4616 Book(s) Related to my boss is a fae prince

Alpha Jericho rejected his mate before, but now he was ready to claim what has always belonged to him.


Alpha Jericho has been hiding in the shadows, biding his time, and now he was prepared to reclaim the woman who completely changed his life.

However, while he was away, a shifter he once trusted has taken control of his territory. He rules with fear and corruption, and Aria is standing by his side. To make matters worse, there's a hidden enemy waiting in the wings, but his mate refuses to heed his warnings.

“Stealing from me wasn't the problem. Leaving before I could wake up wasn't what almost drove me insane,” he whispered, kissing my neck while thrusting slowly inside me.

“Then what did?” I moaned out, loving every bit of his firm, slow thrusts. “Why did you search for me so hard?”

“Because I missed you so much, baby. After that night, I lost my mind. All I could think of was seeing you again, holding you again, making love to you again. Kissing you….”

“Stop. Don't tell me such things,” I said between tears and moans. “Don't make me think you're in love with me.”

“But I am. I am in love with you, Lacy.” he declared, staring deep into my eyes. I froze.

He can't mean that. He doesn't mean that. He's my best friend's father. And he's a billionaire, a man way out of my league. He can't and shouldn't be in love with me. I'm a pack of ugly and dirty secrets. I've got demonstration haunting my life every day. He's only gonna get caught up in my mess. They're gonna haunt him too. They'll ruin his reputation. They'll ruin him entirely. He shouldn't be in love with me. And I shouldn't be either.

But how can I keep my heart from falling for the one man that's proven again and again that he doesn't wanna let me go? That he's willing to burn the world for me? How can I not fall for a man who comes back every time I push him away?

How do I stay away from a man like CRISTIAN ANDERSON?

Kimberly Smith thought winning a scholarship to Greywood Academy would be her way out. Straight A’s. A fresh start. A future that her mom could finally be proud of.
Instead, Greywood takes one look at her thrift shoes and homemade lunch—and decides she’s entertainment.
They call her Scumbag of the Week.
They film her, mock her, and turn every mistake into a headline.
And the worst part? The boy who started it is the one person she can’t avoid.
Xavier Grey is the heir everyone fears, the boyfriend every girl worships, and the bully who knows exactly how to break people with a smirk. Kimberly swears she’ll survive him, not fall for him.
Then the lines blur.
A “dare kiss” goes viral. Someone pushes her into a pool. Her scholarship is suddenly under review—with “evidence” that makes her look guilty. Her only friend turns against her. Even her mother starts to doubt her.
And Xavier—cold, controlled Xavier—starts showing up when it matters. Warning her away from traps. Paying to erase posts. Touching her tears like he hates that they exist.
Greywood is built to crush girls like Kimberly.
So why does its most dangerous boy look like he might burn it down for her?

Emily Fields never meant to become a killer.

She was twenty-two when she stabbed a man eleven times behind the bar where she worked. She remembered the first strike. She never remembered the other ten.

Seven months later, the victim suddenly withdrew the charges without explanation.

With nowhere to go and only forty-one dollars to her name, Emily accepts an offer that sounds too good to refuse: become the live-in maid and companion of a wealthy widow at an isolated estate.

The job is simple.

Take care of the old woman.

But the Holloway estate is full of things that don't make sense.

Emily starts waking in parts of the house she has been forbidden to enter, with no memory of how she got there. She finds old photographs that leave her with a strange sense that she has seen them before. The widow watches her with an unsettling familiarity, as though Emily's arrival has been expected for much longer than she realizes.

Then there are the widow's three sons.

Max likes to watch her.

Will can't stop touching her.

And Finn avoids her so completely that Emily begins to wonder what he is afraid will happen if he gets too close.

Emily has spent most of her life believing her story began when she was found and taken into care. No family she could remember. No real answers about where she came from.

But someone inside the Holloway estate seems to know.

And as Emily begins digging into the family's secrets, she realizes everyone around her has been hiding something... including herself.

Because the greatest mystery isn't simply what happened before she ended up in the orphanage.

It's why she can't remember any of it.

When Mila transfers to Northshore Academy, she wants a fresh start. She doesn’t expect to clash with Cole, the cold and feared hockey star everyone avoids.

Cole is the best player in the school. He barely talks. No one dares to challenge him—until Mila steps onto the ice and proves she can play just as well.

Their rivalry turns into a public challenge. The rule is simple: if Mila wins, Cole must carry her school bag every day for six months. If Cole wins, Mila will have to accept the embarrassment.

Mila wins.

From that day on, Cole walks beside her to school, silent and serious, carrying her bag. Rumors spread. Students stare. What starts as a punishment slowly turns into something neither of them expects

"You're... you're leaving me here? I'm your Luna!" I stammered. My body felt like it was burning from the inside out. I barely recognized it as my own.
"I'm sorry, Lyra," he said, already turning away. "My pack's safety comes first." With that, he turned his back on me.


