black-market clinic, testing a lethal drug.
They thought I was just going to suffer some physical hardship, that after enduring these two weeks, everything would be happily resolved.
But they didn't know I had already been poisoned by my brother. I was dying.
I died in agony on the cold operating table. As my body was being gnawed and rotted by rats, they were happily vacationing by the sea.
Only when the lies were exposed did my wife kick down the hidden door. Holding my maggot-infested, decaying flesh, she wept until she vomited blood, then went mad and swallowed a bullet. My parents watched their family shattered and wept on their knees.

I had spent ten years rescuing girls sacrificed to the river god.
Then, on the morning of my wedding, my parents drugged me, tied stones to my feet, and placed me on the offering raft.
My brother needed a bride, they said. Her life mattered more than mine.
But the eighteen women I had saved were waiting beneath the water.
This time, they saved me.
And together, we decided to give the county exactly what it claimed to worship:
a river god who demanded sons.

I would often find myself staring into my son Leon's eyes, lost in thought.
One, a deep azure blue, was inherited from his father. The other, however, was amber.
I couldn't understand it. While Leon's lineage is indeed mixed, his other eye should have been silver—the mark of my bloodline, the symbol of the royal werewolf lineage.
Yet it wasn't. This question had haunted me for five years.
Then, by chance, I came across an ancient book in my husband Carlisle's study. It detailed the hereditary rules of eye color for the royal werewolf line:
Regardless of which race they intermarry with, the direct descendants of the royal werewolves will always inherit at least one distinctive eye.
This meant that a son I bore would definitely have silver pupils.
My hands began to tremble uncontrollably. I shared my fear—that we might have brought home the wrong child—with Carlisle.
He flew into a rage, snatched the book from my hands, and threw it into the fireplace.
"Selene, are you doubting my fidelity? Or suspecting that our son isn't your own? If Leon knew you doubted him, his heart would be shattered."
Carlisle stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Watching his retreating figure, my heart grew cold, piece by piece.
His reaction confirmed my worst fear, the one I desperately wanted to deny.
With the full moon just seven days away, I decided to abandon the plan of taking Leon back to the royal werewolf clan.

Terminal. One month, maybe less.
I folded the report and put it in my bag. The doctor asked if there was family I could call. I told him there wasn't.
My husband rang while I was crouched against the hospital wall, waiting for the pain to pass. I could hear waves behind his voice. He didn't ask what the doctor said. He wanted to know why his money hadn't come through yet. His first love needed it for her art show.
So I sent him all of it. My savings, and the last of what my mother left me. Ten years, settled in one transfer.
Then my legs went, and a pair of freezing hands caught me before I hit the ground.
The pain stopped the second he touched me.
"Your kind calls us reapers. Give me your soul, and I'll keep the pain off you until the end."
Weston took one look at him and decided I'd hired an actor to make him jealous.
He thinks I'm trying to win him back.

After Three Thousand Years in Seclusion, My Sect Was Broke

I came out of seclusion expecting incense, bells, and a courtyard full of kneeling disciples.

Instead, dust fell into my hair, weeds covered the mountain road, and the great hall of the Azure Cloud Sect had collapsed so badly that a crooked tree had taken root on its roof.

Then a young woman in a patched blue robe pointed a sword at me and shouted, "Who are you? This is Azure Cloud territory. Are you here to steal herbs?"

I looked at the broken gate behind her.

Then I looked at the blade trembling in her hand.

After three thousand years, my sect had one disciple left.

And somehow, she was the sect master.

At four, they shattered both my legs. At six, they ruptured my left eardrum. At seven, they took my right eye—said I'd earn more sympathy begging blind.
After twelve years in hell, my billionaire parents finally found me.
The girl who stole my life grabbed my wrist, nails digging into my skin. "Dare take what's mine, and I'll break whatever's left of your legs."
I smiled, unclipping both prosthetics to show empty pant legs. "I don't have legs left."
She was terrified.

