Bonanza Brand Fanfiction

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."

After following my grandfather abroad for five years of training, he finally entrusted me with the family authority—something he had given me with complete satisfaction. But my stepmother and my three younger stepbrothers were anything but pleased. Ever since I returned home, they had been blasting those ridiculous "real heiress versus fake heiress" dramas throughout the house, day after day. Sometimes openly, sometimes in veiled remarks, they hinted that I didn't resemble my father at all. On the day of my twentieth birthday—my official debut before the public—they even brought in a complete stranger and tried to brand me as the impostor. My stepmother looked at me, the corner of her lips curling in disdain. "Where did this counterfeit come from? Even if you're wearing a stolen gown, you can't hide that cheap, shabby air about you." My three younger stepbrothers shoved me to the ground, shielding the girl beside them—the one wearing my family's heirloom necklace. "We only have one sister, and that's Camellia! Wherever you came from, go back there!" In an instant, the guests' mocking gazes all converged on me. And in the very next second, I stepped forward and slapped my stepmother across the face. "If anyone should be leaving, it's you. Take a good look at what this is!" Then, the moment they saw what I was holding in my hand, the entire room fell into stunned silence.

Brandon Montgomery's life is like a triangle. It revolves around work, himself, and then ways to have fun. He’s careful enough not to have anything to do with any woman because of the sour taste of love his runaway bride, Lizzy made him go through. He decides to get a break from everything by moving into a new city. Unfortunately for him, his new neighbor, Angeline “Angie” Mathers keeps getting on his nerves leaving him at a crossroads, where he has to choose between letting go of his rigid lifestyle and embracing the new experience of love or sticking with his normal life. “Trust” for Brandon isn’t just a word he is not accustomed to but one he has no interest in when it comes to the topic of women and love in general. Angeline Mathers, who everyone calls Angie is the fun loving, cheerful and sweet girl everyone in her part of Finland loves. She hasn’t had her best of luck with love too, but she’s always open to adventure and a chance for romance once again. When she sets her eyes on Brand it isn’t love at first sight, and the two don’t like each other in any way. But there is always a thin line between hate and love. And once Angie and Brandon cross that line there’s no going back. Misunderstandings will ensue, wills will clash and both Brandon and Angie would be torn between choosing each other or dwelling in their past. It seems like an easy task. But can Brandon bring himself to care for another woman again? especially one he has to trust?

Over the Fourth of July weekend, I took my boyfriend's sister to his flashy new influencer hub. Fresh off brain surgery, Benedetta Griffin needed a break from her recovery, and I hoped the trip would lift her spirits. In the hub, a streamer was hawking a face cream like a carnival barker. "Listen, fam! The boss lady is slashing prices. Get this $3,800 cream for just $398 today!" Benedetta tugged my sleeve. "That cream is bad news." She'd interned at the FDA last summer and could spot a scam from a mile away. "It's packed with steroids. Long-term use will ruin your skin." Driven by her sense of justice, she marched up to the streamer. "You can't sell this unlicensed junk. The steroids exceed legal limits. Pull it from the shelves." Morgan Lamb froze, but then her fake smile twisted into a scowl. "Who the hell are you to trash my product?" Benedetta didn't back down. "You're scamming people, and you know it." Morgan planted her hands on her hips. "I'm the boss lady here. How dare you slander my brand? Nobody leaves until you cough up $500,000 for damages." "Boss lady?" My stomach churned. My boyfriend's sudden venture into the streaming industry now made sense. He was sinking money into this hub to bankroll his lover. I fumbled for my phone to call him, but Morgan was faster. "Babe, get to the hub. Two haters crashed the party, trying to tank our business."

After my husband, Trevor Penn, abuses me for the 98th time just to stand up for Callista Whitcombe, I've completely given up on him. That's when I accept his best friend, Maddox Harlow's confession. After spending the night with Maddox, he agrees to help me fake my death. That way, I'll be able to use a brand new identity to marry him overseas. I've taken the fake-death drug Maddox has given to me, only to wake up in a coffin earlier than expected. I can't move a single muscle in my body. But that's when I overhear Maddox's conversation with another person outside the coffin. "Mr. Harlow, you convinced Trevor to abuse Judith before pretending to save her from her abusive life. Now that you've obtained her full-fledged trust, why did you still arrange for her to be buried after faking her death?" "Only by doing this will the Whitcombes trust that Judith is truly dead. That way, Callie's position as the heiress will be unshakable. No one will ever bring up the fact that she's an illegitimate child ever again." The other person sounds hesitant. "Won't it be too long if we only dig the coffin out one week from now, after you've held the wedding with Callista?" "The fake-death drug's effects can last for five days. I've already had someone put enough water, food, and oxygen tanks in the coffin. There's no way Judith will die."