What happens when the man you chose... chooses fate instead?
Lyra believed she had already won against destiny. She and Cassian were not fated mates, but they chose each other anyway. Together, they built a powerful united pack, ruled side by side, and vowed to reject whatever fate tried to steal from them.
Until the day Cassian returned from the border carrying another woman in his arms—Liora.
She was fragile, gentle, and completely different from Lyra. And most importantly, she was Cassian's fated mate.
Cassian refused to let either woman go. So, he offered Lyra an ultimatum: An open marriage.
Humiliated in her own home, accused of cruelty, and forced to watch her husband protect another woman with a devotion he had never shown her, Lyra's heart shatters piece by piece.
But fate isn't done with her yet.
Her longtime enemy, Ethan—the Alpha of the second-largest pack in the North—claims her as his contractual Luna.
As zombie rogue attacks escalate and secrets begin to surface, Lyra must choose between staying in a marriage that no longer wants her or walking away from everything she helped build.

He has dark hair with very beautiful blue eyes, a cold and charismatic person.

I often see his work which is very good and my favorite, a painting of a toddler girl in a pink dress.

I thought it was an ordinary painting, but not for people who claim to know his dark past.

They say, the toddler painting is a manifestation of his mental illness which has an affinity for young children.

Levi William Stanley or Adam Joseph McCartney, a sadistic killer who had the heart to brutally murder his parents when he was 12 years old.

However, I couldn't believe the rumors. How could someone as handsome and great as him is a murderer?

People say, don't look at a book by its cover. But, is it true that my favorite lecturer is a murderer?

When the hospital called, I thought I was going to lose him.

The moment I burst into his room, Nathan was alive, but the way he looked at me, like I was a complete stranger.

"I'm sorry, you are...?"

My husband had forgotten everything. Three years of marriage, from the moment we met to falling in love, all erased.

But what's even more absurd? He stared at his bother Nolan and said, "Did I just... fall in love at first sight with a stranger?"

Listening to him frantically ask Nolan in the hospital room "Is this normal?", a crazy idea suddenly hit me—

Three years ago, Nathan "acquired" me in just three months. From his secretary to his wife, so fast it felt like closing a business deal. I loved him, but something was always missing... like a real courtship, real romance.

Now, he has amnesia.

What if I told him we were just in a contract marriage? That our contract was ending soon and we were about to separate?

To the rest of the world, I was just a blue-collar "oil rig worker" battling the sun and storms at sea year-round.

But my true service record is locked deep in the Pentagon’s top-secret archives. Codename: "Ghost"—a specialist handling the military's deadliest black ops overseas.

The day my final mission ended, I pushed open my front door filled with anticipation, only to be greeted by a floor pooled with blood and smashed furniture.

An untouchable syndicate had beaten my wife black and blue and abducted my seven-year-old son, threatening to harvest him for the black-market organ trade.

Right now, safely holed up in a subterranean fortress, the arrogant syndicate boss is hiding behind multi-ton blast doors and dozens of hired guns, scoffing at the "cowardly" husband who only knew how to cry to the cops.

What they don't know is that, just a few minutes ago, I permanently shredded that disguise.

Let the hunt begin...

I thought escaping to Vegas would help me forget my cheating ex. Instead, I had the hottest one-night stand of my life with a mysterious stranger in a hotel bar, then panicked and ran before sunrise.

Two days later, I'm sitting across from my "arranged" blind date, and my stomach drops. It's him. Same intense eyes. Same devastating smile.

Now my dad expects us to get serious. His dad's breathing down his neck too. So we make a crazy deal: fake an engagement to get our families off our backs, then figure out if this thing between us is real.

I was the most envied mafia wife in Chicago, until his Tibetan Mastiff tore apart what remained of our child.
Everyone called it an accident. I knew it wasn’t.
While I was bleeding out on the operating table, my husband was in the VIP ward, personally attending to his “traumatized” adopted sister. The whole family coddled her delicate state. Only I saw the smirk she couldn’t hide behind every calculated “panic attack.”
Then the Feds gave me a choice: keep playing the perfect, miserable wife, or vanish into a classified program so secret, I’d be dead to everyone I ever knew.
I signed. I uploaded the audio proof of their affair. I watched my old life disappear.
You swore you’d protect the family above all else, darling?
How fitting. My new mission is to protect this country from all threats.
Starting with you.

