Novel & Cerita Ban On Books

WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN YOUR HUSBAND AND HIS BEST FRIEND ACCIDENTALLY SWAP SOULS AND TO SWAP THEM BACK YOU HAVE TO BE MARKED BY BOTH OF THEM AT THE SAME TIME OR JUST PICK ONE? Do you go to the man with your husband's face, his familiar hands, his familiar voice — knowing it's his best friend's soul looking back at you through his eyes? Or do you go to the man with his best friend's body, every tattoo, every scar, every inch of him you were never supposed to want — knowing your husband's heart is beating inside that chest? Maya Sinclair has exactly forty days to figure it out before the curse makes the swap permanent. The problem is she's been in love with both of them for longer than she's willing to admit. And the bigger problem? They're starting to figure that out. Two men. Two bodies. One woman. She has thirty days to break the curse. And she has two men in the wrong bodies, with every reason to hate each other — who are both, somehow, choosing her and even choosing each other. Some curses aren't punishments. Some curses are the only way the universe could think to tell you the truth. And that one choice could change three lives. What choice would Maya make? THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEX SCENES,POSSESSIVE ENERGY, AND INTENSE EMOTIONAL TENSION AND BETRAYAL, READER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED. SPICY CHAPTERS WOULD BE INDICATED WITH THIS SYMBOL ~~~. ENJOY!!

After my parents died in a car crash, my cousin stole the compensation money and moved overseas to start a business. My aunt begged me on her knees not to call the police. Then, she locked me in a dark basement for three months. I was close to breaking down and ending my life when Julien Lawson, the neighbor’s son, broke down the basement door and saved me. “Joyce, what they did is unforgivable! They stole the compensation money for your parents’ deaths. You were going to use it to open your own studio! “Marry me. I’ll protect you.” He was the only person who cared about me after my parents died. I was so grateful that I married him and had his child. I worked three jobs during the day to help support the orphanage that Julien ran. At night, I took care of our child and created design sketches. But no matter how hard I tried, none of my work was ever accepted. Even though Julien told me to keep at it, I felt discouraged and thought of giving up on my design career to focus on our family. One day, our child was sick. I went to take over the shift from Julien when I overheard him talking to my aunt on the stairs. “Julien, it’s been ten years. Joyce’s designs are getting better and better. She even passed the first round of the national competition. Are you really not going to tell her about the next round?” my aunt asked. Her voice trembled. Julien said coldly, “For years, I’ve been sending Joyce’s design sketches to Mindy to copy and enter in the competitions or publish as her own. “To help Mindy’s career, I can’t let Joyce move on to the next round. “Joyce has talent. If people notice her, she’ll be a threat to Mindy’s career!”

My husband, Malcolm Thorpe, has low sperm motility. After 33 rounds of IVF, I finally got pregnant. On delivery day, I start hemorrhaging, and the medical team calls for an emergency C-section. Malcolm signs the consent form, then rushes straight back to his childhood sweetheart's birthday party. But instead of starting the C-section, the surgeon says, "Ms. Jacobson, the electronic medical record lists you as single. This consent form isn't valid." I stop breathing for a beat. The happy marriage I believe in turns out to be a sham. Later, Mom and Dad rush in and sign the consent for me. But by then, the baby is gone. The asphyxia lasted too long. After surgery, I scrawl my name on the cremation consent with shaking hands, then dial a number without thinking. "Samuel, are you free now? Meet me in front of City Hall."

I am someone you wouldn't pray showed up in your nightmares… I am no devil incarnate. I am the devil itself.I do not hunger for women, but just one became a reason for my starvation. I would exploit her meekness. I would make her beg to be mine.When I claim her, it won't be kind.It will be savage. Raw. She would fall on her knees, but it wouldn't be a reason to pray. When she parts her lips, not even a worship to the Moon Goddess would be heard, because those lips that bring me to sin would only call my name and worship my body.She was something forbidden. She was never meant to be mine. She is my father's new little wife. But I am ready to break the rules of the Bratva and the Nightshade Pack. I would spill my father's blood like paint on a canvas.

I lost my dear son, Henry, to a traffic accident. He had been on his way to one of his part-time jobs. Despite working a lot, my son was still a top scorer on the SATs. “Mom, I don’t want treatment,” he begged with his last breath. “I just want Dad.” In my despair, I called Matthew Foster, my husband, more than one hundred times, but he never answered. We had been married for eighteen years, but one day, he spent all of our savings in order to pay for the treatment of his deceased comrade’s son. That got us into a debt worth one million dollars. To help him pay for it, both Henry I and worked hard to earn money. My son went as far as working five part-time jobs a day! That accident cracked his head open and tore his stomach. He was in urgent need of money for treatment. Since Matthew was not responding, I had to leave Henry’s side to rush to his workplace, where I ended up hearing that he was throwing a party for someone else’s son because he had gotten into a prestigious school. “Mr. Foster gave Zack a seaside mansion, a luxury car, and a limitless black card in hopes that he will succeed in his future studies and have a smooth and healthy life.” As I watched my “poor” husband hug his comrade’s widow and son, I called him for the 101st time. “Henry wants to see you one last time.” “I’m busy right now, Wendy. Be good with Henry and wait a little while longer.” When Matthew hung up impatiently, I put down my phone in silence. I whispered, “Matthew, Henry can no longer wait for you.” At that moment, I decided that I was not going to wait for him anymore either.