He's sugar. She's spice. Together, they will never work. She has done the impossible. Working for the country's most difficult boss for seven years. Rosaline Carter's work life is fueled by her love for spicy food, a fat paycheck, and dreams of sending her brother to Harvard. She's sworn off love completely. Until that fateful monday morning. "I need a fiancée, Miss Carter. And I need one who at least knows my favourite brand of coffee." A contract marriage to her boss, the impossible and difficult Alaric Sylvester? Rosaline never even saw him as a man to begin with. But for five billion dollars? She would propose to Mr Ice king and plan the wedding alone. Alaric Sylvester hates his assistant. With her sensible shoes, horn rimmed glasses, and perfectly polite way of speaking, she never fails to get on his nerves. She's the last person he wants for a wife, or even a romantic figure. Yet she's the best option. No one knows his schedule by heart, or his love for sweets. It's just three years. And he'll never see her again. With his inheritance on the line, the board of directors hounding him for being too antisocial, and rumours starting to stir...he will do anything to save his reputation. Including marrying his cold hearted assistant. And with her hatred for sweets, he's sure he'll never like her. It's only a marriage agreement. The terms were simple. But simple doesn't always equal easy. And the human heart is a traitorous beast.

Three days before the wedding, I was cleaning out some old boxes when I remembered the time capsule Natasha Rowe and I buried ten years ago. When I mentioned it, her face stiffened for a moment. She quickly tried to talk me out of going. "It's been so long," she said. "Someone probably dug it up already." I didn't think much of it and went back to our old high school alone. At the spot where we buried it, I started digging. Instead of one box, I pulled out five metal containers of different sizes. Two of them were the ones Natasha and I buried ten years ago, their surfaces rusted and worn. But there were three others. One of them was just as rusted as ours. The other two looked almost brand new. The old extra box had a name scratched into the lid. Vince Houle. On it were the words, [My secret crush was a war I fought alone. Natasha, I hope you're happy.] I remembered him then. He had been a quiet guy who sat behind us in class. The kind of student no one really noticed. The two newer boxes had names carved into them, too. Natasha and Vince. The date etched into both of them was today. On Natasha's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I couldn't marry you.] On Vince's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I can't openly congratulate you on getting married.]

“Be my wife.” Lucia looked at him, questioning his sanity. “You're out of your mind.I don't even know you ”. Lucas Mariano's voice was icy, his gaze unreadable. “You need help.Your sister requires care.I can help you both.You have quite the image so I'm sure you'll need it. It's transactional-nothing more.”He finished. Once the rising star in the ballet world, Lucia Moretti's life is shaken after a brutal divorce and a terrible fire that leaves her and her sister homeless. Now, with her dreams buried,her heart is guarded and her main focus is keeping both herself and her sister alive. Enter Lucas-Merciless, cold and sinfully compelling.He offers a contract marriage which comes with everything Lucia needs but at a cost she doesn't understand…yet. What started as a formality quickly grows into something far more twisted when her ex-husband,Matt-lucas’s best friend-returns, determined to have her again. “You got married to Lucas?” Matt snarled,fury dripping from his voice. “Is this your revenge?” He continued icily. No, Lucia said without emotion. “This is survival.” As sparks fly and secrets come to light, Lucia Finds herself torn between a past that nearly broke her and a man who might shatter her in a brand new way. In a world of socialites, betrayal and fake love, Lucia must ask herself: Is she the puppet or the one holding the strings?

Desire doesn't tempt—it fucking consumes. It sinks its teeth into your morals, rips them apart, and leaves you dripping, desperate, and damned. This isn't romance. This is dark, obsessive, boundary-shattering filth. *Wet, Willing and Forbidden* delivers EXPLICIT ADULT CONTENT—throbbing cocks plunging deep, slick cunts clenching in surrender, mouths stretched around forbidden flesh, every raw, graphic thrust laid bare. These stories devour you with: - Obsession teetering on total ruin - Possessive, morally black lovers who brand skin with teeth and ownership - Brutal power exchange—collars, commands, choking grips - Dubious consent that melts resistance into frantic, quivering need - Public risk—fingers curling inside soaked panties in crowded elevators - Exhibitionism & voyeurism—eyes devouring heaving tits and straining cocks - Praise laced with vicious degradation—“good slut” hissed through gritted teeth - Total control, shattering surrender, deliberate corruption of the innocent - Feral, animal hunger—bodies slamming, clawing, flooding with sweat and cum - Secrets that torch reputations and leave lives in smoking ruins - Queer and fluid desire—tangled limbs, shared mouths, no rules - Toxic emotional manipulation—love as poison, addiction as chains Every page pulses with predatory chemistry and psychological heat. No safe words. No gentle aftercare. Just the brutal thrill of crossing lines that should never be touched. If your pulse isn't already racing and your thighs aren't already slick open this book anyway. Because once the craving takes hold, you'll be too far gone to stop.

There's this thing that my mom keeps repeating to me. "I love my children equally. I will always treat you and Brielle the same." It's true that I get everything my sister, Brielle Montgomery, has since we were children. If Brielle has a new backpack, I do too. If Brielle goes for piano lessons, I'll be given the opportunity to attend the same lessons. When I go home for the holidays, my mom digs out two beautiful shopping bags sporting luxury brand logos. With a smile on her face, she hands them to us. "I specifically went to the store to buy you nice coats. Both of you get a coat each. I'll have you know that coats with wool linings are worth thousands of dollars. I don't even have the heart to wear one of these coats. I only bought these coats for you two." As I gaze at the expensive-looking coat, I feel warmth surging into my heart. But when I try on the coat, I feel a weird, scratchy sensation coming from my armpits. After flipping the coat inside out, I notice a few strands of long, dry hair tightly entangled among the seams. I even smell a faint trace of mold mixed with a strong hint of rot that can't be covered up by the cheap fragrance on the coat.