I once believed that my inability to bear children was my original sin.
So I endured my Alpha husband Ethan’s excessive favoritism toward our“old friend,” Lyra,
and swallowed the growing hatred of our adopted son, Lucas.

Until our eighth marking anniversary, when I obtained irrefutable proof—
Confirmed: Lyra is the biological mother of Lucas.

That very night, Lyra sent me a “family portrait” of the three of them.

Letter by letter, I typed my reply:
May the Moon Goddess bless you.

Ethan kicked the door open in fury.
Lucas called me a “bad mom.”

In that moment, my heart died—and with it came a strange calm.

I took out the long-sealed mate bond termination agreement and placed it on the table.

“I’ve already signed the last page,” I said evenly. “If you have any questions, my lawyer will contact you.”

My stepmother married my father because she mistakenly believed he was an Alpha, and that was the beginning of my tragedy.
In my past life, I was falsely accused by my stepmother, betrayed by my mate, and abandoned by my father, who refused to believe me and sold me to an elderly Omega. In the end, I died with injustice in my heart.
But heaven has granted me a second chance. I have returned to the very day my stepmother framed me for her miscarriage.
This time, I won’t let them have their way.
I have gathered my entire pack to make meatballs together, waiting to put on a spectacular show—exposing the scandal of my stepmother, Odessa, and my mate, Beta Peregrine.

My Alpha was the one who started the fire—he lit it with his own hands, ready to burn his own children alive, just so his little mistress Beta Sasha could become Luna without a hitch.

I ran into the flames, carrying two unconscious pups on my back, and jumped from the fifth floor. My palms were scorched, skin torn, flesh charred.

I thought saving his “future heirs” with my own life might earn me a word of gratitude.

But when I woke up, the tribe’s medic looked at me coldly and said, “The Alpha is with Beta Sasha. She was... frightened.”

That was the moment I finally understood—I wasn’t his fated mate, not their mother, not even part of the pack.

I was just a vessel on their path to power. A body—if it didn’t burn, it could still be used.

My marriage to Lucas was nothing but a cold-blooded mafia alliance. There was never any love between us.
His heart had always belonged to my best friend, Chloe. From the beginning to the end, I was never in his eyes.
And me? All I ever wanted was a sweet, honest love story of my own.
With his silent permission, I went looking for love online. But on the day I met my so-called online boyfriend for the first time, I was shoved into a lake and rescued by Chloe’s fiancé, Damon.
No one could have predicted that a man rumored to have no interest in women at all would react to me and me alone.
From that moment on, he caged me at his side and forced me to become his secret lover.
But this was never the kind of love I wanted. I still kept searching for something sweet, real, and truly mine.

In the fifth year of my mating to Alpha Manfred,his childhood sweetheart, Jessica Bell, was splashed across every tabloid in the territory.
Pregnant. Unmated. And accused of shattering another couple’s bond.
The rumors hit like a rogue’s ambush. But it was his reaction that truly gutted me.
“Jessica’s father once saved me, She has no pack, no family left. Everything she’s accomplished… she clawed her way to it. Alone.”
My fingers clenched tighter around the pregnancy test tucked away in my purse.
“And the only way to protect her now,” he continued, not even looking me in the eye, “is for me to marry her. To claim the pup as mine.”
A muscle twitched in my jaw. Goddess, my wolf let out a low growl inside me, begging to lunge forward and leave claw marks down his perfectly tragic face.
“And what about me?” I asked, barely more than a whisper. My voice cracked.
The Silver Claw Pack and the Eclipse Pack—my pack—had been allies for over a century.

