3728 Book(s) Related to dr. frankenstein decides to tell his story because he wants

Im not a big believer in romance. Im certainly not the type of woman to get drunk, meet a guy, and run off to Reno to get married.But Dr. Hottie himself, AKA Jack Stratton, changed all that. Too bad it's all a lie.Our relationship is as fake as a bad spray tan. Its all to show up our mutual exes, make them realize how much they miss us. Can I help it if Jack is so ridiculously handsome, simply being near him makes me blush? And when he smiles at meWell, maybe I shouldve nicknamed him Dr. Panty Dropper.And I admit, part of me is falling head-over-heels in love with him. How can I not be when he keeps telling me we have to spend time together? Keep up the charade. Kiss in private so it looks good when we do it for show.When my ex finally gets the message a month after our wedding, he says that he wants me to leave Jack. Start over. I should be happy.Right?

EROTICA ROMANCE.
RATED 18+.

"Oh my God!" I moan.

"Mmm. Your ass is so fucking tight, baby," he says to me.

He starts thrusting in and out of me harder and faster. I throw my head back and moan louder. The sounds of our skin slapping together and our moans fill his little office. I wonder if maybe people can hear us. It's so fucking hot and I can feel myself getting closer again when he pulls out.

I look back at him and he's grinning. He's fucking with me. He puts his cock up to my pussy and thrusts inside of me. Then he pulls out and does it again. I feel him stick a finger inside of my asshole.

"Mmm," I'm loving this. Every damn second is pure ecstasy. I find that I already want to come again.

He's fingering my asshole and fucking my pussy and the feelings mixed are amazing. I reach around in front of me and begin to rub my clit.

"Are you gonna come again baby?" he asks.

"Yes," I moan and rub myself faster. He starts fucking me harder and deeper, thrusting into me with all of his power. We're moving the desk and either he hasn't noticed or he just doesn't care.

My boyfriend of three years, Blake, had promised to propose at my twentieth birthday party.

But that night, he walked right past me with the ring and got down on one knee in front of my stepsister, Chelsea.

The whole room clapped. I just stood there, frozen, in the white dress I'd picked out for my engagement.

Everyone was just waiting to watch me fall apart.

Then Grayson, heir to the Hale family, pushed through the crowd and took my hand. "I've had feelings for you for years. Marry me."

I said yes.

Five years into our marriage, he still remembered how much cream I took in my coffee, that thunder scared me, and that I needed a lamp on to sleep.

Everyone in town said I was the luckiest woman alive.

Until the day I stood outside his study and heard his childhood friend Derek ask, "Chelsea's Mrs. Mercer now. How much longer are you gonna keep playing house with Elise?"

Grayson sounded completely unbothered. "If I can't have Chelsea, it doesn't matter who I marry. As long as Elise is with me, she won't go messing with Chelsea's marriage."

That night, I opened the locked bottom drawer of his desk.

Inside were cufflinks from Chelsea, a birthday card in her handwriting, and a stack of letters he'd written her but never sent.

The one on top was a single line.

"Just smile at me once and I'll do anything you want."

I took a job out of state. I'd start in two days.

When that day came, I'd walk out of his life for good.

Ethan and I were together for seven years.
But after he chose Annie, he treated me like a zombie that needed to be eliminated.
To save Annie, he threw me to a pack of zombie wolves. Her brother even shot me through the head.
Five years later, I woke up and joined three “crazy” people who had been abandoned by the survivor compound.
They treated me like family.
Then Ethan appeared. His attack killed my new family—and awakened the Zombie King’s power inside me.
He confessed his love while kneeling in a pool of blood.
Then Annie told me she was carrying his child.
That was when I finally understood:
There was nothing left in the human world worth staying for.

In the year 2333, humanity has fallen and ruled by werewolves. Bellatrix Sinclair, an 18-year-old weapons prodigy that despises werewolves for destroying her family has been secretly planning to join the human rebellion.
However, she is forced into the Mate Selection Process and matched with Lazarus De Loughrey, the ruthless Werewolf King obsessed with claiming her.
He shouldn't want her and she should hate him but they cannot resist each other. It's a twisted connection, entirely physical because all I am is his slave.
My heart should belong to my best friend Emmett, a human. Atleast the guilt of betrayal wouldn't be eating away at my insides.


