Bodice Ripper Readers Anonymous

On New Year's Eve, Facebook blew up. The reason was that Bennett Miles, the golden boy of Crestmoor’s elite, posted an update. In the photo, a shy young woman hid her face as she leaned against his shoulder while he grinned. His eyes were full of affection and mischief. His caption read, "What do I do? Looks like I'm officially taken." Friends in his circle flooded the comment section with congratulations. The real frenzy began when Bennett announced that the first 10,000 followers to like, share, and comment on the post would each receive a gold bar. The internet went wild with envy and curiosity. Everyone scrambled to find out more about the woman in the picture. Then, someone claiming to have inside information started a livestream. "Stop guessing. Her name is Kara Sierra. You know Sierra Hall at Crestmoor College? That building was named after her! "Two years ago, she had kidney failure. Bennett personally donated one of his own kidneys to save her!"

After working five years as Ethan Moore's ghost architect, he once again handed off the position of the project lead to someone else. As usual, he dangled the carrot in my face. “Think about the bigger picture, Arya. Just wait a little longer. Until the firm’s next round of funding, and we get listed on the stock market, I promise I’ll make you the lead architect of the next project…” When I was twenty-one, I was a fool who willingly staked everything in an uncertain future with him. Now, I am twenty-eight. Years of waiting and endless revisions of blueprints had whittled away all the love and courage I once had. I packed up my portfolio and gave up on my lifelong dream of becoming an architect in Manhattan. I gave up on him as well. I’m not waiting anymore, Ethan.

After my older sister, Cecilia, and I hit adulthood, our parents dropped a bomb: one of us had to run the family business, the other had to marry into the Spencer family in Norwick City. Cecilia, blinded by greed, called dibs on the company without blinking. Problem was, she was all talk. Spent her days jet-setting and partying while the business tanked. Within a year, she'd burned it all to the ground. Me? I got the Spencer name and popped out two boys, locking in my spot as the rich wife. Cecilia couldn't handle it. Jealousy made her snap—she straight-up stabbed me at a family party. Next thing I knew, I was back on the day we had to choose. Cecilia didn't even pause. "I'll marry into the Spencer family. The business can go to Demi." I laughed. My poor, clueless sister—she had no idea she was walking straight into hell.

My husband drives me out so I can meet my best friend for an afternoon tea session. That's when I discover a used condom and a stray earring wedged between the door and the front passenger seat. I'm distraught as I head to the restaurant. My best friend hugs me warmly, but the lone earring she wears pierces my heart. I don't expose them for their betrayal. Instead, I fall into bed with my husband's best friend that very night. Later, James Fullman roars and asks why I've done this to him. I smile faintly and lean into the embrace of the man beside me. "You're not the only one who can get hot and heavy in the front passenger seat, you know."

Incarcerated in a private prison known as the Vampire Room and worshiped by prison groupies, Bohdan the Vampire Ripper longs for the day when he will be set free or die. For years he has been used as a cash cow by the new prison owners as the star attraction and with the help of an insider escapes to a world he hasn’t seen for over a hundred years. Spanning two centuries and two cultures, this tale follows an obsessed woman who will do anything to have and keep her prize, the most notorious vampire of all time. Follow the adventures of Bohdan the Vampire Ripper and Cara, the woman who tries to save him from himself.

My husband, Zachary Larson, and I are holding a welcome dinner for my sister, Julia Scott. When someone asks what Julia's greatest regret is, she raises her glass and looks at Zachary dreamily. "It's probably the time I wasn't brave enough to keep his child." Everyone starts to whisper amongst themselves. I tighten my grip on the pregnancy check-up report I'm about to reveal to them. My stomach twists with the emotions swirling in my head. Julia suddenly returns to her senses and chuckles. "I was just kidding. We were only friends with benefits, so don't take it to heart, Queenie. He married you, so you're the one he loves."

It was the day of our marriage. We were supposed to meet up at the City Hall, but my fiancee stood me up. I waited for her the whole day, and the only answer I got was a picture from her assistant. My girlfriend sat astride on his lap, and her arms were wrapped around his neck while they were locked in a deep kiss. "Sorry, Mr. Terraton. Sophie insisted on comforting me. You don't mind, do you?" I demanded answers from my girlfriend, but that only made her impatient. "He donated his blood to me. Yeah, I was with him, but so what? Man up, will you?" That killed any love I had for her, and I called my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend's sister. "Hey, Sylvie. Yeah, about your proposal. So will you marry me?"

My wife, Rosalind Judd, has been tearing up our marriage certificate 99 times in the past ten years of our marriage. This is her usual tactic to make me apologize and make amends. The first time, I transfer 100 thousand dollars for Rosalind to come back from her travel abroad with her childhood friend, Jackson Lane. The tenth time, she ruins the anniversary I have prepared meticulously and forces me to immediately help him get back to work. The 50th time, she humiliates me in front of my client during the day and forces me to sign over the transfer agreement to a villa at night, while she has a candlelit dinner with Jackson. ... Now, for the 100th time, she forces me to transfer my company shares. Staring at the love bites on Rosalind's collarbone, I suddenly chuckle. Then, I board the plane decisively. This time, I no longer want her.

By our sixth year of marriage, Derrick hadn't touched me in three months. Said he was swamped at work. Always tired. After everything, I still believed him. Then on my birthday, I caught his friend talking in Garmenian—a language Derrick didn't think I understood. "You cut off the side piece yet? You were with her nonstop. Surprised you didn't drop dead. Your wife cool with that?" Derrick let out a smoke ring. "Haven't touched Audrey in months. Sabrina's insane in bed—I'm not over her yet. Sucks she got pregnant. Audrey doesn't want kids, so I gave Sabrina some cash. She'll have the baby overseas." My hands curled into fists. Silent tears streamed down my face. He glanced over, nervous. "What's wrong?" I smiled. "The cake you made is amazing. I'm really touched." It was sweet—but when you understand Garmenian, all you taste is betrayal.

My mom, who works as a lawyer, decides to take me to court just because I refuse to donate my platelets to my younger sister, Lindsey Finch. I explained to her that I have a blood clotting disorder, and having an extremely low platelet count would put my life at risk. But she screamed at me through tears: “Can’t you just stop pretending? Do you really have to let your sister die? How could I have raised such an ungrateful wretch?” I lost the case, and my platelets were forcibly taken. I suffered a massive hemorrhage and died a miserable death alone in a deserted corner.