How To Write A Family History Book Template

Fall in love with this next generation of bikers - ranging from stories of second chances to the love of a lifetime.18+, sex scenes, miscarriageThe Heaven Hill Generations is created by Laramie Briscoe, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

🔞⚠️Rated 18+ | Mature Content Warning This book is for adults only. It contains explicit sex, strong language, and mature themes. Read at your own risk or pleasure. She dreamed of a fairytale. Instead, she stepped into a nightmare. Amelia always believed in fated mates and happy endings, until her mark led her straight to Klaus, the cold, ruthless prince who despised her existence. Forced into a loveless marriage to protect his inheritance, Klaus made her life unbearable. Broken and desperate, Amelia made a choice… one that led her into the arms and bed of the king himself. Now she carries a royal secret in her womb. Not her husband’s child… but his father’s. How long can Amelia keep the truth buried? And what will happen when Klaus discovers the ultimate betrayal? When he discovers that his wife is pregnant for his father… Betrayal. Forbidden passion. A love that could destroy a kingdom. Are you ready for the scandal that will shake the royal bloodline?

I died on my wedding night. Then I woke up—with revenge in my veins and my killer’s uncle in my bed. Betrayed by my husband and murdered by the man I once loved, I get a second chance—reborn one year before my death. This time, I’m done playing nice. I crash my own engagement by announcing an affair with the one man my ex fears: his powerful, brooding billionaire uncle. But what started as a game of revenge spirals into something dangerously real… and I’m carrying his child. Lies. Lust. Loyalty twisted beyond recognition. This time, I’m rewriting the rules—starting with my last name.

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Before our wedding, my fiancée, Sarah Hargrave—a professor of medieval history—held a private ceremony in a secluded chapel in the countryside. But not with me. Under the glow of candlelight, she cradled Benjamin Wheeler—her first love, his face gaunt from the cancer consuming him—in her arms. Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she murmured, "In the eyes of God, vows made before the altar are the only ones that matter. Even if the law says I belong to Daniel, my soul was never his." And so, to the faint echo of hymns and the scent of old incense, they drank from the same silver cup, exchanged rings, and stepped together into the dimly lit sacristy—their makeshift bridal chamber. I watched. Silent. Motionless. No outbursts, no demands for explanation. Just the quiet dialing of a clinic to undo the vasectomy I'd gotten for our future. From fifteen to thirty, I had loved Sarah for fifteen long years. But in all that time, there'd never been room for me. That space had always belonged to Benjamin, my stepbrother. So I let her go. Afterward, I joined a geological research team bound for the isolation of Antarctica—a land cut off from the world, quiet and clean. Before I left, I handed Sarah a divorce agreement…and a final gift to mark the end. I never anticipated that Sarah, who'd always met my devotion with frosty detachment, who'd never once glanced back as I walked away, would look ten years older overnight.

My husband and I have been married for a decade. When I finally conceive for the first time in ten years, I realize my worst enemies are my family, who all want me dead. I've made a promise to return to the fertility shrine on the mountain and fulfill my vow if things work out, but my mother-in-law deliberately messes up the cable car tickets. In the process of hiking up the mountain for two hours, I lose my baby. In the hospital, I cry to my husband about all the vicious things his mother has done to me, but he kicks me in the stomach. "I had a vasectomy a long time ago. There's no way that bastard inside you is mine!" When he hands me the proof, I'm completely speechless. I break down in tears and run back to my parents' place. Not only do my parents hire a nanny to help take care of me, but they even move out of the house so I can rest in tranquility. When I'm eight months pregnant, I overhear them whispering in the bathroom. "We can never let Gina have the baby. I don't care if it kills her—we're all screwed if the child is born!" "Relax. The doctor already told me that Gina's got leukemia from all the formaldehyde in our new house. Even the baby's deformed!" Shocked, I burst into the bathroom to confront them, but the slippery floor causes me to fall hard. Instantly, blood snakes across the tiles. As I lie there in pain, I look up and see the cold, twisted smiles on my parents' faces before taking my last breath. I cannot fathom why my family wants me dead. I thought they'd been looking forward to his baby for a decade. When I open my eyes again, I return to the very day my mother-in-law insists on taking me to the mountain.