“Yes please.” She begs.
“Then fucking let me in.” I growled, this fury exploding with vengeance. I wanted to destroy her pussy.
It was maddening, it was sickening, it was barbaric.
But I never claimed to be saint.
“Here that baby, that’s the sound of your greedy pussy sucking on my cock. Give me more, drench me.”
“Lazarus.” She moans painfully, “Please let me come.”
I’m doused in gasoline and set alight, sweat coats my skin as I pound into her faster and harder. I’m definitely hurting her, “Wanna come?” I rasped, “Not until I say so.”
Pressing my lips onto hers, pushing my tongue into her mouth until I feel the sweetness of hers. The kiss is sloppy and filthy. She cries as I drive my cock into her, the intensity too much to handle, sweet tears sliding onto her cheeks.
“Fuck yes.” I smile sadistically, licking her tears. “Cry for me Ma Cherie.”
“Please, please let me come My King.” She pleads.
“Say it again.” Lightening shooting down my spine as she begged, “My King, please let me come. I’ll be good.”
I chuckled, “Try your luck to kill me Ma Cherie, I dare you.”

"You were just a tool, Imogene."
Her heart stopped. "And I was foolish enough to believe you cared."
Imogene Scott had always known her place—by Damien Shaw’s side, even when his love was a distant dream. Marrying her only because of an unexpected pregnancy, Damien’s affection never blossomed. Instead, her devotion turned him from a mere sales manager into the billionaire CEO of IMU, one of Europe’s most powerful tech empires. But her sacrifices weren’t enough. After losing their baby, Damien’s coldness deepened, sealing their marriage with an unspoken “no meddling” rule.
Imogene’s reward? Watching Damien parade countless mistresses, all while she buried her own dreams to fuel his. She believed, naively, that one day he’d see her worth. But when he fell in love with her stepsister and served her with divorce papers, Imogene’s world shattered. Realizing she was nothing more than a pawn in Damien’s game, she vanished—pregnant and determined to protect her unborn child.
Three years later, Imogene returns, not as the broken woman who fled but as a renowned artist and mother to their two-year-old daughter. Now, Damien realizes what he’s lost and wants her back. But this time, Imogene is ready to fight, and she’s not making the same mistake twice.

For three years, I was Julian Vance’s perfect shadow.

By day, I was the flawless executive secretary who kept his multi-billion-dollar empire running without a single hitch. By night, I was his secret, contract wife a convenient arrangement kept hidden behind the closed doors of his penthouse to satisfy a dying man's wish. I loved him in the quiet darkness, enduring his coldness, his family’s venom, and the cruel taunts of his elite childhood friend, Victoria.

But three months ago, the illusion shattered. When I was trapped in a hospital room losing our unborn child, Julian was on a red carpet with Victoria. His message to me through his assistant? “Do not interrupt important business meetings with minor domestic emergencies.”

That was the day Vivian Lane died.
The moment our three-year contract expires at midnight, I slide two papers across his mahogany desk: our signed divorce decree and my immediate resignation.

Julian scoffs, arrogant and completely convinced I’ll be crawling back to him within a month when my bank account dries up. He thinks I'm a penniless outcast with nowhere to turn.

He has no idea that while I was playing his submissive secretary, I was quietly building my own foundation. Now, his biggest corporate clients are jumping ship to my new boutique firm, and an international venture capital network has just hired a legendary, anonymous digital strategist known as "The Cipher" to engineer a hostile takeover of Vance Enterprises.

That strategist is me.
As his empire begins to bleed out brick by brick, the billionaire who once looked down on me finally drops to his knees. But I’m no longer his secretary, and I’m no longer his wife. If he wants me back, he’ll have to survive the ruin I’m about to bring to his doorstep.

After one night with the man I'd secretly loved, I told him how I felt.
His response was simple. "What made you think sleeping with me would make me want you?"
I didn't say another word. I just walked out.
I changed my number, moved to another city, and cut him out of my life completely.
Then my roommate, Vanessa, was hospitalized with a high fever.
Her boyfriend drove through the night to see her — the kind of man who could afford to just drop everything.
When he walked into the hospital room, I froze.
It was Adrian Cole.
The man I had spent two years trying to forget.
Except he looked at me without recognition.
"Thanks for taking care of her," he said. "Let me add you. I'll send you whatever you spent."
He had no idea who I was.
And somehow, that hurt more than his rejection ever had.

Our mother died broke. Three months later Camilla Castellano drove down to Atlantic City and offered to take my sister and me into her family.
One of us she would adopt. Her name, her money, her protection for life.
The other would marry her only son, the man who runs that family after her.
We had to pick that night, before either of us had laid eyes on him.
My sister picked first, and she picked daughter. The wife's the one they shoot at, she said. And a woman that rich doesn't come shopping in a place like this unless something is badly wrong with her boy.
Nothing was wrong with her boy.
So I got the son my sister didn't want, and Rafe Castellano spent three years sure I had worked my way to him on purpose. He took the family's accounts off me and handed them to my sister. He told a room full of people that a life with me turned his stomach.
Two weeks before the wedding, I asked his mother to change the bride.
He didn't believe me. He wouldn't come to the church. He signed the license without reading the name above his own.
He lifted the veil that night to tell me he was sorry.
I wasn't the one underneath it.