After twenty years of knowing and loving my destined mate, Alpha Martin, we were finally about to get married.
On the eve of the wedding, He skillfully picked out the lipstick shade I wanted from my makeup bag.
That's when I knew: Alpha Martin had someone else.
That girl was wearing the custom evening gown I'd prepared for the wedding banquet, clinking glasses with Alpha Martin in a mate's toast.
Our friends surrounded her, respectfully calling her "Luna."
I didn't cause a scene. Instead, I called the hospital.
"Dr. Fabian, please dispose of the eggs I had frozen."
Then I sent a message to that girl.
"Yvonne Jimenez, would you like to marry Martin Daniels in my place?"

She's pregnant with my brother's baby. And if he doesn't marry her, I will.


It was Austin’s turn to seething with rage. “You are not aborting that child.” His voice echoed menacingly, animosity lingering in the air around them.

My body, my rules.” She shot back with an unbothered shrug.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice.” He barked. The idea of marriage and children had never crossed his mind. It wasn’t a part of his life plan. “I’d chain you to a bed for the entire nine months if I have too.”

She blinked, stupefied that he thought himself capable. “I think you forget who you are speaking too, Austin.” She pronounced his name with disgust. “You cannot scare or manipulate me into following along with your ideas.” Marriage? To Austin Demon Cyner? Now that was a delusion. “A stupid one at that.” She added, eyeing him meticulously.

“Marry me, Skylar. It’s a win-win; a marriage of convenience.” He’d cleared his throat and was taking long strides towards her. Suddenly the room felt too small to contain the sheer size of him.

“I severely dislike you, though. What am I winning exactly?” her feet were traveling backwards, unwilling to have her standing up too close to him.

“A stable home for your child,” the sound of his shoes tapping rhythmically in her ear “Our child.” He added on quickly, his voice low, compelling her to agree.

“I don’t recall you being in the room when it was made.”


Check out another story in the same collection: His Tempting Captive

“One million dollars!”. A deep voice bid making everywhere to go silent.


Just a day after Ashley turned eighteen, her parents sold her off to a gangster in order to pay their debt. The gangster decided to resell her in an audition where she was brought for a million dollars.

Ashley was brought by Xander Cage the don of the biggest mafia organization in the state. Xander needed a wife in order to present himself as a responsible man to him big time client.

Ashely found herself thrown into the ruthless world of the mafia where love is impossible. Will she be able to fit into the world or will she run done the hills. Find out more as you read.

Dear readers, this novel is coming to an end soon. I highly recommend another fantastic story of the same genre:


I’d appreciate all your support, thank you so much!
From first crush to wedding vows, George Capulet and I had been inseparable. But in our seventh year of marriage, he began an affair with his secretary.

On my birthday, he took her on vacation. On our anniversary, he brought her to our home and made love to her in our bed...

Heartbroken, I tricked him into signing divorce papers.

George remained unconcerned, convinced I would never leave him.

His deceptions continued until the day the divorce was finalized. I threw the papers in his face: "George Capulet, from this moment on, get out of my life!"

Only then did panic flood his eyes as he begged me to stay.

When his calls bombarded my phone later that night, it wasn't me who answered, but my new boyfriend Julian.

"Don't you know," Julian chuckled into the receiver, "that a proper ex-boyfriend should be as quiet as the dead?"

George seethed through gritted teeth: "Put her on the phone!"

"I'm afraid that's impossible."

Julian dropped a gentle kiss on my sleeping form nestled against him. "She's exhausted. She just fell asleep."

In everyone's eyes, Bertha and Derek had the wrong marriage. Married for three years, Bertha thought she would melt Derek's icy heart but she was wrong. Derek's heart only goes out to Laura - his ex-girlfriend. Derek treats Bertha poorly. One day, she saw her husband having an affair with Laura. Unable to continue anymore, she decided to divorce Derek. She will not waste her youth on a heartless man, someone who has trampled on her heart many times. After the divorce, Bertha returned to her parents' home, becoming the heir to the fortune left by her parents. No one knows her true identity. A life like a queen awaits her. As for Derek, he thought that Bertha's life would be miserable after the divorce until one day, he found Bertha and said. “I want to remarry with you. What are conditions?" Hearing Derek's words, Bertha just smirked, looking at him with disdain.