To escape the absurd arranged marriage with the Duke of Hawthorne—a ruthless billionaire who demanded absolute physical perfection around him and was rumored to fire servants just for being plain—I spent years painting on hideous freckles and a sickly yellow complexion.
I hid my true face beneath outdated tweed suits until Earl Julian Sutton knelt in my rose garden.
"Georgina, I don't care about your looks. It's your gentle soul I love," he vowed.
I believed him. I fought my greedy father and defied the terrifying Duke just to be with him.
Yet, on our wedding day, right before exchanging rings, Julian dropped my hand and rushed to his crying mistress—a C-list model with a mass-produced plastic face.
"She's too fragile, Georgina. You're strong..." he said shamelessly in front of hundreds of guests.
The high society crowd gasped, throwing me pitiful glances.
So this was the price of testing a man's heart.
Suddenly, the heavy doors swung open. The Duke of Hawthorne strode in, flanked by bodyguards.
He walked straight to me, gently touched my clean, flawless cheek, and sighed.
"You made me play along with this 'ugly duckling' game for so long, my future Duchess... Are you finally done testing these fools?"

On the night of the charity gallery opening, I caught Lucas and Lila tangled together in the storage closet.
He pulled the girl tight against his chest and sneered, “Stella, you’re eight whole years older than me. You’ve controlled my life for five years—when are you gonna realize you can never hold onto me?”
Lila giggled, snuggling deeper into his arms. “You’re past your prime, ma’am. Why cling to someone who was never yours to begin with?”
Snickers and mocking laughter rippled through the onlookers.
I gave a slow, hollow smile.
For five years, I single-handedly kept Scott Enterprises afloat, mopped up every mess he made, and buried every scandal spawned by his endless string of flings.
Still, he hopped from one girl to the next, weaponizing our age gap to mock and hurt me, over and over again.
Then he shoved me hard. I crumpled to the floor in a pool of my own blood, watching him bolt out with another woman in his arms, not a single glance thrown back my way.
I knew right then the baby was gone.
Everyone whispered how pathetically I’d bent over backward for love.
No one ever learned the truth: I endured everything only because his face mirrored my late fiancé, Elias.

I'm the forgotten eldest son of the Cross family.
My parents see me as a walking blood bag for my brother Colin, while my wife views me as a sinner destined to spend my life atoning for my mistakes.
When Audrey pressured me to donate a kidney, I agreed.
Not only did I agree, but I also liquidated all my assets and transferred them to my lab.
They thought I was foolish, that I was still begging for their love.
In reality, I was just tying up loose ends.
The night before the surgery, I coughed up a pool of blood.
Audrey laughed coldly over the phone: "Stop the act, Evan. You just want to dodge responsibility. You'll go to any lengths for attention."
The surgery was a "success."
Colin got the kidney he'd always dreamed of.
And I died in the recovery room.
My soul floated in the air as I watched Audrey push open the hospital door, wearing a smile that dripped with pity, ready to put on a show of "redemption."
"Evan, I know you've been wronged. Let's start over..."
The only response to her was the white sheet covering my lifeless body.

The day I walked in on my boyfriend screwing that blonde tramp, I dropped the homemade tiramisu right there on the floor—our two-year relationship smashed to bits, messier than the splattered cream.

I ducked into a bar, slamming back whiskey, when this guy in a sharp black suit sidles up, his voice smooth as silk laced with bourbon. I spat out, "Help me forget him," but ended up totally lost in the presidential suite. He backed me against the wall, tore open my blouse, his tongue circling my nipple before biting down hard, leaving me breathless. "You taste like candy, baby—tonight, I'm gonna eat you up."

But then my boyfriend FaceTimes, spots the guy behind me, and loses it, screaming, "Dad!"

I went ice-cold—my hookup was my boyfriend's stepdad? Even worse, this thirty-three-year-old powerhouse was Brooklyn's deadliest mob boss.

What began as a vengeful fling spiraled into a forbidden nightmare?

My marriage to Matthew was a transaction, a substitute—everything except love. When his white moonlight came back, I was abandoned, diagnosed with gastric cancer, and carrying his child. His late regret could never bring back my life, nor could it keep our unborn baby.

My husband bought a necklace for the woman who killed my mother.

When I saw my foster sister Rebecca Rebecca wearing that emerald necklace with Aaron at the party, I knew history would repeat itself. Seven years ago, my mother lost everything the same way—her husband, her dignity, and finally her life.

I wouldn't follow in her footsteps.

So after slapping Rebecca across the face, I told everyone I was divorcing him and walked out with my suitcase.

Rebecca thought she'd won again. Aaron thought I was just being hysterical.

Neither of them saw it coming—

This time, I'd make them pay.

After being reborn, my cousin and I swapped mates.
Last life, she married Kaelen Thornfield — the coldest Alpha in the West. Fifty years together and he never marked her. Not once. His childhood "friend," an Omega with a PhD in crying on command, made sure of that. My cousin faded into nothing. Unmarked. Unloved. Invisible.
Me? I married a man who couldn't stand the sound of my voice. Eleven months. Done.
This time, I took the western contract. Drove three days across the country in a beat-up truck, blew a radiator in the middle of nowhere, and rolled into his pack's territory covered in engine grease and smelling like a gas station.
His little Omega took one look at me and wrinkled her nose.
She has no idea what's coming.
I don't do tears. I don't do subtle. And when some girl sobbed at my mating ceremony about how jealous she was of me — I grabbed my Alpha by the collar and sank my teeth into his neck.
In front of the entire pack.
Without asking.

