Is Sleep, My Child, Forever Worth Reading?

“If you ever call that bastard my child again, I will yank it out of your belly!” My heart shatters like a knife plunged deep. I stay still, my body shaking. “Now sign these papers and get out of my life!” he barks, throwing the papers at me. “If I ever see you close to me or my territory, I will have you beheaded in the most painful way imaginable!” **** Isla Monroe had given up everything: her dreams, her wishes, even her best friend; just to please her cold, distant husband. She endured the silence, the neglect, the loneliness, hoping that one day he would change… that he would finally look at her as something more than just the trophy wife. The day she learned she was pregnant, Isla was accused of an affair with the gardener. The staff turned on her, her family cast her out, and Marcus believed them without question. Saving her unborn babies was more important than proving her innocence, so Isla left quietly. “From now onwards, I will be your mother and your father. I will never let those who discarded us come close to you.” She fled the city. Five years later, Marcus runs into two identical little children who look just like him. They have his red lips and deep blue eyes. He is instantly drawn to them. “Little one, who is your mother?” The children point to Isla, the wife he discarded, now powerful and determined to keep him from her children. “Get away from my children!” she hisses, urging the nannies to take them away. “Didn’t I tell you not to speak to strangers, my babies?” Marcus is shocked. But what will he do when he finds out she is married to his blood, his rival? Drama with a twist.

Don’t Stop, Daddy An addictive dark erotic romance of secrets, power, and forbidden desire. Sierra Blake was always the good girl. The obedient daughter. The quiet one who never crossed the line. But when she returns home from college, everything changes because her stepfather, Damien Steele, sees her differently now. And the worst part? She wants him to. Damien is powerful, dominant, and dangerously off limits. Married to her mother. Her protector. Her sin. He shouldn’t look at her like that, speak to her like that, touch her like that. But when he does, Sierra can’t bring herself to stop him. What begins as a game of stolen glances quickly spirals into nights of whispered commands, velvet ropes, and aching surrender. Every kiss is a betrayal. Every moan, a deeper fall. And the closer they get, the harder it becomes to hide. Because her mother sleeps down the hall. And secrets like these always find their way into the light. He’s the man she should fear most. But all she can whisper is… don’t stop. Was

The seventh time Dante Moretti served me divorce papers, I was sitting with my son in a cheap diner on Chicago's South Side. I forced a smile and brushed my hand over my son's hair. "Just wait a little longer, sweetheart. This time, Mommy will get custody of you." He stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he looked up and asked, “Mommy, how much do you need to sell me for before you're happy?” Before I could answer, he pulled a handwritten divorce agreement from his backpack and pushed it toward me. "I know you keep fighting Dad for me because you want more money from him." "I wrote the agreement for him. Please sign it. Dad is already tired. Stop making his life so hard." His handwriting was crooked, but every word had been written with care. Dante would give me three million dollars. At the bottom, in my son's childish scrawl, was one more line. [After you take the money, don't bother me, Dad, and Serena anymore. Let us be happy.] Serena was Dante's childhood sweetheart. The woman he trusted more than his own wife. For five years, I had stood against Dante's family, his lawyers, and half the Chicago underworld just to keep custody of my son. For him, I would've walked away with nothing. But the child I had raised for eight years had already chosen another mother. So why shouldn't I give their perfect little family exactly what they wanted?

Diane Mercer has the perfect life, a loving husband, a brilliant four-year-old daughter, and a beautiful home by the lake. But perfection is a mask. Craving the passion her marriage lacks, Diane begins a dangerous affair fueled by lust and cocaine. When her two worlds violently collide one ordinary Thursday morning, the consequences are far worse than she ever imagined. What follows is a descent into psychological torment, betrayal, and supernatural horror that spans years. As guilt and paranoia consume her, Diane discovers the terrifying truth: some mistakes don’t end with death. They only begin there. Raw, relentless, and brutally intimate, Rest, Honey is a chilling exploration of desire, guilt, and the horrifying prisons we build with our own hands. A story that will haunt you long after the final page, because sometimes the worst thing you can see… is exactly who you’re becoming.

After dropping the big news of my pregnancy on my husband, Maxwell Ford, who loves me to the moon and back, I expect him to burst into tears out of elation. But I don't expect him to harbor a slightly guilty look. "I'm sorry, Val. I'm still not ready to become a father just yet. Can we only work on having another child after a few more years?" Although I can't bear to part with my unborn baby, I still go through a medical abortion obediently. Three years later, I accidentally witness Maxwell holding another woman's hand as they pick up a little girl from kindergarten. With a wide smile on his face, Maxwell picks up the girl and says, "It's your third birthday today, sweetheart! Why don't I give you the position as the only heiress to my company as your birthday gift?" As I stare at the family of three walking away from me, I feel as though I've been plunged into an icy abyss. It turns out that Maxwell is lying about not being ready to become a father. He just doesn't like the child that I bear…

The day I signed the divorce papers, I voluntarily gave up custody of my daughter. Because that day, in the courtroom, she clung to her father’s neck, sobbing with all the fury a six-year-old could muster: “You don’t even love me… do you? If you leave Daddy, I’ll stay with him… and you’ll be all alone forever!” In my past life, I had ignored her childish threats. I fought tooth and nail for her custody. I poured every ounce of myself into raising her. And yet… she spent her entire life hating me. Not once did she ever call me “Mom” until the day I died. On her wedding day, she even invited her father’s mistress to the stage to give a speech of thanks. Now, opening my eyes again, seeing that same cruel little face staring back at me, I simply nodded. “I don’t care.” After all… I never wanted a daughter like her anyway.