All I've Never Wanted

DISCONTINUED INDEFINITELY ********************************** WARNING CONTAINS SEXUAL CONTENT ********************************** Ashlee is a trouble maker who has been expelled so many times that she drove her parents to the edge of insanity. They had run out of ideas on how to get her to straighten up so they decided to send her to an all boys private school where her roommate and all of her classmates are, you guessed it, boys! Once she gets used to the nonstop flirting and staring she makes friends with a number of the guys and quickly realizes that half of them have crushes on her. Will being put here be a punishment or a hidden blessing, only time and her unique experience will tell in the end. ********************************** "You're a girl." He stated coldly glaring at me "You're a boy." I countered raising one eyebrow ********************************** "Ugh stop staring." I stated before adding "Where can I take a shower?" "Um well the showers here are down the hall but they're not private at all." Matt stated "We could guard the door for you so no guys go in." Max added "Awwwww thanks guys, should I strip in front of the whole school now or when you let them in the showers while I'm naked?" I replied sarcastically "Awe Ashlee we wouldn't do that." Matt said "But I wouldn't mind a Private showing." Max added with a wink

“Alpha…” I whispered as I got up, trying to hug his waist but he grabbed my hand immediately. “Do you want money?” He demanded coldly and I shook my head. “Don’t get any funny ideas, Freya. I told you my heart belongs to my mate.” He replied and I nodded, my shoulders slumping with disappointment. “It’s been four years…” ****************************** After 4 years of warming the Alpha’s bed, his mate returns, it didn’t take anything for the alpha to toss me aside like I was nothing and I realized loving him for 8 years was a waste and I was never going to get a chance with him. Gathering the shreds of my broken heart, I decided to walk away but just when I found my mate, the alpha returns and this time he’s determined to do everything to have me back. It’s up to me to decide whether I want the man who never loved me or if I should go for my mate but there’s one problem, I have secrets huge enough to destroy both men and everything they stand for.

"I hate you!" Allison spat, her teeth grinding against each other loudly in anger. "You do?" Dante asked, grinning wolfishly. His gold eyes glinted in amusement. Darting his tongue, he licked his canines as he eyed her plump parted lips. "How about we find out how much?" And before she could blink, he smashed his lips against hers. **** When the Lycan King comes to visit Allison's pack, the last thing she expected was to find out he was her mate. Heck, the last thing she wanted was a mate. With the murder of her parents on her mind and running her pack as a Beta, Allison has no need and no taste for the Lycan King nor his terrible reputation as a womanizer. How long though can she resist his charms or the pull of the mate bond? And with her parents murderers lurking in the shadows, how far will she go for her revenge?

After pulling an all-nighter to finish a group assignment, I wanted only one thing: sleep. I did not even get 10 minutes. My roommate, Ronda Jones, burst into the dorm, raging about class. She shouted into her headset and turned our room into a storm of insults and keyboard slams. When I quietly asked her to keep it down, she turned on me instead. Then the power went out, and a 5-dollar electricity bill became the excuse she had been waiting for. I refused to split it. That single decision set everything in motion.

After being married for five years, my husband, Harvey Jepson, brings his first love, Debbie Grayson, home after a six-month business trip. Debbie is over three months pregnant. Harvey says it's hard for her alone, so she's temporarily living with us. I say no, and Harvey warns me to know my place. His scornful tone seems to hint that he's forgotten this villa was a wedding gift to me. He and his family have been leeching off me for the past five years. This time, I'm cutting all of them off. I smile and call my assistant. "Draw up a divorce agreement for me now. To think a live-in husband would have the nerve to bring his mistress home so boldly."

On New Year's Eve, my own brother slapped me three times. He stood there, full of himself, and spat at me in disgust. "This is my house. Who do you think you are, coming in here and telling me what to do? Get out. You're nothing but bad luck. If you dare stay, I'll hit you again." He seemed to have forgotten something. The house he was living in was the one I had bought for Mom. The jewelry his wife wore was all paid for by me. The money in his children's hands was the generous allowance I had just given them. My face still burning, I looked around at the others. My sister-in-law curled her lips into a mocking smile and let out an icy snort. The two children stared at me with open hostility. Mom, who had called me there tonight for my birthday, stood silently in the corner. Just like always, her eyes were red, yet she said nothing. At that moment, something in me snapped.