When I was reborn, and my Alpha husband's ward clamped a muzzle around my neck as a joke...
I didn't shift into my wolf and tear her arm off like in my past life.
I ripped off the bloody muzzle and gave Roman a smile.
"If you think this is a joke, keep indulging her."
And I walked away without looking back.
Because my death in my previous life was too miserable.
After our fallout, Roman used his Alpha authority to freeze my accounts overnight.
Exiled, I was diagnosed with terminal silver poisoning.
Dying in agony, I swallowed my pride and crawled back to the Pack gates.
But he let Chloe force me to my knees and refused to open the doors.
In the end, my wolf spirit shattered, and I froze to death.
I only understand after dying: love and dignity are worthless.
Survival and money are all that matter.

Three months ago, I was kidnapped. When Alexander rescued me, I woke up in a hospital bed with my clothes disheveled and bruises covering my body. What happened during those hours? I don't remember any of it.

A week ago, I found out I was pregnant. He held me as I shook and told me that it wasn't my fault. That he failed to protect me. Even if the baby wasn't his, he'd raise it. He'd still give me the perfect wedding.

But the guilt ate me alive until depression took hold.

Every night, sleep stays out of reach. Nightmares find me the moment I close my eyes. I've tried to end it. Three times now. Each time, someone found me just in time.

After the third failed attempt, I make tea and head toward his study to apologize. Voices drift through the door before I reach it.

"Are you out of your mind? Evelyn's your fiancée!" His friend sounds disbelieving. "You actually hired someone to kidnap her? Made her think she was assaulted? Just so Lily could take her place? Do you know how messed up that is? What that does to someone?"

Alexander's voice comes out calm. "Lily got sick because of me. Her dying wish is to marry me once before she goes. If I didn't push Evelyn out of the picture, her father would never let Lily take her place."

All those nights. All those nightmares. All those times I scrubbed my hands raw until they bled. It was all a lie. A setup.

For another woman.

I pull out my phone and call my father.

"Dad. I'll agree to the arrangement."

To please his mistress, Callum ordered me—pregnant—to dance barefoot in the black salt ice cellar.

When I stumbled back to the doorway to warm myself, the mistress covered her mouth and retched.

"I'm pregnant. I can't stand this death-stench of winter."

Only because I was a princess of the Winter Realm, born carrying frost in my veins.

Callum flew into a rage and had me locked inside a frost-crystal cage, sunk to the bottom of the ice well. No one was allowed to release me without his command.

"A princess of winter, afraid of the cold? What a joke!"

No matter how I struggled or begged, he couldn't have cared less. He and his mistress treated it as entertainment. And just like that, I froze to death at the bottom of that well.

What he didn't know was that although we winter-born are forged in bitter cold, when we carry a child, every drop of magic goes to protecting the baby. We have no defense left for ourselves. The very ice that shaped us becomes the thing that kills us.

Two days later, he was finally satisfied and ordered them to pull me up.

But I could never come back up again.

I chose the cheapest flowers in the shop because I thought my boyfriend was drowning in debt.
Hours later, I discovered he had sent his fiancée roses worth one hundred times more.
Julian Hart wasn't a struggling intern. He was the heir to Hart Group—and our entire relationship had been an experiment designed to test whether I was worthy of his fortune.
He expected me to forgive the lies.
He expected me to accept the career he destroyed.
He even expected me to come back after he refused to help save my grandmother.
Instead, I boarded a plane with another man and disappeared from his life.
Years later, the billionaire who once tested my love came begging for a second chance.

I stepped out of my OB-GYN appointment, only to be crushed by a speeding truck while my husband watched from the opposite curb, not even blinking.
I choked on my own blood before waking up on the exact same street corner.
I thought I had been reborn, but then I saw a glowing red number "4" burned into the skin of my forearm.
What the hell was happening?

The rain glistened over the harbor asphalt the night I meant to tell him I was pregnant — to lay out all my quiet hopes for our wedding and our future. That was the night I was stolen away.
I screamed for help from a city stitched with police tape and hollow warehouses, where every thread of trust had already frayed. The man who should have trusted me brushed my pleas aside.
As answers began to surface, what we once called love soured into guilt, consuming obsession, and cold, calculated cruelty. Blue gemstones glint amid burned‑away proof, storm‑lashed docks bear witness. And I am the voice they will never manage to bury.

I died the day before my brother Beckett’s state equestrian qualifiers.

Just because Beckett had mistakenly taken sedatives and fallen into a coma, my mother firmly believed that I—a worthless, sickly burden—had deliberately poisoned him out of jealousy to ruin her perfect son's future.

Ignoring my fatal immunodeficiency, knowing that even a microscopic trace of wasp venom would kill me, she dragged me into the abandoned tack room infested with wasp nests and locked the door.

