Booktok Made Me Buy It

My husband had a bizarre obsession with role-playing. In every scenario he invented, I was always the devoted wife he eventually cast aside. One day, he became the ruthless CEO who fell for the nanny; the next, he turned into a respected professor who could not resist his students. Each time he handed me a divorce agreement, watched me sign it through tears, and then tore the papers to shreds the following morning with a satisfied grin. "It's just a game, babe." That changed when my mom was in a catastrophic car accident and needed 200,000 dollars for emergency surgery. Deep in character as a penniless failure, he said, "I'm flat broke. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money for your mom?" I watched my mother take her last breath because we couldn't pay the bill. On the day of her funeral, he arrived with a pretty college student on his arm. "I've fallen in love with one of my students. It's time we get divorced." He pulled a folder from his briefcase and handed me the agreement. This time, I didn't wait for him to rip it up.

When the news of my death on the battlefield, pinned to the pack's watchtower by silver arrows, reached my pack, my Alpha mate, Killian, simply laughed. He thought I was just jealous he was going to claim the Rogue, that I was faking my own death just to get his attention. "I was just trying to bring Valerie into the pack, and this is how she threatens me? With her own death?" "I left her with my most elite warriors. How could she possibly be dead!" "Tell her to get back here. I will claim Valerie, but after that, the title of Luna is still hers." Seven days later, he appeared before my family's home, carrying the ceremonial Luna circlet. He saw me in my white ceremonial dress, resting quietly beneath the white birch tree in the garden, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "I knew it. You were just giving me the silent treatment again." But in the next second, a pack elder's voice thundered: "Prepare the funeral pyre. Let us pay our final respects to our fallen warrior, Sloane!"

I ordered an incubus online, but when the package arrived, there were two of them. One was gentle and obedient, the other was hot-tempered and unpredictable. I immediately messaged customer service to ask if they'd sent the wrong one—I had only ordered the gentle kind. The reply came cheerfully. "Congratulations, you've unlocked the hidden variant! This model is a bit special—buy one, get one free!" Wait… what? I remembered hearing people say that raising an incubus is like raising a puppy, only better—they keep you warm at night and don't shed. Well, if that's true, whether I had one or two made no difference. So I ended up paying the price of one and getting two—what a steal! Or so I thought… until I went to feed them. That's when I realized I was the cookie in the middle of a sandwich. Apparently, "keeping me warm at night" was a strenuous activity.

By the time I got home from my business trip, it was already past midnight—and my husband wasn't there. A woman's blouse lay on the sofa. It wasn't mine. I called him. He said he was working late at the office. I didn't bother with pretense. "Whose blouse is on the sofa?" His tone was light and casual. "Who else would it be? It's obviously a gift for you. Try it on." Suspicious, I picked it up and held it against myself. The blouse was clearly one size too small. "Honey, this is a size S. I always wear M." My husband owns a clothing company. He handles all my clothes. He's even used my measurements to design women's wear. There's no way he doesn't know my size. On the phone, he froze for half a second, then spoke as if piecing something together. "This is a new women's line I'm launching. I ordered custom pieces for you and my sister. I must've grabbed the wrong one. I'll switch it tomorrow." A moment later, his voice softened with exhaustion. "Babe, you've been gone for days. Without you, I feel so tired… I miss you so much…" It was already late into the night. Hearing him sound vulnerable—something he rarely did—made my chest tighten. I blamed myself for overthinking. But the moment I hung up, realization struck. His sister has the same build as me. She always wears size M.

For five years, I've played the role of Alpha Owen Winslow's secret lover. During the day, I'm his docile and humble younger adopted sister who takes good care of the entire Winslow family. At night, I lie beneath Owen's frame in bouts of passion. I've already grown accustomed to writhing my body to go along with his acts of lust. That is, until I find out that Owen has been livestreaming our lovemaking sessions to his friends this whole time. He even tells them that he'll cast me aside once he tires of me. Since he doesn't cherish my love for him, he can forget about having it ever again. As I clutch my phone tightly, I place a phone call. "Are you a lecturer at the Royal Academy? I've decided to accept your enrollment invitation."