"Come see our wedding invitations!" I excitedly held up the document folder I'd grabbed from ,my fiancé, Lorenzo's study, showing it off to his men in his private safe house on the Upper East Side.

Lorenzo and I had been running ourselves ragged this month preparing for the wedding.

Lorenzo's guys raised their glasses, waiting to see our custom-designed invitations. I eagerly turned the folder upside down—

Marriage certificates, wedding photos, and a property transfer document came tumbling out onto the floor.

Dead silence.

"Oh, these aren't our invitations..." I was still grinning foolishly. "Must be the wrong folder."

"Let me see which lucky lady is about to become a happy bride."

I looked down at the wedding photo. A beautiful brunette woman in an elaborate white gown smiled from the center of the picture, looking so blissful, so content.

When my eyes shifted to the groom beside her, my world collapsed.

It was Lorenzo. He wore a perfect black tuxedo, but he was tenderly embracing a woman I'd never seen before.

On our fifth Anniversary party, Harris got admitted to the City's Hospital.

Cancer. Stage IV.

I struggled to find words to whisper some comforting words to Harris .

Instead, he held my hands, and said,"It's alright, Darcy."

"Don't be afraid of anything that may happen. Even if I am about to die, I will always be with you."

Even when he was dying, he made sure to comfort me, which bled my heart.

I spent my days researching treatments, draining my savings for "miracle" consultations.

Then came the afternoon I went to his office early to surprise him with the appointment letter with Dr. Wilson, a world famous surgeon.

Harris had been trying to contact him for weeks now. But, everytime he declined him bluntly, only this time when I tried to contact him personally, his assistant reached out to me.

Finally, he had a chance to be saved. I cried tears of joy. I wanted to share this good news with Harris as soon as possible.

But, My hands, almost pushed open the door, , a Lively and joyous laughter echoed through my ears.
"Is the paperwork ready?"

I slightly opened it ajar and peered inside.
I froze on the spot.

Clara was sitting on Harris's lap, clutching to his shoulder like she owned him.

"Everything," Harris' voice sounded, confident and excited.

"By the time 'cancer' takes me, Harris Hudson will be dead, life insurance will be processed, and you and I will be halfway across the world with a clean slate."

Clara. Harris' first love. The one he told me was a 'closed chapter' years ago.

Something broke into my heart.
I froze at my place.

The cancer, the treatment, it was all a lie orchestrated by Harris to elope with Clara?

For three years, Carol Bright was Edward Dawson's secretary and stepsister by day, and his secret lover by night. To him, she was just a game—disposable, forgettable, never meant to be loved.

When Edward announces his engagement to someone else, he expects drama. Instead, Carol disappears from his life without a word.

Now, she's no longer his. She's the heiress of the powerful Bright family—admired, untouchable, and far beyond his reach.

Then he sees her with another man. She slips behind closed doors. The lights go out—and she never returns.

That's when Edward realizes he's made the biggest mistake of his life.

The woman he once thought he owned is now the one he can never have again.

Six weeks after his girlfriend had twins, my husband got himself fixed. He billed it to my insurance.
Then he spent nine years driving me to fertility clinics. Two surgeries. Four rounds of shots. He held my hand every time and told me next time.
The whole town said it was my fault. His mother asked me every Sunday if there was any news.
I died at forty-four. Three days before the end I couldn't open my eyes, but I could hear them over my bed. The girl I bought a purple bicycle for called him Dad.
Then I opened my eyes and I was thirty-four again, on a gurney, waiting for them to open me up one more time.
Last time I lay back down and let them do it. I did it three more times after that.
This time he's paying me back for all nine years, one line at a time.
The nurse asked me to confirm my date of birth. I did. Then I told her I wasn't doing it.

Four years ago, I gave birth to my son, Leo, at a private hospital.
But when I woke up from the anesthesia, there was no baby waiting for me.
Instead, there was a bank card loaded with an enormous amount of money.
I stared blankly at Adrian Moretti, who was standing by the hospital room door.
"Why are you giving me money? Where's Leo?"
He avoided my gaze.
Meanwhile, Serena Vale, who was sitting comfortably on the sofa, burst into laughter.
"I gave it to you. I adore little Leo. He's practically a miniature version of me when I was young."
She lifted her coffee cup and continued leisurely, "I'll be raising Leo from now on. He'll grow up to be the most cherished child in this family."
That was when I finally understood.
Adrian had given the son I'd nearly died bringing into this world to his father's new wife.
And a bank card was supposed to make up for it.
I grabbed the card and hurled it straight at his face.