Hundreds of wasps swarmed out. My airway rapidly swelled and closed amidst excruciating pain.

Through the wooden door, I heard my newly awakened brother crying and pleading, along with my mother's cold obstruction and curses.

Leaning against the corner of the wall, I slowly released my bloody, mangled fingers that had been clawing at the door.

In the final moments before my consciousness scattered, I finally stopped struggling.

Mother, if dying in this sunless tack room was your final expectation for me, then... as you wish.

On my anniversary flight to New York, fate sat my cheating husband's mistress right beside me.

Alice spent the entire trip gushing about "her Daniel" while wearing the sapphire ring he'd called "too vulgar" for his wife—me.

"She's so pathetic," Alice laughed, describing how Daniel planned to dump his "clingy" spouse. "Good riddance!"

If only she knew his "pathetic" wife was the billionaire secretly bankrolling his success.

At JFK, Daniel threw money at my feet and told me to disappear.

I smiled, dialed my investment firm, and watched his face crumble.

"Hello, darling. Your sugar mama just quit."

I used to be the executive chef at a three-Michelin-star restaurant in New York. Then I worked in my son’s kitchen for three years without being paid a cent.

I sold my old house in Brooklyn to cover the restaurant’s startup costs. I even used my retirement savings to pay for the restaurant’s premium ingredients.

That night, I prepared an entire dinner for eighty guests by myself. By the time I finished, it was after midnight, and my stomach hurt from hunger. My protégé, Leon, cooked me a steak with an extra piece of Wagyu.

I had barely taken my first bite when my daughter-in-law, Jessica, stormed in and knocked the plate to the floor.

“David, get in here! Your mother’s hiding in the kitchen, stuffing herself with our most expensive ingredients!”

Leon jumped to my defense. “Chef paid for that herself!”

Jessica sneered. “With what money? David’s the one supporting her.”

But David hadn’t given me a cent in three years.

I looked at my son, waiting for him to stand up for me.

Instead, he tugged irritably at his tie. “Mom, taking the restaurant’s most expensive food without asking is stealing.”

Jessica pressed harder. “Today it’s beef. Tomorrow she’ll be stealing from the register.”

David nodded. “Just apologize to Jessica, Mom.”

I laughed in disbelief and ripped off my apron.

“Apologize? I quit.”

In my past life, I exposed my cousin Isolde's deadly secret just to save Darius from absolute ruin, binding myself to him in a Soul Pact instead.

My reward?

At three months pregnant, Darius chained me to a water dungeon altar, carved my stomach open alive, and smashed our unborn child to pieces right in front of my eyes—all as a twisted sacrifice to my cousin who supposedly "died for love."

When I opened my eyes again, I was right back at the Pact Selection Ceremony.

Watching him pull her into his arms like some priceless treasure, I simply smiled and took a tactful step back.

In this life, I am going to sit back and watch the two of them burn in hell together.

Three years of marriage. Three pregnancies.

Every time I confirmed I was pregnant, my sister-in-law Ophelia would walk into the chapel behind the manor.

Then my in-laws would drag me to the hospital and force me to abort the healthy baby.

The night after my third miscarriage, I dragged my weakened body to follow her into the chapel.

The moment I pushed open that door, my blood ran cold.

In that instant, I finally understood why my three children had to die.

My husband never wore condoms with me. Said they ruined it for him. So I swallowed birth control pills for four years until they made me sick.
Then I found a half-empty box in his glove compartment. And a thong under his backseat.
That wasn't even the worst part.
The necklace I'd made from my mother's ashes—the one I'd been grieving over losing for a year—was dangling between his twenty-three-year-old trainee's tits. He stole it from our bedroom and gave it to her.
She caught me staring. She smiled.
When I confronted him, he slapped me. Then drove off with her crying in his passenger seat.
Her friends came to my hospital with a livestream, demanding I apologize for "bullying" her.
I led them straight to the parking garage.
They found her on a stretcher. Legs wrapped around my husband. No condom.
The whole internet watched.

As the only daughter of a mafia family, I learned early that trust doesn't come cheap. When my father got sick, he gave me an ultimatum: if I want to take over the family, I have to get married first.

Everyone assumed I'd pick my childhood friend, Vincent Moretti—son of my father's right-hand man. Hell, even I thought so. Until my last life, when he left me to burn.

Father died in an ambush. I was trapped in a metal cage at an abandoned dock warehouse while flames swallowed everything. I begged Vincent for help. He stood thirty feet away, the cage key right by his feet.

"Cat, as long as your father's alive, he'll never give me the family. This isn't personal. It's business."

Sophia was wrapped around him—my so-called best friend. She smiled at me and said she'd take good care of everything.

Before I lost consciousness, I saw a figure in black charging into the flames—Elijah, the bodyguard I'd called "trash" and "a dog."

