Anna Cathcart Ethnicity Novels & Stories

Trisha Redfern is a Vampire Lawyer who works in the court of King Damien Vandolff in a post apocalyptic New York. One of Damien's most trusted inner circle members and most talented lawyers, Trisha suddenly becomes the target for all Aristocratic Vampires when she chooses to fight against one Noble Vampire, Vandal Rudolf, when he tortures a human child. Several obstacles are led in her way as Damien himself comes after her to teach her a lesson. But Trisha is determined to stand by her decision even if it costs her, her life, for she cannot abandon a heart that was once human. When all hope seems lost, unexpected help comes in the form of Lucas Donovan, the Supreme Werewolf Alpha. But everything isn't always what it seems. Why does Lucas suddenly want to help his arch enemy? Why is Vandal so determined to get the child back at all costs? And most importantly, what's so special about that child that Trisha is willing to face the wrath of her entire race in order to protect him?

Raye is a renowned doctor at the height of her career but she's left betrayed and murdered by the people she trusts the most in her life. Her blind loyalty to her family that has never cared for her and the betrayal between her husband and her best friend leaves her shattered and murdered in cold blood. But fate isn't done with her yet. She's given a second chance to change her destiny and Raye is determined to rewrite her story this time. She will do whatever it takes to make those who wronged her pay and while she's at it, win the heart of her aloof and cold billionaire husband, Brian Montero, a man confined to a wheelchair and battling demons of his own. Raye has a plan and she's determined to use her skills to make him walk again. What happens when a vengeful woman who's given a second chance at life meets a cold billionaire who's given up on love?

Four years ago, a 13 year old blackmailed me into friendship by holding my doughnut captive. We've been close ever since. But then, I noticed that I wanted to be more than just friends. I was in love with my best friend. Sadly, he didn't feel the same way. I thought my world was over. I was crushed. But to my utmost yet most delighted surprise, I just happened to fall into the arms of a certain bad-boy. Literally. He didn't just save me from what could've been a hell of a concussion that night. He saved my heart too. But hey, let's not get in over our heads now. It wasn't that easy. Not even close. After all, when two opposing worlds clash for the very first time, we cant just expect it to be all rainbows and sunshine. Now do we?

I spent five years as Dominic Santoro’s wife in name only. Five years hidden behind closed doors, buried under his sheets, erased from his world. When he finally agreed to take me back to Chicago—to stand beside him, to be seen—I thought I had won. I bought a new dress. Soft. Elegant. Worthy of a Don’s woman. The night before we left, he looked at me through the mirror and said calmly, “Take the makeup off. Change into pants.” I asked why. He adjusted his cufflinks like I was nothing more than background noise. “Juliana Lancaster is back. Tonight is our engagement.” Russian Bratva. Lancaster blood. A marriage alliance. Seeing my silence, he laughed—careless, cruel. “What’s with that look? Didn’t we agree on this when we married? Brotherhood. Loyalty. No love.” Then he turned, eyes sharp and mocking. “Victoria Miller… you didn’t actually fall in love with me, did you?” I stood there, frozen. Because inside the inner pocket of his tailored suit— was my pregnancy report. And the Don of Chicago had no idea the woman he was about to sacrifice was carrying his heir.

Xavier opened his eyes after a while, breathing heavily as he thought of how unfortunate he had become. He felt compelled, even controlled by this little thing in front of him. Her scent, her body, her reactions all drew him into a vortex of desires he despised. "I didn't want a mate," he said in a gruff voice, "and you gave me one, you damned goddess!" He punched another hole into the wall and Violet whimpered fearfully. Xavier turned his attention to her, and his eyes clouded with anger as he bit out, "I should kill you now and make my life less miserable than it already is. The very idea of having you as my mate disgusts me on so many levels." *** The alpha of blood moon pack is as ruthless as they say he is, torturing his enemies till they beg for death, attacking packs and killing their alphas to expand his territory. Xavier, the ruthless alpha, wants no mate. He calls it a curse rather than a blessing from the moon goddess. His whole world was just darkness until he met her... Will Violet become one of fate's cruel victims?Will Xavier let his dark past affect his heart?Will the two accept each other and be together till the end?