“I never let go,” he says to her, voice deep and intoxicating. “After you, there’ll be no one else. I’m going to want all of you. Every part of you, Sophia.”
~
Alexander Thorne is vice—danger wrapped in billions, immorality, and a smile that feels like sin. And unfortunately for Sophia Rose, he’s the man she’s been arranged to marry.
Sophia may be young, spoiled, and rich, but she’s done having her life dictated for her. With her father’s crumbling empire and society waiting to feast on their downfall, she’s got only two escape routes: RUN or be SOLD.
No one warned her that Alexander would become her weakness.
She shouldn’t want a man like him. Marrying him shouldn’t even be an option. But, Alexander is so deliciously irresistible. He makes it his mission to claw his way into her heart, her thoughts, her fears.
Every private moment with him leaves her breathless, wanting more, and tangled deeper in his hands.
By the time she realizes that he’s the thorn that will ruin her, she’s far too trapped to run.
~
Content Warning: This book contains mature and sensitive themes, including sexual sins, exploitation, and manipulation, addiction, trauma, violence, and emotional struggles. These topics are portrayed with honesty and care. Characters wrestle with serious issues on their journey to healing and light. Intimate scenes are sensual but not explicit. Please, read with discernment.

Dumped by her groom publicly, Luna married his uncle—Theodore, a business tycoon.
Hatred? Revenge? Or his long-planning?

Wedding night, he handed over a contract. “Nice doing business with you, my wife.”
When her down-and-out ex begged for a second chance? Luna smirked, swirling wine. “I'm Luna Carter, your new aunt—and the new owner of the Davis's enterprise.”

Evelyn Parker's life takes a shocking turn when she finds herself pregnant—while her fiancé lies in a coma, and she has no idea who the father is. Branded as immoral and shunned by society, Evelyn faces relentless judgment and humiliation. Just when she hits her lowest point, a mysterious man steps in.

He gives her everything: a luxurious home, the finest clothes and food, and endless wealth. But he never shows his face. Evelyn convinces herself that as long as she carries his child, he will eventually come forward. She waits, only to have her newborn taken from her arms, and the man vanishes without a trace.

Years later, he returns, cornering her with a familiar smirk and a commanding presence. "We're not strangers," he says. "You've already had my child. Maybe it's time I remind you how it happened." With danger, desire, and secrets colliding, Evelyn must uncover the truth behind her mysterious lover—and the power he holds over her heart.

Julia loves reading BDSM erotic books. Her husband catches her reading one of those books and then they both try out playing sex games where Julia gets to be a slave and she loves playing these love games with her husband. But will these games affect their marriage? Let's find out by reading how it all started and how it's going!
This is book 02 of the slavery series.

Julia loves reading BDSM erotic books. Her husband catches her reading one of those books and then they both try out playing sex games where Julia gets to be a slave and she loves playing these love games with her husband. But will these games affect their marriage? Let's find out by reading how it all started and how it's going!
This is book 03 of the slavery series.

Adira was the weakest Omega of the Crimson Pack a frail, mocked outsider who dreamed of joining. But her world came crashing down when Caspian, the strong Alpha and her fated mate, openly rejected her, thinking her unworthy to stand by his side. Betrayed by her own blood and blamed for a crime she didn’t commit, Adira was cast out, left to die in the wild.

When all hope seemed lost, destiny intervened. Granted a second chance by a strange force, Adira rises with a power she never knew she possessed. Stronger, smarter, and more determined than ever, she returns to the Crimson Pack under a new name, ready to uncover the web of lies, face those who betrayed her, and take payback on those who wronged her.

But as her path crosses with Caspian again, sparks flare, and old scars reappear. Caught between love and revenge, Adira must decide whether to trust the mate who once refused her or make her own path as a queen in her own right.