Then I opened my eyes and woke up a month before my birthday party. This time, I'm giving that position to someone who actually deserves it.

But why is Vincent on his knees at my engagement party, crying and begging me to marry him?

I accompanied my husband, Kieran, down to the Antarctic station’s underground quarantine zone to rescue an ice-bacteria sample at negative forty degrees. Halfway there, he asked me to fetch some data. I was gone for exactly three minutes. When I came back, he had vanished.
The institute staff told me I had gone insane, wandering the halls searching for a husband who had been dead for three years.
They called Kieran’s mentor, Dr. Reiner. Through the phone, the old man wept, swearing that Kieran had fallen into the deepest ice rift in Antarctica three years ago. Not even his bones were recovered.
Branded a lunatic, I was thrown into a sealed bio-containment pod twenty miles away. I became a human guinea pig. Under endless rounds of experimental drugs, my organs failed one by one until I died on that cold metal table.
Then, I blinked. Kieran was standing right in front of me, rushing me to the lab...

I was four months pregnant when the truck hit my car.
I woke up on a gurney outside the OR, bleeding, half-conscious, thinking my husband was saving my life. Then I heard him through the door.
"The baby's gone. Her right hand is finished—her career's over either way. Just take her kidney now and put it in Mia."
My mother agreed. My father told him to switch my architectural draft to Mia's name before Friday.
Mia. The sister they'd raised for twenty years while I was missing. The sister whose body was failing. The sister my husband had apparently been in love with the whole time I was married to him.
I was supposed to die on that table. I wasn't supposed to hear anything.
But my phone was in my coat pocket, and the voice memo app had never stopped recording.
And now I had a choice to make.

For months, my stepsister Mia stole my taste, my nutrition, and my vitality with a mysterious system. While I wasted away to skin and bones, she glowed brighter, stole my career, and took my fiancé.
She thought she could feed on me forever.
But she forgot her fatal allergy. I turned every meal into her poison.
I starved her system, broke her perfect facade, and took back everything she stole. Now the parasite is dying… and I’m alive again.

On the day of my prenatal checkup, I found out my husband, Caleb, was sleeping with his student.
That night, I spiked his Pinot Noir with poison. I watched him collapse, convulse, and take his agonizing last breath. Then, I dragged his body into the basement and sealed it inside an oak wine barrel.
For five years, I raised our daughter, Nora, on my own. I thought the secret would rot in the dark forever.
Until she told me: Daddy speaks to her from under the floorboards every night. His voice sounds muffled, like he’s talking through a thick blanket...

My fiancé accused me of not caring about family.
To appease him, I planned a family vacation.
But the night before we left, he informed me that he'd given my first-class seat to his childhood sweetheart.
And me? He stuck me in coach on a flight flagged for possible terror threats.
Everyone in his family thought I should just go along with it.
That was the moment I woke up.
I tore up the itinerary and booked myself a trip to Hawaii instead.
Then I turned off my phone and let them sweat over the hotel bill.
It wasn't until their reservation got canceled that they finally started to panic.

My boyfriend faked being broke to test me. Three years of it.
When I turned down his last test, I watched him settle his new girlfriend's family debt in one afternoon. Cash he swore he never had.
Told me he'd been rich the whole time. Said he needed to know if I loved him or his money.
Said I failed.
I didn't argue. I just walked out.
Funny thing is, I wasn't broke either. I was the last pureblood heir to the strongest pack on the continent, and I'd been hiding that the whole time too.
Four years later, we ran into each other again. And this time I wasn't hiding anything.

When my fiancée’s medical exam revealed kidney failure, I prepared to sell our home—and even give her one of my kidneys.
Before sacrificing everything, I tested her with one lie.
I told her the dying patient was me.
She canceled our wedding in seconds, refused to return my money, and planned to keep our apartment after my death.
Then she picked up the report and saw the patient’s name.
It wasn’t mine.
It was hers.

"Tomorrow, dress formal. We're going back for the family sit-down."
"Are you going to make our relationship public?"
"Public what? You—as my Consigliere, or... as my mistress."
At the pre-engagement dinner, he picked simple Italian dishes, Black Forest cake, and pink-and-white roses for Amelie. Side by side, they smiled as they reminisced about their "fated encounters," his ears even turning red.
"We kept ‘running into’ each other in high school," she said.
I lowered my eyes with a small, bitter smile—those had all been his carefully designed coincidences.
When the accident happened, he pulled her into his arms first. "Don't be scared. Look at me." I shivered among shattered glass and the smell of blood. He never once looked at me.
Later, with the wedding was half prepared, I returned my signet ring, keys, and comm devices according to family rules, took my parents and emigrated. The sea wind shredded those passed New York nights.

