Bitter Casanova Novels & Stories

Someone texted me halfway through the wedding. The message read, "I had sex with your husband. Doesn't matter if you don't believe it." The message hit me like a hammer, and I stood petrified. Then, the texter sent another message, "Second pocket on the inside of his coat. There's a used condom there from last night. Strawberry. We were setting up the room, and one thing led to another. "We did it everywhere. Balcony, kitchen, and even in your car. He's not allergic to women. He'd gladly sleep with someone before marriage. He lied to you." Everything began to spin. I walked ahead, but my movements felt stiff. I felt as if someone was yanking me forward. I approached the aloof, abstinent man I called my husband. The same man who had to think twice before holding my hand. Sure enough, I found a pink condom in his pocket. Gasps and shouts rippled across the hall, while flashes of camera blazed and blinded the scene. I spun on my heel. That was when I saw my best friend Zoe holding up her phone beneath the stage, a gentle smile hanging on her lips. Something bitter and sad filled my heart. It took me standing here, utterly humiliated, to realize that the very thing I spent my whole life fighting for was nothing but a joke.

I stopped fighting. The moment I came back, I stepped out of the family spotlight on purpose— no arguments, no expectations, no awkward “let’s bond” moments. And somehow… that’s when my parents lost their minds. They made my little sister the heir? I congratulated them and filed my transfer to the Vegas branch the same afternoon. They threw her a massive coming-of-age gala? I smiled, booked a flight, and left before the invitations were printed. They bought her a limited-edition luxury car? I claimed my “old wrist injury” made driving impossible and insisted she take it. I thought they’d be relieved. I thought they’d finally get their perfect family without me messing up the picture. But instead—my cold, distant parents started calling nonstop. Showing up at my door. Pleading with me to come home. Asking what they did wrong. Why now? Why only when I stopped trying? Because in my last life, I spent decades clawing for their love— only to die bitter, resented, and humiliated. Even my grown son told me I was embarrassing. This time, I came back different. I refused to fight for a place in their world again. I refused to compete with my sister. I refused to beg. But the moment I stepped away… the entire family empire began to crack. And now they’re terrified. Not because I left— but because they finally realized what they lost.

On the day Tristan Spallone, the head of a mafia family, and I mark our fifth wedding anniversary, the manager of the Spallone family vault calls. Something that was stored away for a long time has finally come due, and Tristan is to retrieve it. He's so busy that he barely has a moment to breathe, so I go in his place. What I bring back is an old roll of film. The manager warned me that if it wasn’t developed soon, its age might cause it to be ruined beyond recovery. But when I have them developed, frame after frame is filled with Winnie Leigh, his first love. Her smile looks so sweet in those pictures that they nearly suffocate me. What about me, one may ask? I never once appeared on his albums. The office door slams open. Tristan bursts in, already out of breath. "Anna, is your life really so empty that you have to dig through mine?" I turn toward him, the man who's usually so composed. I neither question him nor break down. Instead, I speak slowly. "We're getting a divorce." Tristan frowns and thrusts the stack of photos into the shredder. He then looks back at me. "They're gone. Do you still want a divorce?" A bitter smile tugs at my lips. "Yes."

One day, shortly after I had experienced a miscarriage, Alan brought me a bowl of chicken soup—and a divorce agreement. "Sophia's pregnant," he had said. "So let's just leave each other like mature adults do." Chicken soup had never tasted so bitter in my life. I knew Sophia Mason—he had sponsored her education before. She was also the one who caused my miscarriage. I did not cry. I did not throw a fit. I just asked why. He looked relieved. Then, he looked at me blankly. "The truth is I can't stand you over these seven years. Every time we lie together on our bed, I just can't help but be disgusted by what your body has gone through. "I know you suffered that because of me. But I can't do it. I can't stop remembering how defiled it is. "Our kid is gone. We owe each other nothing now—so let's end it here, right now." So that was it, huh? Hilarious. He had no idea who the "defiled" one was—him. Seven years ago, I inserted a memory chip into his brain to save him. And now, in three days' time, the chip will cease to function. He will remember everything… and he will wish he were long dead.

I packed the last of my things from the apartment into a box and sent my fiancé, William, a voice message. [Let's break up.] A second later, he replied, [OK.] Across from me, my cousin Mia almost spilled her martini on the tablecloth. "You two were together for seven years, about to get engaged, and it's over just like that? How is it that when I dump a guy, it turns into a whole dramatic saga?" "Still, I have to admire you. Giving up your life as the family’s Princess to build everything from scratch with him." I slowly stirred my coffee, the bitter taste flooding my mouth. "Because he never listens to my voice messages." I tossed my phone onto the table and pushed it toward her. Her eyes landed on the screen, on a long list of unplayed voice messages. For the past seven years, my conversations with William had been a one-way street. The rare 'Mm' from him was the most enthusiastic response I could hope for. I had grown used to his cold nature long ago. Until I saw a long voice message on his phone, played in its entirety. It was from his childhood friend, Tessa. In that moment, I finally let go of the sliver of hope I had been clutching for seven years. And now, it was time for me to return to the Miller family as its heiress.