With enemies hiding in the shadows, truths about her past coming to light, and the fate of the pack hanging in the balance, Adira’s journey is far from over. Can the once-weak Omega rise to become the Crimson Pack’s best Luna?

She was spoiled and the only daughter of Italy’s most feared Mafia empire. But I was never supposed to fall for the one man paid to protect me.
Luca Bianchi. My father's most trusted bodyguard. A man with secrets darker than his tailored suits and eyes that have haunted me since I was sixteen. When threats close in and betrayal strikes from inside our mansion, my parents send me away with the one man I swore I hated.
But this isn’t just about stolen glances and red lace. Because someone is hunting me.
And Luca might be the only one who can save me.
He’s the bodyguard. I’m the heiress.
And in this deadly game of bullets and betrayal…
I might just be the one who gets claimed.

When the lights go out, the sins begin.
Sinful Nights isn't one story—it's many. A collection of steamy, adult tales where desire rules and temptation knows no limits. From forbidden encounters to irresistible passion, these nights are anything but innocent. Slip under the sheets and let the heat consume you.

Violet loses her parents as a young child and is brought up by an elderly aunt. As she approaches her 17th birthday her life is turned upside down when her Aunt tells her that the life she has built with her must end - she has to go and learn about the background of her father. Secrets have been kept and those secrets turn Violet's life on it's head!

Not only does she have to accept that her father wasn't who she thought he was, but she too, is something she didn't even realise existed! It seems a whole plan had been in place for if something happened to her parents, including learning of her heritage and all it means.
So, Violet is sent to Autumn Moon Pack, where an elderly relative of her father's still lives to give Violet chance to be surrounded by others like her. In truth, she plans to learn what she needs to learn what she needs to and leave to live alone like her father before her.
But will meeting the handsome Beta, who seems quite taken with her, change her mind? And could there be yet more secrets to be revealed?

"As you make your bed so you must lie in it. Pretty noble to sell your body for your brother. And you nearly lost your life for your cheap friend? A sacrifice must be your life motto. Who do you think you are? A saint?"

He captured her, and no way to escape this devil. In his peculiar way, both tough and gentle, she can only accept it and lower her guard down.

He was looking for someone who stole his disc and took someone who's just an ordinary and young supermarket staff. Her life totally changed since she met him.

He forces everything, including a three-year contract, to be his woman. Her enchanting beauty captured him, and the love-hate journey started.

Thirty-eight year old Levy a successful business owner and bike finds himself lost and lonely after his wife, Lilly has passed away. It's been two years and despite all the efforts of his close friends, Levy just isn't ready to date anyone or let them close. He's frightened to love and lose again. He doesn't think his heart will ever be the same.
That is until he starts to notice his son's ex girlfriend, Harper. At just twenty she knows her own mind. And Levy is all the man that she wants. And when Harper wants something she usually gets it. She makes no bones about letting Levy know that she is interested in him leaving him reeling.
Levy is blown away by her, he can't stop thinking about her but will he risk his relationship with his only son to chase love, friendship and happiness with a young woman, 18 years his junior?
Only time will tell.
A heart-warming, spicy, age gap romance.

They said it was just a phase. A crush. A mistake she'd forget by morning. But obsessions don't fade. They grow.
In Filthy Obsessions, lust doesn't whisper, it grabs hair, rips buttons, and leaves bruises in its name. These stories are not sweet. They're soaked in sin. A sex therapist who doesn't use words to fix broken marriages. A judge who sentences two sisters to submission, then joins them. A father's best friend who doesn't just watch,he waits, dark and patient, until she begs for his cock. An art professor who sketches her body in secret... then ruins her innocence on the altar. These men aren't heroes. They're cravings in human form. And the women who fall for them? They never recover.
If you've ever whispered "Daddy, begged for it, screamed through it, or touched yourself thinking, "What if…" Filthy Obsessions was written for you.