"Where is my son?"
My husband wouldn't look at me.
I had just come out of anesthesia. The bassinet next to my hospital bed was empty — except for a stack of cash, a christening card, and a ring pinned to the corner of the card.
The card had another woman's name in the godmother box.
That woman walked in behind my husband. She picked up the ring and slid it onto her own finger.
"He's safe, sweetheart. We've been talking about this for months."
My husband is Damiano Marchetti. He runs the family that runs this city. The woman wearing the ring is his father's young widow.
The baby on that card is my son.
For four years now I have been the woman this house pretends not to see. The wife told to use the servants' entrance. The mother of a boy who calls another woman Mommy.
Last night I asked my husband for a divorce.
He laughed in my face.
He has no idea how much that's going to cost him.

“I’ll give you anything, Elsa—money, a car, a house, jewelry—just agree to the transplant. Ria really needs it.” I couldn’t believe his audacity. Was this really my husband, trying to bargain my body to save his fiancée?
“Sorry, I’m pregnant. I can’t donate a kidney,” I said, my voice shaky but determined. Anger boiled inside me, but I knew he was powerful. The pretend marriage was over, and his true colors were revealed. Afraid of what he might do to me, I didn’t yell or fight him. I just wanted to escape this nightmare, to break free from this cage I was trapped in.
But his reaction was even more chilling. He looked at me with no emotion.
“We’ll have an abortion.” His words hit me like a bomb. I couldn’t believe how coldly he spoke about ending his own child’s life.

“How cruel of you! You were the one who left when I was ready to fight for you. I searched the world for you, and now that I found you, you were betrothed to another man. Tell me how! How do I unlove you?”
Tears fall from both our eyes and the next thing we know, we are kissing each other, deeply and passionately, as if the two years of longingness for each other has finally been released.
_
Avery Anderson called "Ava" who is still a virgin in her early thirties is a career-oriented woman. She puts up her own business through her hard work and is envied by a lot of women because of her seven-year-long relationship with Seigfried Cohen, a hot bachelor in an accounting firm. Their relationship starts to fall apart as they get into a heated argument because of Ava's unfathomable sexual drive.
Determined to lose her virginity, she travels to Austria to unwind and get laid to whoever finds her attractive. There, she encounters a guy named Dmitri, a gorgeous sexy billionaire: an encounter that shouldn't have happened in the first place.
She will then, know a world, that she never expects to get addicted to.

"Get rid of it. Or I'll tell the world it isn't mine."

That's what my husband said, three hours after I showed him the pregnancy test.

Nobody knew Chase Holloway was married. His father, a Hall of Fame quarterback, said a secret wife from a trailer park would ruin his draft stock. So for five years I stayed hidden.

That same afternoon, Chase signed a $300 million contract and announced his engagement to Madison Sterling, heiress to the biggest sports network in America.

I didn't get rid of anything. I disappeared.

Five years later, I'm back. I'm the new sideline reporter for Madison's network, and my first assignment is Chase's MVP season.

In the tunnel before kickoff, a little boy in a number 54 jersey runs past the cameras, and the most famous quarterback in America sees his own face looking back at him.

Number 54 is Zeke Monroe, the linebacker who quit Chase's team the night Chase threw me out, and the man who has been my son's godfather ever since.

Chase wants an heir now. His fiancée can't give him one.

But he's about to learn a few things. I kept every receipt, the divorce his father "filed" was a forgery, and legally, I'm still his wife.

On their third wedding anniversary, Ava's life takes a heartbreaking turn when she discovers her husband's shocking betrayal: he’s been having an affair with her stepsister, Autumn. Devastated and feeling lost, Ava realizes the love she gave him was met with betrayal and deceit.
Now pregnant and facing heartbreak, she decides to file for divorce. Just when she thinks she can finally move on, Jerome, her ex-husband, returns, begging for a second chance and claiming he was just a pawn in Autumn's cruel game. Will Ava take a leap of faith and give love another shot, or is it time to close the door on the past for good?

On our wedding night, he proposed an open marriage.

That was the first and most serious mistake I made in my life.

Killian Crestwood leaned back against the leather seat of his Maserati, a smirk tugging at his lips like he was doing me a favor.

“I’ll settle down eventually,” he said. “Just… not now. Not until I’ve had my fill of fun.”

I stared at him, too stunned to speak.

“And speaking of fun…” He ran a hand through his dark hair, the gold ring on his finger glinting under the streetlights. “One of my mistresses hit someone while drunk driving. The guy’s family is threatening to go public. You're going to take the blame.”

My blood ran cold. “Excuse me?”

He pounded the steering wheel, his voice tight with frustration. “They’ll listen to you. Just say you were behind the wheel.”

“No,” I snapped. “I’m not covering for your mistress.”

He shot me a sharp look, then opened the car door. “Then let’s just get a divorce.”

I drove through a snowstorm to bring my son his asthma inhaler, only for my car to plunge down a slope.

