Anna Karenina Novel Review Mga Nobela at Kwento

The story about a young bright girl whose life got destroyed because of her father's believe. Alexa is lost and faded, shattered and broken as she writes about her dark past on her death bed just after she finally finds true love and wishes to live instead.

My mother never believed me. To her, I was always just a lying pup. In my pack, every cub wore a Moon Oath Collar. Red meant you lied. White meant you told the truth. My sister’s collar always glowed a soft white. Even when she pretended to be sick to get out of an exam, her collar only gave off that gentle white light. Mine was different. Even when I was truly sick, my collar would burst into a violent red, and the punishment current would follow immediately. On my sister’s birthday, Mother prepared a bonfire feast for the whole pack. Just before they left, a splitting pain tore through my head, and I collapsed on the floor, begging her to help me. For one second, she almost picked me up. Then my collar flashed red. “To ruin your sister’s birthday, you’re even pretending to die? What a vicious child.” Then she walked out with my sister and left me alone on the floor. I died alone on the cold floor. But when I opened my eyes again, I was no longer inside my body. My soul drifted after my mother as I whispered the truth she had never believed. “Mom… I wasn’t lying. I really died.” And when they finally found my body, the red collar on my neck was still flashing.

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?

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.

My mate bond with Alpha Ronan of the Blackthorne Pack had failed thirty-two times. I thought the Moon Goddess did not bless us. I thought if I endured a little longer, loved him a little harder, the next time would finally work. Until the thirty-third rite. Then the fire swallowed me whole. When I woke in the healers’ hall, my body was broken, my Moonborn Core was damaged. Only then did I hear Ronan speaking to his Beta outside the door. “If you love Selene that much, then sever the claim with Elara. The Blackthorne Pack can silence any rumor. Why keep staging accidents?” “She almost died,” his Beta said. “Ten years ago, the Alpha of Nightvale and his mate died saving me. This bond is how I repay that debt.” “I never wanted Nightvale’s bloodline chained to mine.” “The woman I love is Selene.” That was when I finally understood. The Moon Goddess had never rejected us. Ronan had. He saw my parents’ sacrifice as a chain around his neck. He saw Nightvale’s Moonborn bloodline as a cage built to trap him. And he would never know— the fire he arranged had already taken the child I carried. The true black-core heir Blackthorne had waited generations for. If Ronan hated this bond so much, I would give him what he wanted. I would sever the claim myself.

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.

Miaka Von Speltsper, the myth, the legend and the daughter of two Gods. Miaka, the Demon King and the head of the Dark Council is the most powerful demon ever known to mankind, but she has a secret. She’s a hybrid. And the world she lives in has hunted down and eliminated every single hybrid in all the dimensions. But now…someone knows her secret, someone who has the power to destroy her. However, the world is changing and one of those changes is Kaleb Takeshi, the man with extraordinary eyes who has stolen Miaka’s heart with just one glance. But there is something about Kaleb that Miaka can sense but can’t describe. And not only is he human, he’s an enemy who has decided to give his loyalty to her. In this world of lies, deceit and betrayal; can Miaka trust her heart or will she have to choose century’s old traditions to stay alive? Because if she dies, it will truly be the end of the world.

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.

"Who the hell are you?!" yelled Rachel Clarke (28) when she woke up in the morning to find herself all naked with a man snoring softly beside her. "I'm your future husband, have you forgotten what happened last night?" said the man beside her with his eyes half-closed. Since that day, Rachel's life has changed 180 degrees. Suddenly she had to marry a young, self-made billionaire named Nicholas Anthony just because of a ridiculous agreement she signed when she was drunk.

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.