Is The Stolen Girls Based On A True Story?

“Okay let me rephrase the question, why did you just kidnap me?!” I ask unaware if he wasn’t quite keeping up with what was happening! “I wouldn’t call it kidnap; I was simply taking what is mine.” He replies with a dangerous look in his eye, I take a step backwards from shock and also, quite a bit of fear for a second. “I’m not sure what you think is going on here, but I can assure you that I’m not yours.” I tell him point blank, I don’t know what day and age he thinks we’re living in but nowadays, you can’t just go around and claim someone is yours. “I can assure you, every inch of you belongs to me, your whole being is mine.” He says in a growl like tone, his eyes seeming to go a shade darker as he spoke. ~~ Liv and her friends plan a weeks gateway in a hidden cabin in the woods, all of them needing a break from the year they had endured. But none of them would have guessed the real outcome of the trip. The day soon rolls around for them all to head home, but that wasn’t where Liv would end up. She takes one last walk around the property when she’s grabbed from behind and taken deep into the woods. She’s sucked into a world of mates, wolves, and terrifying vampires. Stories of an unknown Luna who was to save the werewolf kind as a whole were told to Liv on numerous occasions. But maybe those stories were not just fairytales. Can she learn to accept her mate and fight for her new life? Who will she succumb to the dangerous creatures that lurk outside the borders?

Gracie Miller's father is a big time fraudster— scamming rich people for a living. At least until he crosses the wrong people. The infamous Black Silver Cartel with control over the European black markets. A mafia cartel. To prevent her father from being killed, Gracie is taken as hostage by the leader of this cartel, Raymond Silver. But then when sparks begin to fly, can Gracie overlook the fact that— she's falling for her kidnapper?

On the day I rejected Isabelle Hale, Wall Street's newest golden girl, everyone thought I had lost my mind. She had everything: a Wharton degree, a national finance championship, a perfect family name, and a résumé polished enough to make doors open before she even knocked. But I knew what was hiding behind that name. Fifty years ago, her grandfather stole my grandmother's acceptance letter, her New York scholarship, and the future she had earned with her own hands. He used them to escape an Appalachian coal town with another woman, then built himself into a celebrated Ivy League professor who lectured rich students about ethics. My real grandmother, Grace Walker, was left behind in coal dust and shame. My mother grew up carrying the weight of that stolen life. They lifted me out anyway. I made it all the way to Manhattan, to a glass conference room at Northbridge Capital, where Isabelle sat across from me in a black suit tailored like victory. She thought her family name would protect her. She thought I would bow. Instead, I closed her file and said, "You didn't pass." By the next morning, they had fired me, dragged my name through the mud, and turned a press conference into my public trial. They forgot one thing. I didn't climb to the top of Wall Street to beg for a seat at their table. I came to take back every name, every chance, and every voice they stole from women like us.

On the seventh day after my daughter goes missing, I kidnap an entire kindergarten. I lock away all 27 students and two teachers in a classroom. I tell the police that if they can't find my daughter, I will kill a kid every 30 minutes. The principal falls to her knees, wailing and begging, "It's not my fault that your daughter is missing. Why should other children pay for it?" I glance at my watch. "29 minutes left. Find her." I know she's in this kindergarten.

After fifteen years away, I was finally brought back to the DeLuca family. I thought I was returning to my real home. Instead, I walked into a house where the adopted daughter wanted me dead, my father treated me like a burden, and my brothers would rather watch me bleed than make her cry. On my first day back, she set dogs on me. That night, I was dragged to the top of the observatory and forced to apologize to her. When I fell from the tower covered in blood, they still called me a liar. Because in the DeLuca family, I may have been the real daughter by blood— but she was the daughter they loved. She thought she could bully me, poison me, and freeze me to death without consequence. She was wrong. Because the night I nearly died, my mother finally chose me—and turned a gun on the whole DeLuca family.

The night before my wedding, I caught my fiancé, Miguel Sheffield, kissing the Newells' biological daughter in the garden. I stood there with my pregnancy test in hand, my chest hollow. The next day, the wedding went on. Flowers lined the red carpet. Guests lifted their champagne glasses. But the bells rang again and again, and the bride never showed. The daughter the Newells had raised by mistake left only her engagement ring on the vanity. Then she vanished. I moved overseas and raised my child alone. I cut off everyone from my past. Five years later, I came home. And one by one, they walked right back into my life.