Bleeding and trapped, I called my husband twenty-seven times. My own son rejected every call, then blocked me. They were taking family photos with my husband's former fiancée and did not want me—his real mother—interrupting them.

I got off work two hours early, hoping to surprise my boyfriend whom I had just bailed out for $30,000.
I pushed the bedroom door open. The surprise was on me—my stepsister Chloe was straddling Dorian. The same man who, just three days ago, sat crying on the police station floor swearing "I only have you," now slowly lit a cigarette and asked if I wanted to join them.
I thought that was the worst moment of my life.
I was wrong.
When the hand that had just been caressing Chloe gripped my throat and hoisted me into the air, I finally saw the truth. Dorian Vane, the guy who humiliated me at our high school prom ten years ago, hadn't changed at all.

The day I woke from the coma, the man I'd loved for seven years handed me to someone else.
I could have exposed him with one sentence. I didn't.
Dorian and I had been together since college. His best friend Silas had never once pretended to like me.
But that day, Dorian stood at my bedside, pointed at Silas, and said, "He's your boyfriend."
And nobody in that room thought there was anything wrong with that.
I believed him. At least, I made it look that way.
That night, I moved into Silas's villa — and then I heard the phone call.

The night before graduation, a confession post blew up the school forum:
“Daphne, I’m gonna rip up my Harvard offer onstage during commencement to confess to you—my whole college future as my love token.”
The OP bragged nonstop in the comments that he’d locked down the state’s only full-ride Harvard scholarship, his admission was a done deal, and graduation was nothing but a meaningless formality anyway.
The attached photo showed their interlaced hands. That old burn scar on his forearm—the one he’d claimed he got saving me—stared back like a chain that’s trapped me for ten years straight.
I poured every cent, every spare hour and all my academic resource just to get him into Harvard. I even voluntarily stepped down from the scholarship race and passed the spot to him.
This childhood sweetheart who’d sworn we’d go to Harvard together only hours ago threw every promise out the window for a rich transfer student, willing to gamble both our futures just for a dramatic grand gesture.
I shut the forum tab, pulled up my email to the scholarship committee.
I’m formally taking back the scholarship spot I gave up！

Five years. That's what I gave Vaelor, Crown Prince of the Dark Elves.
I was already dressed for the betrothal ceremony when I caught his voice through the gap in the council hall door.
"You're really going through with it? The human?"
"Of course. The Alliance has kept a blade at our throats for years. Their leader's apprentice, given to us in marriage—that puts it away."
"But if she suspects—"
"She won't."
"And Lyseth—"
"Lyseth is who matters. The human is manageable."
I didn't make it out of the courtyard. A blade came from the darkness before I could summon a defense.
When I woke up, I remembered everything. Aldric. Isara. The Alliance. Five years of roads, every step.
Just not his face.
Aldric's messenger stone was on the nightstand. Short, direct: Return to the Alliance. Political marriage. Orc Royal House.
I wrote back: Seven days.

He reached down and found her clit and gently massaged it. She was a virgin, so he tried to control his urge to drive himself into her. He spread her legs even further giving her a questioning look. She smiled and nodded her head. He put himself into her and slowly and gently pushed, he did not want to hurt her.


Nirka is a hybrid, She is the ruler of her Realm. She learns that her father is holding a town meeting in the Royal Council Hall to discuss whether they should help the human race or let it destroy its self. She wants to save humanity, but she falls in love with Devon after rescuing him he is total infatuated with her.

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.

My boyfriend looks at me like I'm trash. Too fat. Too plain. My clothes are ugly. He never misses a chance to tear me down.

I thought he was just mean. Then his "good friend" Sophie spilled coffee all over our ten-thousand-dollar control board.

That board was three months of work. Three months of all-nighters, twice I passed out from low blood sugar. It was our entry for the National Robotics Competition. The deadline's tomorrow. Now it's gone.

I confronted Sophie, and he stormed in, pulled her into his arms, and pointed his finger in my face. "It's just a stupid competition. Did you really need to come at Sophie like that?"

Turns out he's not just mean. He genuinely can't stand me.

In front of me, Daniel kissed his childhood sweetheart.

He said he married me only for the benefits, without any feelings for me.

He even threatened me to give his sweetheart a heart transplant.

I agreed.

But after the transplant, he regretted it. I, however, smiled.

