When Lightning Strikes

When Samantha Hall meets Lucas Storm at the Water Gardens on that fateful night, she realizes that she wants more than the contract marriage he has to offer her, but she knows that entering into the billionaire’s life would not be a very easy task. Lucas Storm has a lot on his mind - his younger brother is about to take over the company he has labored to build, and the only way he can save it is by showing his father he is responsible and settling down. That is when he meets the beautiful and easy going Samantha. But with deep feelings of love threatening to get in the way of their contract and an age old family feud for the billion dollar company, Lucas is thrown into a dilemma - he has to choose between Samantha and the company Would he lose it all and follow his heart or risk trying to get them both? Find out

Demi Lockheart doesn't believe in love. Her whole life the one man she ever had contact with was her father. A man that treated her as if she was only a hinderance. Abused and feeling useless she would rather never fall in love. Scorned by love she doesn't give her heart to just one person. or any person truthfully. Shaped by her youth she grows up to be a in the entertainment industry, where she meets Porter. A man that was just enough to hide her wild ways, possibly taming her to be a respectable woman. Zaine was the only one that loved and accepted Demi as herself. By her side through it all. It hurt him when she left. He made decisions that weren't for the best, hindering his talent. Fast forward to her birthday party, surrounded by industry friends and her best friend, a gift that brings her past back to her present. Will the past finally win her heart? Will she go back to her wild ways and want it all? Or will she stick with the safe and unhappy path? Only time will tell. "How did it come to this? She looked in the mirror, seeing the grimace on her reflection. Her heart torn in pieces because of what happened. Victoria, her long-time friend came to pat her on the shoulders. There were no words that needed to be exchanged. The two of them had been friends since their elementary school days. They knew what the other was thinking without having to say it. Demi leaned her head against her shoulder staring at their reflection. A decision needed to be made. It had to be made but why was it so hard when all she really wanted to do was love and be loved in return."

Shelby Rolland suffers from multiple personality disorder. One personality goes by Shelby and is a bartender, and the other Lightning is a cold hearted ruthless assassin who works for an organization called Dacorp. For each assassination job the organization holds a hunt and the winner carries out the kill. For years their works has gone unnoticed by the public because the head, Percy has some powerful people in his pockets. One day a female detective, Carolyn Black came snooping close to home and Percy tasked Lightning with the job of keeping the cop contained. She was to monitor her every activities to make sure she doesn't discover any of the Corps secrets. What Shelby and her alter ego didn't count on was falling for their mark. A day came when Carolyn stumbled on something she wasn't supposed to and Lightning was asked to kill her. Will she be able to or has the cold heart of a killer been melted?

The news said a massive hurricane would make landfall in Maisonet Bay by six that evening. By four o'clock, coworkers were already packing up to leave. The subways and buses had stopped running. Anyone with a car offered to give the carless a ride home. When someone asked if I needed one, I smiled and turned them down. "Thanks, but I'm good. My girlfriend's picking me up." They laughed and teased me about how nice it must be to have someone. At five, the wind outside picked up. I called Melanie Hayman, but she didn't answer. Our last messages were from an hour ago, when she'd said she was "almost there." I figured traffic must be bad and left it at that. By five thirty, the rain was coming down in sheets. I was the only one left in the office. The bulb overhead flickered, then went out with a pop. I dialed Melanie's number again in the dark. This time someone picked up, but it wasn't her voice. "Ryan?" I froze. "Where's Melanie?" "Mel's driving. She can't really talk right now."

I was pregnant. On my way to deliver documents to Tristan Goldberg, a flash flood struck. Desperate, I dialed his number, praying he’d answer. After a few rings, the call connected. But instead of Tristan, a woman’s voice answered. "Tristan, whose number is this? Do you want to answer it?" There was a brief pause, and then Tristan’s voice, cold and indifferent, cut through. "It’s just my maid. Ignore it. Hang up." And just like that, the call disconnected. Staring at the torrent rising around me, my pulse quickened. I texted him, begging for him to send a rescue team. Minutes passed as the waters climbed to my waist, churning and relentless. Then, a message from Tristan finally appeared. Tristan: [What kind of ridiculous story are you making up now?] Tristan: [Emily, do you think you're eighteen, playing these childish games? I want that document in my hands within thirty minutes, or we're getting divorced.] A surge of terror shot through me as I looked up, catching sight of a heavy branch snapping loose and crashing down. In an instant, everything went dark.

The night the hurricane made landfall, the emergency alert had barely stopped sounding when my sister-in-law, Brielle Rourke, called again. I listened to her helpless sobbing, then calmly handed the phone to my husband, Caleb Rourke, who was busy boarding up the balcony doors. Whatever she said, he kept agreeing to it. He pulled on a rain jacket and gave me that practiced, guilty look. "Her window's broken, Lena. She's all alone over there. I'll patch it up and I'll be back before the worst of it hits, I promise." Once again, it wasn't a discussion. It was an announcement. Five years of marriage, and every storm had gone exactly the same way. The moment the thunder started, her call came right on schedule. I used to fight about it, but he always said, "My brother died young. Brielle's raising his son by herself. We help when we can." "You're a grown woman, and a strong one. You can look after yourself and our son, right?" The wind split the glass, and the shards opened my calf to the bone. I reached for the baby sweater I'd never finished knitting. Tonight, Caleb, I don't think your son or I need you anymore.