Novel & Cerita Armon Warren

Heron has always found her name a means for discomfort but she would rather be Heron Ellis than Heron Astor. Warren Astor is everything she despises in a man, arrogant, callous, with no desire to display even the smallest amounts emotions. But he does have a keen eye for investments, and Heron Ellis, the aspiring designer catches his eye. Unfortunately for him, his rather traditional father gives him an ultimatum, marry or the company will never be his. Wanting to kill two birds with one stone, Warren manages to put Heron in a position where her only option is to marry. Will they be able to open to one another, or will the fraying ties of their relationship unravel once and for all.

Amy died at the hands of the man who once swore to love her. But fate gave her a second chance: she awakens ten years younger, before marrying Warren—the husband who ruined her life and massacred her family. Now, her mission is clear: revenge. In her path appears Simon, the only man Warren could never defeat. Rich, dangerous, and irresistibly charming, he agrees to Amy’s shocking proposal: marriage. With Simon by her side, Amy is ready to strike back. But between betrayal, forbidden attraction, and a dangerous love triangle, Amy must decide if her rebirth will be ruled by hatred—or by the unexpected fire Simon awakens in her.

When Lana’s fated mate rejects her, she’s left with nothing but a burning desire for revenge. Her only option? Strike a dangerous pact with her mate’s fiercest rival, the cold and powerful Alpha Warren. His price? She must become his mate and Luna of Red Moon. As she’s pulled into Warren’s world, hatred and attraction blur, and Lana finds herself questioning her heart and her alliances. But when long-buried secrets and old flames ignite a deadly conflict, Lana must decide if she’s ready to fight for love or risk losing everything forever. POV: First person POV alternating between Lana, Warren and Callen

He gave her pussy lips one last, long stroke, and then he moved one finger to her slick channel. He probed it carefully, moved in an inch, paused. When she whimpered and thrust her hips up, he slid in deeper, waited again. Good God, she was wet, and warm, and tight. She was perfect, and she was all his. When she opened her eyes and stared up at him, silently begging and pleading, that was when he added a second finger and slid home. Her whole body jerked in reaction, and both her cry and her eyes were wild. Fuck, yeah, his little hellcat was back – and he hoped he had the scratches to prove it later. **** Eight months ago, Warren “Derby” Kane took one wrong turn, and ended up trapped

I've just received a text from my CEO wife, Cara Lavigne. Apparently, she's gone on another last-minute business trip again, so she can't accompany me to the funeral home. But soon, I see Cara's silhouette being captured in a photo, where she celebrates her assistant, Warren Stone's birthday with him in a work-related post he has just uploaded. The caption reads, "Thank you for the amazing cake, boss! I feel so happy to be able to celebrate my birthday!" I just smile calmly before leaving a like and a comment. "Happy birthday." My colleagues, on the other hand, start betting pools like mad to see what kind of tricks I'm going to pull this time in order to kick up a ruckus. Cara calls m

My fiancee was diagnosed with cancer and needed a liver transplant. When I found out I'm a match, I agreed to undergo the surgery without a second thought. They removed two-thirds of my liver. The pain is excruciating, but the moment I wake up, I force myself to check on her. Outside her hospital room, I overhear her talking to a friend. "Trish, you're a genius! This revenge plan is brilliant!" her friend exclaims. Patricia Zeller laughs. "If I weren't trying to keep it low-key, I would've taken a kidney just for fun. It's all his fault that Warren messed up his college entrance exam and had to study abroad. Warren's coming back in a month. Once he does, I'm done with him for goo

My fated mate, Warren, heir to the Alpha of the Moonwatch Pack, was struck by a curse that left his wolf spirit broken. At the price of burning away my own wolf spirit, I earned an ancient pack prophecies. To lift his curse, I had to dance at the edge of the Moonlight Spring on every full moon, until the water of the spring came to a boil. So month after month, I sacrificed up my wolf spirit and danced the Moon Goddess's sacred rite. All I wanted was for the spring to boil, so he could take his place as Alpha and never be looked down on again. But I danced fifty-nine times, until my wolf spirit was nearly in pieces, and the water never so much as simmered. The night before the sixtieth

On the 26th of my birthday, my true love gave me divorce papers and a broken heart. One meant to wound. One meant to finish me. Life has a way of giving gifts that are both unexpected and profound. If the people you love the most can hurt you this deeply, then perhaps it is only fair to return the gesture, quietly and carefully. This is a thick and cruel world. But I am still here. And some gifts are returned with interest — Bianca Winter. *** “Please, Bianca,” Charles Warren begged, crying on his knees. “Give me a chance. Give us another chance.” “Dear ex,” Bianca Winter replied coldly, “I would have to be blind to walk your way again and even blindness wouldn’t excuse th

“Where have you been, Cosette Blanche Warren?” he whispered darkly. My throat went dry. I could feel his hands roaming down my thighs, his touch possessive. “Someone saw my wife with Franklyn Carrington today,” Yohan continued, his voice deceptively sweet. “Tell me, Mrs. Warren… is that true?” A chill ran through me. His tone wasn’t affectionate—it was laced with something far more dangerous. “Open your eyes.” I jolted at his sudden command and immediately obeyed. My body trembled under the weight of his stare. His fingers curled under my chin, tilting my face closer. Slowly, agonizingly, he licked the corner of my lips before whispering against them. “What did I tell yo

Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it