Arabella was always under her brother's protection until she got so fed up. Because of the enormous stress she is under, Arabella now finds herself at her sister's best friend's house. Until she innocently experiences many things that commit sin. But does Arabella like it? Does the pleasure of sin make her free from her shackles all this time?

I'm a nationally certified animal trainer running the Lion King, Caesar's final assessment. I've barely stepped into the enclosure corridor when the steel guillotine door slams down behind me. My wife's laughter crackles over the loudspeaker. "Everyone, we're doing the ultimate challenge today! We're locking the so-called number-one animal trainer in the Lion King's enclosure and taking bets on whether he wets himself in ten minutes!" Caesar crouches low and rumbles a warning. I reach for my tranquilizer gun but stop cold. The liquid isn't the right color. In a phony sing-song voice, the veterinarian, Hugh Archer, says, "Lucian, I forgot to mention, I swapped your tranquilizer darts for pepper spray so you won't hurt Caesar by mistake. "You two are so close. Just win him over with love!" I look at Caesar, his eyes bloodshot from the stimulant, and it clicks. Hugh still resents that I stopped him from touching a tiger with his bare hands a few days ago. I tune out the trash blaring over the loudspeaker, pull a remote from my pocket, and hit the button. It's the master switch for the electric fence gates around every predator enclosure in the zoo. If I don't make it out, no one does.

When I was ten years old, I sold my mother to human traffickers. My father calls me an ungrateful monster, a devil. He sues me 99 times, but each time, I am found not guilty because I am under 14. In the end, on his way to bring my mother home, he is beaten to death by the men in that village. 20 years later, my younger sister finally brings our mother—now unable to walk and mentally unstable—out of the village. She starts a livestream and breaks down in tears. "I beg the internet to put my devil of a sister on trial. Don’t let her get away with this! She destroyed my family. I will make sure she loses everything!" But only I know… My mother deserves it.

He watched her for a long moment, the anger in his eyes unmistakable. She imagined he was thinking of ways to punish her, but nothing prepared her for what he said next. "Strip." It was one word, but she doubted if she heard him correctly the first time, was he really going to punish her? "What… what was that?" She asked innocently. "Strip, Nancy." "I won't." "So you refuse me, I see." he said it lightly, the evil smile still playing on his lips. "That will not stop me from having you though" "You won't." She said firmly "Won't I?" She had expected to arouse his anger tonight, but nothing prepared her for the icy rage that contorted his features and the resentment and coldness in his eyes. "Has he touched you yet?" Derek asked suddenly, his eyes still hard on her and his look ever so cold. "Depends on the kind of touch you mean," She replied in a soft, tempting voice, "He has touched me in certain ways. But you are my husband and I should not be telling you that.” "No," he returned coldly. "We are just master and slave, nothing else links us.” ***** Forced to marry against their will, Nancy must not only prove to Derek Lincoln that she was never his lost betrothed, but she must also prove to the parents of his real betrothed that she is not their daughter. But when a man is this beautiful and yet so arrogant, God knows loving him could not be so difficult. Except he is strongly involved with his mistress, who would give anything to have him, even if it meant killing his present wife. But was he worth it? Nay. To him, she is just a personal whore.

By day, Don Pope is the untouchable king of Cross City’s financial empire. By night, he is something far darker—an infamous mafia don whose enemies vanish before dawn. Ethan Cole never intended to cross paths with a monster like him. One quiet night drive across the city turns into a nightmare when Ethan is kidnapped by masked men and thrown into an underground cage beneath the most luxurious mansion in Cross City—Don Pope’s estate. When the Don himself descends to inspect the prisoners his men captured, something unexpected happens. The moment Don Pope looks into Ethan’s eyes, he stops walking. He was supposed to pass the cage. Instead, he orders the others released… except for Ethan. What begins as cruel possession soon spirals into something neither of them expected. Don becomes obsessed with the fiery captive who refuses to bow to him. Ethan swears he would rather die than submit to the ruthless mafia lord. But obsession is a dangerous thing. What starts with violence slowly becomes dependence. Hatred becomes something far more complicated. And in a city built on betrayal, blood, and power, the line between captor and lover begins to blur. As war erupts between rival mafia families and secrets about Ethan’s past begin to surface, Don Pope must choose between his empire and the one man who refuses to belong to him. Because some loves are not meant to exist, but some destinies are written in the blood.