Is this too wrong?
It probably is! But right now, I really don't care.
I let my legs fall open. The big bad black wolf's face finds its place nestled between my legs. Taking a deep breath, he inhales my scent—my arousal—and emits a low, guttural groan. His sharp fangs lightly touch my skin, eliciting a cry from me as sparks surge through my pussy.
Can anyone really fault me for losing control at this moment? For desiring this?
I hold my breath.
The only thing separating the two of us is the sheer fabric of my panties.
He licks me, and I can't hold back a moan.
I brace myself, thinking he might finally pull back—but instead, his tongue licks me again and again, each time faster. Eager.
Then, he suddenly rips my panties at an absurd speed and precision, without causing any harm to my skin. I just hear the noise of the fabric tearing, and when I glance at him, he is already back to licking me.
I shouldn't be feeling this way about a wolf. What is my damn problem?
Abruptly, I feel his licks get gentler, and when I look again at the big black wolf, I realize it's not a wolf anymore. It's Alpha Kaiden!
He's shifted and is now licking my pussy.

🐺 🐺 🐺

Alpha Kaiden, a feared werewolf infamous for his ruthless acts and pleasure in killing every full moon, finds out that his fated mate is none other than a seemingly ordinary human woman, who happens to be his Gamma's chosen mate.
He wants to reject their bond, but fate has other plans. Turns out, the tournament to become the next Alpha King dictates that only Alphas with a mate can enter. That's what leads Kaiden to propose an audacious pretense agreement.
Though initially hesitant, Katherine's heart softens when he makes a precious promise: to protect her small pack from any threat that may arise.
Little does he know that Katherine discovers a hidden strength within herself that is far greater than he could ever imagine.
As the tournament's challenges progress, Alpha Kaiden finds himself irresistibly drawn to the desire to have her presence not only in the competition but also in his bed.

"Nathan," the attractive redhead gasped as the man raked his fingers through her long hair, his fingers gripped at her hips while he took her savagely from behind "Fuck me harder," she begged "I want you..."
Red hair, slender figure, and light makeup - these have always been Nathan's demands for Freya, asking her to dye her hair red, telling her to lose weight, and suggesting how to wear her makeup.
Closing the video on her phone, Freya Wilson reread the text on the email to which the footage was attached:
'Before you get married, you should watch this video,'

What would you do if you received the erotic video involving your soon-to-be husband and other women before your wedding?

In a bold move, Freya chose to reject her ex at the wedding and then leave the pack, even though the cost is becoming a rogue.

When Freya was taken in and offered sanctuary by the Highland Pack, thanks to her dear friend Sienna, she believed her life was finally on an upswing.

Little did Freya know that the Alpha of the Pack, Rufus Crimson was her mate. But there is one small issue, her best friend Sienna is the daughter of Freya's fated mate!

Will Rufus accept Freya as his mate, her being the same age as his daughter? Or will they have to reject each other?

"I want a divorce. "
The day before her third wedding anniversary, Fiona sees her husband walking to the obstetrics wing with his arm around his ex-girlfriend, Rowena. Rowena is pregnant.
Heartbroken, Fiona rejects Micah, her husband, her mate, the Lycan Prince of the Alastair Kingdom, and leaves the pack.

However, to Fiona’s surprise, after being rejected, Micah goes crazy looking for her all over the world.
Until one day, when he sees her walking down the street holding a little girl, he pins her against the wall.
“Is she my daughter?” Micah hisses.

Hazel Foster had been married with Rayan Kingston for three years. Even though Hazel knows that Rayan had only married her because her face looked like his dead girlfriend Evleyn Hamper, she still tried her best to maintain her marriage, because she loved him and believed that maybe one day he also fall in love with her.
However, one day Rayan's ex-girlfriend sister's Oliver Hamper kidnapped Hazel and she almost lost her life, but her so-called husband didn't even come to visit at hospital even once, but asked his assistant Simon to warn Hazel not to cause trouble for him.
Hearing assistant's words, Hazel heart turned cold. Just then her phone buzzed. Olivia had posted a new photo on Instagram.
In the picture, Rayan was carrying her upstairs in his arms—like a scene from some romantic movie. You couldn’t see his face, only his back, but Hazel knew that silhouette anywhere. After three years of marriage, she could recognize him by the way his shoulders moved. That was her husband. The man she’d once believed was hers.
The caption read:
“Twisted my ankle, and someone insisted on carrying me.”
Below, the comments flooded in:
“So sweet!”
“Couple goals!”
“Perfect together!”
Hazel’s hands trembled. Tears stung her eyes. While she’d been fighting for her life, her husband had been playing lover to another woman.
She wiped her tears away quickly. He wasn’t worth it. Not a single drop.
Without hesitation, she called her friend. She didn’t explain much—just asked her to prepare divorce papers. She realized that it was time for her to leave this so-called marriage.


At the courthouse.
Hazel held the divorce certificate and left with her held high. Rayan looked at her back, and sneered, thinking she will certainly regret it and come to him soon.
However, what he didn't know was that the one who was going to regret was not her, but him.