After I found out about the secret admirer he’s been talking to for the past two months the, he throws divorce papers at my face after being married for six months. He claims that his admirer would give him half of the Williamson cooperation. He thinks I’m the naive middle class woman he married but what he doesn’t know is I’m the owner of the Williamson Cooperation, the company I inherited from my father’s as his only child just before he died. Throws out of the house, I decided to reclaim my power and move back to my estate. I hosted a convention where the secret admirer would be handing him the properties and I put everyone in shock when I show up and they find out it’s me. Richard begs at my feet for mercy but I totally ignore him and choose his personal assistant who has always been good to me from the very day I stepped into Richard’s mansion as his wife

Boomer’s story is about a boy split into three lives — before, during, and after Penelope Vales. Before her, he was just a kid running from a broken past, enlisting in the army to prove himself and earning his nickname through failure, grit, and loyalty. During her, he fell quietly, painfully, for the girl he could never have, standing beside her boyfriend and forcing himself to swallow what he felt while still protecting her in every way he could. After her, and after things crumbled with Mila, he’s left adrift — no uniform, no love, no clear identity — and has to learn how to rebuild himself piece by piece, to stop defining his worth by battles or by people he couldn’t keep, and finally figure out who he is when all that’s left is him.

On the day of our mate bond, Alpha Samuel decided we were going to be a childfree couple himself.
He held my hand and said affectionately, “No kids. I only want you.”
However, he came home with a pup in his arms later.
He claimed a friend had died, leaving the child alone, and asked us to take him in “just for a while.”
I didn’t make a scene. I didn’t demand answers. I didn’t even ask twice.
I kept cooking and cleaning, swallowed the unease and told myself to trust him.
Until that night, when I asked him where my dog had gone.
He didn’t answer. He set a bowl of dog meat soup in front of me instead.
He said my spirit dog could hurt the pup. But the spirit dog could sense bloodline, its growl wasn’t for that pup. It was for the lie he’d been hiding for three years.
At that moment, I finally understood: the pup he called “alone in the world” carried the exact same blood as him.
So our agreement was a lie and the so called childfree was an excuse.
And he’d already arranged what my ending was like when the day I agreed to bond with him.

Three years ago, I married the man I love most, and I thought we would always be happy for the rest of our lives.

But that woman returned home and my husband's heart was taken from her again.

I was wrongly accused, insulted, and I lost everything, but I still couldn't get his heart back.

I finally decided to get a divorce, but he changed his mind again ......

Larry and Angel had been secretly married for six months—bound by a contract neither of them had ever expected to become real. To the public, they were nothing more than close friends. No one knew they were husband and wife.

Their marriage had never been built on love. Larry agreed to the arrangement because the contract benefited Angel, promising to protect her from her ruthless stepfather. But without love, their relationship slowly deteriorated. Day by day, the distance between them grew until their marriage became little more than a ticking time bomb. Then Angel made a terrible mistake.

She cheated on Larry unintentionally. She had too much to lose. Her protection, her freedom, and the carefully constructed life she'd fought so hard to preserve were all at risk.

Desperate, she swallowed her pride and begged Larry.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I'll do anything. Just name it.”

Larry stared at her for a long moment.

Then he said the one thing she never expected.

“I want him too, I want Matteo.”

Angel was visibly shocked, but Larry's expression remained unreadable.

“Marry him for me.”

She thought it was nothing more than a one-night mistake — not knowing she had long since become an obsession he couldn't shake.

Emily was just an ordinary woman, yet she stumbled into Evan's world by chance. He was cold, domineering, and untouchable — and yet, time and again, he lost control in front of her. He said he needed to restrain himself, yet he appeared at her most vulnerable moments again and again. He said he felt nothing for her, yet in the instant she trembled and broke into tears, he gently pressed his forehead against hers — "I'll admit it. What I feel for you is different."

But who, exactly, was the "you" he spoke of?

Her name, her body, every sound she made — he said they were identical to someone else's.

Was she a substitute? Or the one he truly wanted, buried somewhere deep inside him?

As desire and secrets became entangled, as the closeness of flesh could no longer silence the questions in her heart, Emily began to realize — this man's reasons for drawing near to her may never have been impulse alone, not from the very beginning.

"Are you really Emily?"

"She was MINE before. How could I have known she would find another man so quickly?"
Dresden Wade was pretty sure the goddess was punishing him. Married for half a decade to his childhood sweetheart without a child, he is desperate for a chance to fight his wrongs when he sees her again.
His TRUE mate. The woman he scorned and humiliated all those years ago.
Except that now, she is standing holding hands with another Alpha.
Mara Reid wants nothing to do with the surly, arrogant Alpha that used to be her mate. He had made the earlier parts of her adulthood traumatic to say the least.
So why did meeting him again feel like coming home?
Why did her traitorous heart skip whenever he called her name?

On the night of her tenth wedding anniversary, Evelyn Ashford bled out on her own marble floor—poisoned by the husband she spent a decade building an empire for.
With her dying breath, she learned the horrifying truth:

Her marriage was a lie. Her best friend was his mistress. And the son she raised wasn't hers. Her biological child had been stolen at birth, abandoned somewhere in the country’s vast orphanage network while her husband quietly drained her fortune.