Four years of marriage. One signature—his own—that set me free, though he never realized what he was signing. I was Sophia Moretti, the invisible wife of James Moretti, heir to the city’s most powerful mafia family. But when his childhood sweetheart, the dazzling and privileged Vicky, returned, I finally understood: I had always been temporary. So I played my final move. I slid the papers across his desk—divorce disguised as routine university forms. James signed without a second glance, his fountain pen scratching across the page as carelessly as he'd treated our vows, without noticing he was ending our marriage. But I walked away with more than my freedom. Beneath my coat, I carried his unborn heir—a secret that could destroy him when he finally realized what he'd lost. Now, the man who never noticed me is tearing the world apart trying to find me. From his penthouse to the underworld's gutters, he's turning over every stone. But I'm not some trembling prey waiting to be found. I rebuilt myself beyond his reach—where not even a Moretti can follow. This time, I won't be begging for his love. He'll be begging for mine.

It is the third year of my marriage when the video of my bodyguard, Julian Sutherland, holding an umbrella over me in a downpour goes viral. Overnight, the internet becomes obsessed with the "Icy Protector and his Forbidden Heiress." Netizens are relentless; they dig through the archives until they unearth a ten-year-old clip. In the video, a girl was holding a pair of high-heeled shoes while sprinting through the Folander airport. My friend teased, "No way, Ms. Serina Brown. Are you really flying back home to confess to that poor man? What could you possibly see in him?" The camera shakes, capturing my youthful face. I was just a reckless 20-year-old. "I love Julian. I love everything about him." That night, after seeing the video, Julian loses his composure and bursts into my room. "I didn't know you loved me back then. I thought… I thought… God, it was never supposed to end like this." I pull my coat around me and stand rooted on the spot, remaining silent. Suddenly, a mocking laugh echoes from behind me. Someone places their hand firmly on my waist and says, "Are you trying to reminisce about your love with my wife right in front of me? Do I look dead to you?"

My daughter Stella was dying—kidneys shot, barely hanging on. She needed a transplant. Fast. But my wife, Kylie—the hospital director—stole the donor kidney meant for Stella and handed it off to her old flame's kid instead. That boy lived. They celebrated. Played happy family while my daughter was bleeding out hope. That same day, I called Kylie. Told her Stella didn't have much time. All she said was, "That ungrateful brat's faking it again? Lying? If she wants to die, let her." Stella didn't make it. Her body gave out in the worst way. And when Kylie finally saw her—really saw her—she broke.

The Rossi mafia family followed an ancestral rule. Before marriage, the heir received one chance each year to draw lots. Drawing a fortunate lot meant he could choose his own spouse and avoid an arranged marriage. Dante Rossi drew an unfortunate lot for five consecutive years, and I, who had been dating him for seven years, never managed to marry him. This year marked the sixth year. I overheard his conversation with Marco Valentino, the Underboss. "Mr. Rossi, you drew a fortunate lot again." Dante's voice carried an unprecedented coldness. "Same as always, switch it to an unfortunate lot." Marco hesitated, then tried to persuade him. "Mr. Rossi, you've switched it for five years straight. Aren't you worried Celia will leave? Celia's the most beautiful woman in Nopales. Half the men in the city are chasing her." Dante said with absolute certainty, "She won't. Celia loves me too much. She won't marry anyone else. "Years ago, Livia's father died saving me. His dying wish was for me to stay by her side for five years. After this year ends, I'll give Celia a grand wedding as compensation." My last shred of hope died after I heard those words. Dante probably did not know that the Rossi family had one final ancestral rule. If the heir failed to draw a fortunate lot six times, he would lose the right to choose his own marriage. Moreover, I would soon be marrying someone else.