Who Wrote 'Every Time I Die They Bring Me Back'?

They say money can't buy happiness. But it sure can buy revenge. Nyla gave everything to her billionaire husband Eric her fortune, her trust, her heart. He repaid her with betrayal, leaving her to die while he pampered his mistress with the blood meant to save her life. But death wasn't the end. Nyla wakes up one year in the past with a mission: bankrupt Eric in 30 days, divorce him, reclaim her empire, and marry his biggest rival Cameron just to watch him burn. Revenge should be simple. But as Nyla destroys Eric's world, she discovers the betrayal runs deeper than adultery. Someone orchestrated her death and they're not done yet. Just when she thinks she's rewritten her fate, an anonymous message arrives: "You died for a reason. And they're coming to finish what they started." Some second chances come with a price. Who's really pulling the strings?

From as far back as I can remember, I knew my mom hated me. She gives me sleeping pills when I'm three. When I'm five, she tries pesticide instead. But I'm hard to get rid of. By the time I'm seven, I've already learned how to fight back. If she refuses to give me food, I flip the table so no one can eat either. If she beats me up until I'm on the ground, writhing in pain, I go after her beloved son the same way, leaving him bruised and bawling. That's how we stay locked in battle until I turn 12. Everything changes when my youngest sister is born. I'm clumsily trying to help with her wet diaper when Mom suddenly shoves me against the wall. The look in her eyes holds both disgust and fear. "What were you trying to do to my daughter? I knew it. You take after that monster of a father. Why didn't you just die with him?" I hold my aching head. For the first time, I don't fight back. I believe she's right. My existence is a mistake. I should never have been alive.

Nadia Reyes has died twelve times. Different centuries, different methods — same hands, same face, same cold eyes watching her take her final breath. At twenty-seven, armed with soul memories that science cannot explain and a rage that twelve lifetimes of dying has sharpened into something precise, she stops running. She spends eight months engineering an introduction to Dorian Ashvale — the man her soul recognizes as her killer — seduces him deliberately, and marries him with one goal: end the cycle on her terms before he ends it on his. Dorian doesn't remember any of it. He only knows that Nadia feels like a memory he was never supposed to have, and that marrying her is the first decision in his life that has ever felt completely, terrifyingly right. But as Nadia moves closer to executing her revenge, her forensic genealogy skills uncover something that fractures everything — Dorian's violence across lifetimes wasn't chosen. His soul has been hijacked by an ancient predatory entity that feeds on Nadia's interrupted purpose, growing stronger every time she dies before completing something she was always meant to finish. The monster she married didn't kill her. Something far older did — using his hands. As the entity begins to activate, triggering blackout episodes Dorian cannot control, Nadia faces the most dangerous realization of all thirteen lifetimes: she is falling in love with the man she planned to destroy. Book 1 ends when Dorian surfaces from his worst blackout yet to find Nadia bleeding — and looks at her with the eyes of a man who remembers nothing and is about to lose everything.

I jumped in front of a dagger for a man who didn’t love me. I know how that sounds. I knew how it sounded then too, somewhere in the back of my mind, but my body was already moving and the wolfbane was already spreading through my blood before I could talk myself out of anything. He held me while I was dying. Said my name like it mattered. And I lay there on that cold floor thinking maybe. Maybe this is the moment he finally sees me. Then Vanessa knelt beside him and they started talking and I realized they thought I was already gone. I almost was. But not yet. I heard every word. I died on that floor knowing the truth about what I was to him. Not a love. Not even a choice. Just a girl who stayed close and never complained and made herself easy to keep around. Then I woke up at eighteen and everything was exactly the same same room, same pack, same people except me. I remember everything. And I’m not the same girl anymore.

Faith Sartini should have died once, but fate gave her a second chance. She was murdered by the man she loved and the best friend she had trusted with everything. As her life spilled away, she died watching the one man who truly loved her weep over her bloodied hands — too late for either of them. Faith was reborn. This time she came with one goal — REVENGE. She believes she can take everything from her killers, make them taste the same betrayal they had fed her, and make them regret the day they chose each other over her. She had already paid the price for her blindness once. She would not pay it twice. And this time she wants to give her heart to the man who had cherished her in life and mourned her in death. The ruthless CEO who would never betray her. She had died once. But was it enough?

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.