My husband, Hank, is dead.  On our wedding anniversary, he ventured out in the pouring rain to buy me a cake, only to be hit by a truck. His body was badly mangled in the crash.  My sister-in-law, Lyra, called me a killer, claiming that I did not deserve Hank’s inheritance.  My mother-in-law, Judy, kicked me out of the house.  Overwhelmed by grief and guilt, I often wondered if he would still be alive had I stopped him that day. Eventually, emotions gripped me, and I was diagnosed with cancer.  Judy came to visit me on my deathbed. “You’re an idiot to believe everything!”  She threw a family photo in my face.  The shock and anger were more than I could handle, and I breathed my last.  It turned out that Hank was never dead. He had a child with his old flame.  When I opened my eyes once more, I returned to the day my husband faked his death.

On the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Vicente Buckley, he violated my trust by sleeping with my best friend Kinsley Gilmore, on our bed. Through the camera, my son Jamie Buckley's childish voice sounded. "Kinsley, I'll keep watch at the door. I won't let my mom come in!" As if rewarding him, Kinsley pecked Vicente and suggested, "Your son is great. Don't you think about having another child with Patricia?" Vicente responded by covering her face with a pillow, saying, "The scar on her belly disgusts me."

My husband Preston smashed up the solo art show I'd spent three years building for Vivian, the poor girl we had sponsored through college. "Chloe! What the hell did you send Vivian?!" "She read your goddamn text and suffered a depressive episode! She nearly jumped off the rooftop!" I looked at his furious face and the whole thing struck me as absurd. "Preston. What exactly did I send? I told her that today was the opening of my show and asked her not to call you during it." "She's sick! Why do you have to make every little thing a fight! If anything happens to her because of you — I'll never forgive you." With that, he didn't even glance at me. He turned and bolted back out into the storm. I didn't cry. I didn't even have the energy to be furious. I turned to leave, but in the rain, I ran into Rowan—a classmate from college. He used to be the most popular guy at our school — sweet and hot. But now he was severely injured. The torrential rain had soaked his shirt, revealing his perfect abs beneath. Without hesitation, I took him back to my apartment. Preston showed up pounding on the door, eyes red with rage. "Chloe — I'm gone for an hour and you drag some guy off the street into our bed?" I sneered and stepped in front of Rowan. "If you can play free therapist to some other woman, why can't I try being a philanthropist?"

“We ain't divorced yet, Gabriella and you are already cheating. Is this why you wanted a divorce? Cutting me off from your business? Just to bring in someone and you didn't even do that alone but my uncle? Doing shit with my uncle?” My eyes widened more and more until I understood what was happening. For three years, Gabriella thought she had it all, a loyal husband, a growing interior design business, and a best friend she’d known since college living under their roof “just until she got back on her feet.” When her friend announced a surprise pregnancy, Gabriella celebrated, until she discovered the father was her own husband. The betrayal slices deeper when Gabriella learns the affair began long before the baby, and worse, her husband signed over half of their joint properties to the friend in secret. Now publicly humiliated and privately devastated, Gabriella refuses to be the woman who begs to be chosen. Divorce is not just a choice, it’s survival. Enter Aidan Voss, her newest client: a reclusive billionaire known for designing luxury hotels and for ruthlessly dismantling the competition. He’s charming, calculated, and hiding scars of his own. He offers her a high-stakes design contract that would put her business back on the map, but his interest in her is anything but professional. What she didn't know was that the newest client was her ex-husband's uncle. But Gabriella made a vow: never to lose herself in a man again. Not even one who seems to see past the ruins she hides behind polished smiles. And certainly not one who might just be planning revenge on the man who broke her, because Aidan has his own unfinished business with her ex-husband.

Some wines take years to perfect. So does revenge. Imani Reginald is the secret behind a billion-dollar empire. Her name isn't on the label. Her face isn't in the press. But every award the Reginald Wine Company has ever won was because of her. Her husband calls her their competitive advantage. He calls her his greatest love and means it so convincingly that even Imani has never thought to look closer. He forgot one thing. Imani makes wine that billionaires beg for. And one of them was watching. He is Ruthless. Dangerous. A man carrying his own wounds and a revenge agenda that runs cold and deep — similar to hers in ways, neither of them planned. He doesn't offer her sympathy. He offers her something far more valuable. The resources. The ruthlessness. The permission to become the nemesis that her enemies deserve. What follows is a collision of secrets so layered and so long-buried that nothing and no one will emerge from them unchanged. A falsified investigation. An identity that isn't what it seems. Sisters who share a face and a history full of missing pieces. And a truth so devastating. The people who broke her will learn a hard truth — they shouldn't have touched her daughter or her sister. But there's one thing about being a man's nemesis. He never sees you coming.