Then, her eyes snapped open.

Evelyn wakes up three years in the past, her memories intact and the taste of poison still fresh on her tongue. This time, she isn't playing the dutiful wife. She is playing the predator.

To destroy her husband's empire and recover her stolen son, Evelyn strikes a dangerous bargain with the three powerful titans of Blackwood Enterprises—Gale’s fiercest rivals:

Darren Blackwood: The cold, ruthless CEO who rules the corporate underworld, Aaron Whitmore: The brilliant financial genius who locks down her assets and Caleb Sinclair: The charismatic strategist who turns public relations into a weapon.

What begins as a cold business alliance quickly ignites into something far more intoxicating—and dangerous. Because as Evelyn uncovers the secrets of her past life, she realizes her rebirth was no accident… and the three men standing guard over her were bound to her long before fate rewound the clock.

In her past life, she gave everything and died a victim.

In this lifetime, she’s taking everything back.

I was the last of the Holy Bloodline. To the Nocturne Clan, I wasn't a Princess—I was a walking incubator, a terrified blood slave bound by the lowest pact to breed their pureblood heirs.
"I promise you... the next child you bear, I will let you raise yourself," my husband,the Vampire Prince, whispered, holding our newborn son wrapped in his sister-in-law's blanket.
He used my body as a shield against silver blades to protect his sister-in-law.
For nine years, I endured the silver whips, the boiling sunlight, and the agony of watching my babies handed over to another woman.
But when I discovered my husband was the very monster who slaughtered my families, I shattered heart turns to ash.
So, I give him exactly what he deserves—a pile of scorched ashes in a dark prison cell.
By the time the Vampire Prince realizes he cannot live without his wife, I am already “dead”.

I hid my identity and pretended to be a country bumpkin by Christopher's side, caring for him and healing him. I never expected that the first thing Christopher would do after his recovery was dump me.

On the day my half-sister and I shared our birthday, he made a grand appearance at her party while leaving me to be mocked and ridiculed by everyone: "A country bumpkin doesn't deserve to be Christopher's wife. Go back to the countryside where you belong."

I just smiled. If not for repaying the debt I owed Christopher, I would never have stayed here in the first place. Any one of my hidden identities was someone they could only look up to.

No one expected I'd have the backbone to throw the divorce papers in Christopher's face, declaring that I was the one leaving him!

Dante Ashford is my stepbrother, and the one person I should never have fallen in love with.

When I was ten, my parents died saving his family. The Ashfords took me in. He was good to me back then. Somewhere along the way, I fell for him.

When I was eighteen, he nearly died in an ambush. I donated blood, then a kidney to save him. I was unconscious for three days. When I woke up, Vivian Ross sat by his bed—and he believed she was his savior.

After that, he pushed me away. Vivian became his fiancée.

In my past life, Vivian's crimes brought disaster to our family. Dante got on his knees and begged me to take her punishment. I refused. She died anyway. Then he pretended to love me, planned our wedding—and on that day, his assistant announced to everyone: "This wedding was a lesson to show Miss Elena Hayes what it feels like to be abandoned by the whole world."

I jumped from the church balcony.

When I opened my eyes, I was back at that moment—him on his knees, begging.

This time, I said yes.

Dante, from now on, we're done.

On the way to the hospital to deliver my baby, rain was coming down in sheets.
Suddenly, my husband slammed on the brakes. He'd spotted his ex-girlfriend standing in the downpour with her child.
"She's struggling as a single mom. I'm just going to help her carry those groceries upstairs. Ten minutes, tops."
Clutching my belly through the contractions, I begged him, "But I'm about to give birth. I'm in so much pain."
He just locked the car doors with a click, his voice sharp with annoyance.
"Sarah, can you try to be a little more empathetic? She's soaking wet."
In those ten minutes, my water broke. Desperate to survive, blood on my hands, I crawled out through the back hatch.
While I was fighting for my life in the ER—
His ex posted a snapshot.
In the video, my husband was gently toweling off her hair. The caption read:
[So glad you're here.]

On my husband's birthday, I took our seven-year-old son to his hotel in Italy to surprise him.

Our son never saw his father. Instead, he met Sophia, the woman who called herself the "lady of the hotel." She framed him for theft, stepped on his hand, snapped his epinephrine injector in half, and forced him to eat a hazelnut cake that could kill him.

When the doctor my father sent placed our son on a stretcher, my husband finally returned.

He did not look at the child on the stretcher. He stepped past him and pulled Sophia into his arms.

"Who hurt my woman and my baby?"

Only when he saw me standing there with my bruised face did all the color drain from his own.

Alexander Fitzpatrick, furniture designer, company director, single, is not looking for a girlfriend, but for hostesses to keep all women off his back.