When your husband kept cheating and you're finally divorced,
you somehow had an ONS with your ex's single billionaire dad.
When you two dated, you run into your ex and his gf,
Ex🤨: We're not getting back together even if you beg my father to talk to me.
Dad😡: Son. Come meet your mom

[Contract marriage + Secret crush + Age gap + Daddy]
After a brutal breakup, heartbroken Lina ends up in her best friend's father's bed.
Turns out he's Adrian Storm—the most powerful Alpha in North America, celibate for fifteen years, and… her best friend's dad.
Her friend isn't horrified. She's thrilled.
"You just cracked the untouchable Alpha's iron control."
Adrian proposes a contract marriage: a political wife for him, an escape for her. Simple. Secret.
Until Lina's ex comes crawling back, begging for another chance.
That's when Adrian steps out of the shadows. One arm around her waist. One growl that makes the air tremble.
"Over my dead body. She's mine."
The satisfaction of watching her ex crumble before the most powerful Alpha in the region?
Absolutely priceless.

Age Gap Romance/Arranged Marriage/Strong Heroine/Found Family/Revenge/Slow Burn Romance
Nineteen-year-old Clarice Sullivan was forced by her scumbag father to marry Theodore Grant, a man of thirty-one. On their wedding night, Theodore, transformed into a ravenous wolf, left her utterly exhausted. "I thought you said you couldn't?" she muttered, rubbing her aching lower back. "Aren't men in their thirties supposed to know some restraint?" Theodore, irritated, pinned her down again. "Round two!" he growled.
After marriage, Theodore switched into full protective-and-doting-husband mode.
"Darling, my worthless father is trying to hit me again!"
"Just wait," Theodore snapped, his temper flaring. He promptly dismantled the entire Sullivan family.
"Darling, she drugged me—tried to hand me over to another man!" Clarice pointed accusingly at her wicked half-sister. Theodore's fury erupted. He slapped the woman hard across the face and ensured her reputation was ruined beyond repair.
With Theodore's unwavering devotion backing her, Clarice repaid every slight and cruelty a thousandfold. When others criticized her for being spoiled, Theodore scoffed, "I'm the one who spoiled her—got a problem with that?"

Shana‘s world turned up side down when she realized she was wolfless. However, when Shana got bullied as the wolfless transfer student in a new school, the hot hockey captain suddenly ran to her and lifted her in his arms.


"You were there for me when I needed you. Now, it's my turn to be there for you."
Blinking in astonishment, I found myself staring into the familiar face of Bear—
the chubby-cheeked, infectious-smiled, and brilliantly blue-eyed best friend I had thought I had lost.

"I, Charlotte Jane Attwood of the Crimson Moon Pack, reject you, Knox and Kane Maddox, as my mates and sever my bond to you both and your pack!" I recited, my eyes dancing with my unspoken pain seeing my mates entwined together with a female! A female who was not me!

Shaking my head of the tears I felt threatening to fall from my icy hues. I straightened and waited for them to accept my rejection! But the words that left their lips left me stunned.

"I, Knox Maddox and Alpha to the Crimson moon pack refuse to accept your rejection!" He snarled, slipping from the bed, naked and unashamed to step into me, the female sprawled out on the bed forgotten. Kane was quick on his heels, the pair caging me in a wall of muscle and testosterone.

"You belong to us, Lottie! I, Kane Maddox, Alpha of the Crimson Moon Pack, refuse to accept your rejection."

"Ours!" Knox repeated anger swimming in his baby blues.


Follow the story of Charlotte, Knox and Kane as they try to find their footing in a cruel world filled with betrayal, heartbreak and secret obsessions that threaten to destroy the bonds of brotherhood and love!

“You’re supposed to hate me right now,” I whispered.

Louis’s fingers gripped my chin, his thumb brushing slowly across my lower lip. His voice was low, rough, almost dangerous.

“I do,” he said. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting you.”

My breath caught as I looked into his darkened eyes.

“Then stop pretending,” I whispered, pulling him closer. “Or admit this was never fake.”


In a single devastating night, Serena Reed dies betrayed—only to wake three years earlier with memories of her family’s ruin, her lover’s betrayal, and everyone who destroyed her.

This time, Serena won’t be the victim.

Armed with deadly foresight, she creates the perfect revenge plan: make Louis Maverick—her ex’s brooding best friend and the campus’s untouchable star quarterback—become her fake boyfriend.

He’s supposed to be nothing more than a weapon.

A way to make her ex regret losing her. A pawn in the game she’s determined to win.

But fake dates turn into stolen moments, staged kisses become real, and the line between revenge and love begins to disappear.

Because Louis is more than the charming quarterback everyone sees. Behind his billionaire image lies a world of secrets Serena never expected.

One fake relationship. One dangerous attraction. One chance to rewrite fate.

But falling for Louis Maverick might be the one thing Serena can’t control.