A Fracture In The California Sun

When Kira Jones finally decides to take a sixweek summer vacation, her best and only friend, Samantha, drags her into a trip out of California. What awaits in the way is something Kira has never fathomed at all, as her life gets a serious turn. She meets a mysterious ranch owner whom her friend already has eyes for, and Kira finds herself drawn near him in a very strange way. What will win in the end between the power of love and friendship?

A marriage arranged between two broken souls was never meant to work. Melinda Diamond never had the chance to heal from the trauma of her past before she was thrust into marriage with a scarred man she barely knew. Kenneth Diego hadn’t even recovered from the ruins of his first marriage before being forced to take another wife, for reasons bigger than himself. Both burdened by scars that run deep, they are like night and day, two people who never should have met, never should have been bound by vows, never should have shared the same fate. And yet, here they are. Will their fragile bond survive the weight of their pasts, or will loving each other become the very thing that destroys them?

I was a brilliant artist. But I crushed my right hand saving my mafia husband, Vincent, and my ability to create died with it for three years. Vincent promised he'd make me whole again. Our private doctor swore he was doing everything he could. But my hand remained numb, useless. Then, one day, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world. "Make sure she can never create again," Vincent told the doctor. "I can't have Isabella threatening Sophia's place in the art world!" "But, Mr. Torrino, another procedure might... she could lose the hand for good." "I don't care what happens to her! Sophia saved my life. I will not let her down!" It turned out my husband was the one who had destroyed me. And the assassin, Sophia, was the woman he truly loved. He let her claim my designs, turning her into the art world’s new darling while I was trapped in a broken body. When I confronted him, pregnant with our child, he slapped me in public and told the world I was losing my mind. That night, I burned everything that bound me to him. Then I dialed an encrypted number I hadn't used in what felt like a lifetime. "Grandpa. In three days, I need to disappear."

The day high school seniors across Cedarhaven received their college decisions, my own graduation ceremony had just ended. Adrian Hawthorne came to meet me outside the campus with Celeste Monroe, his newly divorced former sister-in-law. He had barely offered me the sunflowers in his hand when Celeste brushed them aside with a laugh. "Sunflowers? You could try harder if you're courting a young woman." Adrian smiled and handed the bouquet to her. "Then you choose. Clara will like whatever you pick." I stood beside them without finding a place in the conversation. Celeste patted his shoulder. "Your tie is crooked. There are too many people here for you to embarrass me." Adrian lowered his head and let her straighten it. After the graduation photographs, he drew Celeste close and told me, "You're good with a camera. Take a few more pictures of us." For three years, every movie meant for two came with a third ticket, and every anniversary dinner had been chosen around another woman's restrictions. I had protested before, but whenever the argument ended, I was always the one Adrian set aside. Then Celeste accidentally left her phone in my purse, and I saw the photograph on her lock screen. Across the image were the words: July 2 - finally free. The same date was engraved beneath Adrian's watch. He called impatiently, "Clara, hurry. Celeste can't wait all day." I stared at the screen for several seconds and deleted the photograph. Everyone online was discussing how to choose the right college, and I finally understood something too. When the first choice is wrong, you withdraw before it is too late. There was no reason to keep a photograph of Adrian and me either.

"Look at you. Bent over, trembling, waiting for it. You look like you were made to take my cock, Sunshine." Sofia lived a life defined by "shoulds" and "must-nots," bound by the strict doctrines of her religious family. Her world was a gilded cage, safe but stifling, where every breath was measured against expectations that left her soul aching for a release she didn't dare name. Then she met Luca De Rossi. A name whispered on the streets, he is a man carved from danger, power, and forbidden allure. He belonged to a world her family preached against—a world of illicit deals and ruthless loyalty. She should have run. She wanted to run. But Luca didn't give her the choice. He dragged her into his world stripping away her modesty. He taught her that fear is an aphrodisiac. He put a gun in her hand and his name on her skin. He took the shy, obedient girl and turned her into a woman who craves the sting of his palm and the weight of his possession. Now, caught between sacred duty and carnal obsession, Sofia must choose. Cling to the life that suffocates her, or surrender to the darkness that promises both ruin and exquisite, dangerous ecstasy. "You don't need to think, Sofia. You just need to open your mouth when I tell you to, and spread your legs when I walk in the room. You’re just a beautiful, wet place for me to sin." SIN WITH ME, SUNSHINE

Julian Ashford, the golden boy of the city's elite, had his left leg broken by his father with a golf club -- all because of me, a scholarship student. He was stripped of his billion-dollar inheritance and cast out of the family. For three years, he dragged that ruined leg around an auto repair shop, doing backbreaking labor just to scrape together enough for my college tuition. Everyone said I was the luckiest girl alive -- that I'd brought the untouchable heir of a financial empire to his knees, made him willing to live on scraps in the worst part of town. Today was our three-year anniversary. I was carrying the freshly signed Holloway Group inheritance confirmation documents, ready to finally tell him my real identity and pull him out of this misery. I walked down the corridor of The Grand Pavilion, holding a box of vanilla shortbread -- his favorite. Through the half-open door of a private suite, Julian Ashford stood tall on two perfectly healthy legs, dressed in an immaculate tailored suit, sliding a rare pink diamond ring onto the finger of Victoria Sterling -- the city's most celebrated socialite. "Victoria, I used that scholarship girl as a shield to survive three years of my old man's relentless arranged marriage schemes. My body's completely untouched. You've always been the one I was going to marry." I looked down at my own hands, cracked and raw from the cold, and tore the inheritance documents to shreds.