Emily Saron, accountant, trainer, single, is not looking for a partner, but is looking forward to her future position as chief accountant at Fitzpatrick Designs.

Alexander gets a hostess who is not a hostess.

Emily becomes exactly that hostess he never wanted.

The fact that Oliver, as the mediator, can't keep his hands off Emily and that Dominik, as the owner of the castle, also wants to get into the erotic game makes the whole story really spicy.

The night my childhood fiancé humiliated me in front of our entire senior class, I didn't cry.
I just went home and made two decisions.

Lose the 60 pounds.
Secretly reject my Princeton acceptance.
I erased his number, packed my bags, and vanished from his toxic orbit. Nathan thinks he won.
He thinks he finally shook off the "burden" his parents forced on him.
But what happens when the girl you spent your whole life running away from... becomes the only woman you can't live without?

Five years ago, James publicly called off their engagement and personally sent Nora to prison.
On the day of her release, James dragged her to the hospital: "Evelyn was in a car accident and needs a kidney transplant. Give her your kidney."
She had congenital heart disease - donating a kidney would be a death sentence. When she refused, James used every means to force her.
On the day she entered the operating room, her heart stopped and resuscitation failed. It was said that James, who had desperately wanted her dead, cried at her grave for three days and nights.
Later, James saw Nora again at the Smith family home.
She was already married to his older brother Michael, holding a five-year-old child, having become Michael's beloved and pampered little wife.
James: "Nora, I know I was wrong."
Michael: "Get lost. This is your sister-in-law."

My due date was any day now.

My husband, Ethan, had promised to stay home with me tonight. Then, out of nowhere, he grabbed his car keys.

"I'm going over to Vanessa's tonight to watch her kid. She has to work late."

I stared at him, stunned.

"I could go into labor any minute. There's no one else here. You're going to leave me alone to go to your ex-girlfriend's?"

He glanced at my belly, clearly annoyed.

"I told you ahead of time, didn't I? What more do you want? Don't make it into something dirty."

The door slammed shut.

And that night, of all nights, my water broke.

Every call I made to him went straight to voicemail.

Meanwhile, Vanessa's Instagram stories kept updating with pictures of him playing with her little girl.

I got through labor alone.

But the moment my heart truly died came a few days later.

A car lost control and crashed into a restaurant. He grabbed his ex and her child and ran, leaving me and our baby in the wreckage.

That's it. This marriage is over.

“Did you ever love me?” Summer Hayes asked her husband once.

Kieran Cross never answered.

For two years, Summer believed their marriage was revenge—cold touches, ruthless control, and silence sharp enough to wound. The billionaire boy she ignored in high school had finally made her pay for it.

Until the night he died saving her.

As their yacht sank beneath freezing waves, Kieran shoved her onto the rescue boat, blood on his lips, and mouthed the words he’d never said before:

“I love you.”

By the time Summer understood the truth, he was gone.

Three years later, destroyed by grief and PTSD, she crashes her car—and wakes up at sixteen.

This time, her mother is alive.
And Kieran is not the untouchable billionaire she remembers, but a poor scholarship student everyone overlooks.

Quiet. Exhausted. Starving himself to support his deaf little sister.

When no one offers him a seat, Summer does.

Because this lifetime, she’ll save the boy who died for her.

But falling for Kieran again may uncover the devastating truth behind the man he became—and why loving her always seems to end in tragedy.

In the seventh year of our long-distance relationship, I quit my job in New York and dragged my suitcase back to Boston.
But I punched in the door code three times, and it was wrong all three times.
The door opened from the inside.
It was my best friend, Paige Monroe.
She was wearing a man's white dress shirt. The hem barely reached the tops of her thighs.
I recognized that shirt. It was the one I'd given Nathan last Christmas.

After my eighth trip to the psychiatric ward, I finally became the perfect, obedient wife my husband always wanted—even when I caught his childhood friend giving him a handjob in our living room.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Eric snapped, his eyes dark with irritation. "If those hands are useless, might as well chop them off." Without a word, I grabbed a kitchen knife and raised it toward my wrist. He kicked it away, screaming at me to stop being dramatic. So, I turned and charged headfirst toward the floor-to-ceiling window.

When I woke up, I heard him laughing with her. "She's fine. Just another attention stunt." He didn't know that the "treatment" he authorized had broken my mind into a million jagged pieces. He didn't know about the shock collars, the waterboarding, the dark cells. He thought I was finally "cured" of my jealousy.

It wasn't until a rafting trip, when his friend pushed me into the rapids and my prosthetic eye popped out and rolled across the deck, that his world shattered. As he stared at the empty black socket where my left eye used to be, he finally realized what those facilities had done to me. He dropped to his knees, screaming my name, but the woman who loved him was already dead.

Will his tears be enough to bring back the wife he destroyed, or is this just the beginning of his hell?