The marking ceremony had reached the moment when the Luna crown should be exchanged, but my mate in name only still refused to lower his head. Once Drake Blackwood bit the side of my neck and completed the marking, our 66th ceremony would finally become real. Yet his eyes stayed fixed on his phone, and he did not even look at me. All because his widowed sister-in-law, Scarlett Moore, had posted a claim-release statement an hour earlier. Her late husband had been Drake’s older brother. Under pack law, Drake was obligated to protect her. Attached to her post was a ticket for a private pack flight, showing that she would land in an hour. Drake suddenly rose and announced in a low voice to the elders and pack members that the marking ceremony would be postponed. Then he left me standing there alone, turning me into a joke before the entire pack. I calmly packed away the Luna crown, calmly apologized to the guests, and calmly saw everyone off. After that, I opened Scarlett’s latest post on the MoonNet feed. In the photo, Drake stood beside her, holding out a newly hunted moonstone. I gave a bitter smile and called my birth parents through the private pack link. “Father, Mother, I’m willing to come back now.” “I’ll accept the marriage alliance for the Frostvale Pack.”

After years of abuse and emotional neglect at the hands of her own family, Emma is sold to a cold city tycoon with a hidden motive. From one hard life to another, Emma learns the painful truth. Weak people have a life time of suffering ahead, while the cruel ones that prey on the weak prosper even more. She suffers deeply but learns, adopts and grows into a hard head who will serve revenge to all those that messed with her. Mr. Rowland married her to break her. And he sticks to his plan at first, but a longing for her blooms in his heart. Yet something holds him back. Behind closed doors, their war begins; pride vs desire, longing underneath hatred. Emma goes from, "I will stay strong now, my time will come." To "Hell! I will leave now, build myself and return." She rises and becomes a huge success. When she returns, she brings all her enemies to their knees, some begging for mercy, her ex-husband begging for her love and a second chance. Will she give him love or serve him hell? When secrets unravel and the truth is unveiled, only a bitter taste of the misplaced hatred remains. This is a love story that begins in hatred. Try this book for edge of the seat drama, tension and twists. A satisfying story of redemption through endurance. A story filled with betrayal, revenge, love and lust.

Olivia Jamerson spent years stewing in hidden rage for the person behind all her high-school ridicule and embarrassment. That person was none other than Joshua Taylor, son of the football coach and the famed bully of Westminster High. Students feared him, his friends revered him and teachers were sick of him. Two years after graduation and leaving town, Olivia had changed her whole appearance and character so much that no one could recognize her. Drowning in the sea of New Yorkers, Olivia finally felt that she had left her past behind and become a whole new person. At least that was the case until she bumped into the unlikeliest person she expected to meet in the big city—her old bully. Despite being annoyingly hotter than she remembered, the only thing that bothered her was that he was disturbingly nice, but worst of all, he did not remember her. Things turn a whole lot crazier when she finds out that Joshua has amnesia and when he starts flirting with her as if they did not have a complicated past. A big city, sparks and tension, and two people—one with bitter memories of their relationship and one with a blank canvas eager to fill it with potential memories. Will their tragic past catch up to them and will their horns lock once again? Will Olivia hold on to her grudges and lock him out of her life once again, or will she open her heart to the new and improved Joshua?

"You are doing good for me babygirl, spread those legs wider." he licks his lips while his eyes scan my body. I moan as my heavy eyes open, my body shaking with need, I hate the way my body reacts to him, he knows how weak I am when it comes to him, so he takes advantage of it. "That's it." he says and shoves his tongue down my throat. He was never one to shy away from a show, especially when my mate is kneeling by the door, bound in chains, and held down by two guards. "Hold him still, I want him to watch as I fuck his mate." He growled. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Bloodmoon pack was cursed by the moon goddess for 600 years. Having fated mates was no longer allowed and to enjoy the feelings of a sacred bond was forbidden. Lylah Summer, deeply in love with Thane Anthra, was hoping to celebrate their eternal bond on her eighteenth birthday. However, after the Alpha's death, Thane was chosen as the new Alpha and publicly humiliates Lylah with a brutal rejection. Devastated and determined to seek revenge, Lylah swore to take revenge. But everything changed when she met the Alpha of the Silverlake Pack, who was destined to be the mate of Darla, the Luna Heir of the dead Alpha. Will Lylah succeed in winning the heart of a man that the moon goddess has bound to another? Or will she face the bitter taste of rejection? This book is strictly 18+ Readers discretion is advised.

I took a drugged drink for Moretti, the Don I had loved for seven years. He helped Bella, my frightened sister, to her feet first. "Bella is fragile. I'll get her to the car." "Iris, wait here. I'll come back for you soon." My stomach burned like fire, but my fingers were turning cold. I stood there frozen for a long moment before a bitter laugh slipped out. It was the ninety-ninth time he had chosen Bella. In college, I once waited for him in the library with a fever, expecting him to take me home. Then Bella called and said her panic attack was back, so he told me to wait. Years later, I entered the Valtieri family and became his underboss. I balanced his books, negotiated his deals, took bullets for him. He still believed I would always wait. I bit my tongue and forced myself to stay clear-headed while I handled another round of probing from the rival family. At one in the morning, Moretti still had not come back. Bella's post appeared first. In the photo, Moretti was making her a late-night meal. That was when I understood. This time, too, he would not come back for me. And I no longer wanted to wait. I opened my phone and bought a ticket to Sicily three days later. Moretti, goodbye.