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My boyfriend, Percy Gaskell, suddenly flaunts an engagement ring on the Internet. He also announces that he'll get married in two months. Everyone thinks I'm the lucky bride who will get proposed soon, including myself. Anticipation fills my heart as I start making wedding preparations. But unwittingly, I end up overhearing Percy and his friends' conversation at the doorway of a private room in a bar. "I'm seriously impressed with the method you used to select your wife, Percy. You actually gave all 19 of them different scores! Those with lower scores get kicked out, whereas those with higher scores get to ascend to the next round! In the end, you choose the best wife out of all participants! "Now, the only ones left are Maisie and your beloved mistress, Sabrina. Not only that, but you're also biased toward Sabrina, so you gave her a relatively high score. Maisie is definitely losing this time! "What if Maisie finds out that she's not the one you're marrying in the end? Will she throw a hissy fit?" Percy took a sip out of his wine glass lazily. In a flippant tone, he replied, "That will have to depend on who satisfies me the most. Let me observe them for three more days. If Maisie is still that disappointing, she shouldn't blame me for being ruthless." His friends all burst into laughter. "You're far too soft-hearted, Percy! Maisie is inferior to Sabrina, be it her figure, age, or bedroom skills! I can't believe you're still giving her a chance! "If I were you, I'd have kicked her out in the first round!" Percy just smiles in amusement. "I only wish to give her a chance because I see how pathetically low her score is. If she can't even use the final chance given to her properly, she shouldn't blame me for not marrying her." I can feel my blood turn to ice in my veins. My mind has completely gone blank. All I can hear is my heartbeat, which slowly becomes louder. With a trembling hand, I dig out my phone and text that man's number, which lies at the bottom of my contact list. "Are you up for a whirlwind marriage right now?"

O livro "A maldição de Sander" vagueia pelos relatos de Olívia, uma jovem que certo dia sofre um grande choque ao encontrar um rapaz, Sander, no quintal de sua casa. O rapaz, que não sabia como foi lá parar, começa a contar-lhe histórias magníficas e atos heroicos que ele tinha feito até então, deixando a jovem boquiaberta. Mas algumas horas depois ela ouve na rádio que o rapaz que acreditava ser um herói e que ela tinha abrigado em sua casa, escondendo-o em seu quarto, é um assassino a sangue frio. No início, Olívia tem a reação de julgá-lo, mas depois, após juntar os pontos das histórias que ele lhe contara, ela conclui que ele cometeu tais crimes comandado por forças sobrenaturais malignas. Assim, os dois começam a aventura de inocentar Sander, o que os leva a fazer uma viagem emocionante pela vida do jovem rapaz, desde antes do seu nascimento. Ao mesmo tempo, Olívia, personagem principal e também narradora, faz uma viagem para dentro de si mesmo, descobrindo as suas dores, frustrações, amarguras, e também os momentos felizes. E, desta forma, redescobre a si própria, com a certeza de que a sua vida e a vida de Sander não se cruzaram por acaso. E, com passar do tempo, sem que nenhum deles se aperceba disso, a forte amizade que os une transforma-se num grande amor.

At the New Year's Eve dinner, my mom suddenly assigns some rules to me and my siblings. She claims that those who don't fit the criteria aren't allowed to eat at the table. Rule number one: One must have spent at least 50% of their time keeping Mom company at home last year. Rule number two: One must have gone shopping with Mom all the time. Rule number three: One must keep giving Mom allowance. But it appears that I, the oldest sibling, am the only one who doesn't meet the requirements. My little sister, Chelsea Cage, begins acting coquettish immediately. "All Cassidy cares about is her business, unlike me, Mom! I care about you!" Meanwhile, my younger brother, Cameron Cage, lectures me with a frown, "What's the point of you being able to earn more money than average people? No matter how good a breadwinner you are, the fact that you don't care about Mom completely nullifies it!" My mom tells my siblings to sit around her happily. Then, she criticizes me in a sarcastic tone. "As parents, when we become old, what we need is our children's company, not cold hard cash." I'm pissed off, to say the least. I'm the breadwinner of this family, and yet these freeloaders get to put on airs in front of me. The reason why I don't go shopping with my mom is that she's never satisfied with whatever gifts I've picked out for her during the times I did go out with her. That's why I gave her money straight away. I didn't give my mom any allowance at all because all the money is regularly deposited into the supplementary card, which she has. Since my long-term efforts are worth nothing compared to my siblings' sweet talk, I suppose I can quit being the ATM of this family.

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without warning to inspect the family’s money-laundering network on that island and saw him. In the town square, under the bright Mediterranean sun, Luca was standing there with a five-year-old boy by his side. “Papa, how long do we have to hide on this island?” the child asked. “I want to go to New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Luca laughed gently and scooped him up in his arms. With his other hand, he held Sophia’s. “Antonio, be good,” he said affectionately. “Papa’s position is… complicated. When you turn eighteen and pass the family’s initiation ceremony, I’ll kill that woman and her dead old man. Then, I’ll take you back to New York to inherit the entire Corleone family.” I stood in the shadows, unseen. Slowly, I lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around me as their voices drifted over, the conversation getting more vicious as it went. Sophia leaned into his chest, her tone sweet and coy. “Luca, I’ve been with you for seven years without a name or a title. How much longer are our son and I supposed to live like ghosts?” Luca sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The old man in the Corleone family is still alive. I married Victoria just to get her territory. Don’t worry. I’ve been adding something to her milk every day. She’ll never get pregnant in this lifetime. My family bloodline will only continue through you.” The last thread of reason in my mind snapped. In the six years of marriage we shared, I had been infertile. I’d taken countless hormone injections to stimulate ovulation. I’d knelt in church and prayed more times than I could count. Yet, all along, the devil poisoning me was my own husband. The initial shock faded quickly into rage. I crushed out my cigarette and pulled out my phone. Then, I dialed my uncle, the family’s clean-up man. “Uncle Rocco,” I said calmly, “Luca betrayed me. He betrayed the family. Order a coffin in the finest black walnut for me, and make it large, large enough to fit a family of three.”

Ten years with Don Maximus. I went from the crazy girl who demanded his "undying loyalty" at gunpoint to Chicago's perfect Donna. When Maximus took the casino's hottest stripper to his private room, I didn't lose my mind. Instead, I tossed the woman the keys to a Manhattan penthouse. When Maximus's new flame threw a tantrum at a yacht party, I didn't bat an eye. Instead, after she slapped a waiter in a fit of pique, I made the police problem go away. When Maximus fought with one of his girls, I'd even send her a limited-edition Birkin to smooth things over. And today, Maximus is busy fucking his hot new toy in the study, while another pregnant mistress stands on the estate's rooftop, threatening to jump just to see him. And I'm still the one in my red-bottom heels, calmly going to clean up his mess. The mistress screamed, desperate. "I'm not having this baby! Get Maximus!" I took a sip of my wine, my voice bored. "He's busy today. You have the baby, and I'll make sure seven figures show up in your offshore account." My indifference set her off. She grabbed my wrist, her grip like iron. "You're pathetic, Angelina! There was a time he wouldn't even look at another woman because of you. He slaughtered an entire family for you. When you were shot, he knelt in the pouring rain outside a church, begging God to take his life for yours! But now? You can't even get into his bed. All you can do is stand here and play the gracious Donna!" Her nails left red marks on my skin, but the smile on my face didn't crack. Did she really think a little drama would change anything? I wasn't playing the gracious Donna. I was just done. And I was finally ready to let Maximus go.