Take it off slowly, inch closer, tease and make 'em believe you're all theirs--Make it perfectly estatic. Abigail's code was as simple as they come, and had worked impeccably for years with her one and only rule: No touching. But when she pisses off a snob who didn't like it very much, it was up to a certain billionaire to save her from his covetous hands. Except, he isn't quite ready to let her go just yet.

Sherly feels guilty for spending a hot night with a married man. In the morning, she decided to leave and leave the man who had probably liked her since the beginning of their meeting. However, the harsh reality hit Sherly's life when she found out that she was pregnant and her family forced her to throw away her own flesh and blood. Five years passed, Sherly looked for her child who turned out to have been adopted by the Rosell family. Lolita, who replaced Sherly as Aarav's mother, turned out to be the wife of Hansel, the man who slept with Sherly five years ago. After learning the truth, Hansel intends to have Sherly completely, because honestly his relationship with his wife is not based on love. "I liked you from the moment we met, and you have also given birth to my child, so you must be mine, only mine," Hansel was determined to have Sherly.

Three year after my death, my former mate returned— not to mourn me, but to make use of me one last time. It was the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year—the night when wolves whispered to the dead. “Where’s Mira Thorne?” Rowan demanded as he strode downstairs into the tavern beneath the den. “Her lived here—Gavin’s sister. I need to find her.” Dorian, the tavern keeper, glanced up slowly. “Mira?” he repeated, wiping his hands on a cloth. “She’s gone, Doctor. Died three winters ago. Same night the Moon rose red.” Rowan’s brows knit. “Dead? That’s impossible. There’s no record.” Dorian’s voice softened. “The family from that healing case—remember them? They found her in the alley behind this inn. Tore her apart before dawn. The healers couldn’t even retrieve her wolf.” Rowan froze, a flicker of disbelief passing across his face before irritation took over. “No. She’s pretending. She’s doing this to make me feel guilty.” he said sharply. “She’s hiding. She always was weak. Tell her if her doesn’t come out within three days, I’ll stop sending money for brother’s treatment.” He turned abruptly and left, the tavern door slamming behind him. Dorian sighed after him., shaking his head. “brother? Her brother died before the healers even arrived… there was never any money for treatment.” The silence that followed was heavier than snow. Dorian watched the falling snow and murmured to the empty air, “No one pretends death, Doctor. Not when they’ve already lost everything.”

Eight months pregnant, I had every bank card frozen by my husband’s female secretary. Over the phone, she laughed coldly and said, “From now on, every cent you spend needs my approval. Jack works too hard to waste his money on a useless woman who only knows how to shop.” That same day, I was rushed to the hospital with contractions. Every card I tried was declined. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had also moved my parents out of their private senior suite and into the cheapest room available. Her reason? Two ordinary old people had no right to waste Jack’s money. I laughed. She had no idea those “ordinary old people” were the Don and Donna of the Bellandi family, the couple who had controlled Italy’s underworld for decades. She had no idea Jack’s company, his reputation, his fortune—everything he owned—had come from the Bellandi family. My parents had already planned to retire completely after my child was born. They were going to hand the entire family over to me. And to Jack. Too bad. Jack had allowed her to humiliate the only real power he would ever have the chance to stand beside. Three days later, Jack held a welcome party for his mysterious investor. In front of everyone, his secretary dialed the investor’s number. The next second, my phone rang.

For five years, I let my husband’s mistress take whatever she wanted. My birthday. His time. His attention. The tenderness that used to belong to me. I even told myself I could survive watching my own son choose her over me, because a damaged family still had to be better than none at all. It wasn’t. This year, my husband took his mistress away for their birthday trip, and my son ran straight into her arms and called her Mom. That was the moment I finally understood something I should have learned five years ago: no matter how much of myself I gave to that family, I would never be the one they chose. So I filed for divorce. None of them believed I could really walk away. My husband thought I was bluffing. His mistress thought she had won. My son did not even look back. None of them believed I could really walk away. Then a call came from overseas: Matteo Bellandi’s wife was dead. This time, I left them with nothing but my ashes.