Bridgerton Ebooks Novels & Stories

Also do check out my other books, all are COMPLETED: First Sokolov Brothers book: Bride To Be; My Boss Is My Tormentor; CAGED- A Dark Billionaire Captîve Romance; His Broken Princess; His Steel Princess.

Everywhere was silent, I heard no one's voice. "Young Miss Victoria, you're awake! Should I bring you something to eat?" Miss Beatrice, the head maid, rushed over, her eyes filled with pity as she spoke. I glanced around, feeling disoriented. "Where is everyone?" I muttered, gripping the railing as I looked downstairs. The house felt eerily quiet, almost too still. That’s when I noticed it. The usually lively sitting room was empty—completely deserted. It felt strange, unsettling even. Miss Beatrice hesitated for a moment before speaking. "It seems you’ve forgotten. Today is Marianne and Sir Clinton’s wedding day."

He wouldn't remember the way her heart was trying to kick its way out of her ribs, or the way her hands shook as she reached up to touch his burning skin. ‘Lucien,’ she breathed, her voice small and broken. He didn't answer with words. He crashed his mouth against hers with a messy, desperate intensity. It wasn't a practiced kiss; it was the way a drowning man reaches for air. Evelyn groaned into the heat of it, her fingers digging into the damp fabric of his shirt. She pulled him closer, her nails grazing his shoulders, and for a heartbeat, she wasn't a student or a Sterling bride. She was just a woman falling into the arms of a man she had never truly known.

Not that I could do anything to her, other than hurling sharp remarks at each other. ‘Of course you can't.’ Her voice was low, almost like a whisper in my head. It was all I could do not to picture a smirking wolf. ‘Stop reading my thoughts already.’ I hissed at her as I moved to stand up from my kneeling position. ‘You and I both know I can't, but I can actually try, sorry, pretend not to hear only if you behave like a good girl and agree to be Alpha Axton's bride.’ ‘Dream on.’ I muttered outloud. ‘If you don't shut up, I swear, I will shut our communication walls.’

Hazel could only nod, though doubt filled her heart. Theo said nothing more. He simply turned and ascended the grand spiral staircase with effortless grace, leaving Hazel standing alone. The grand mansion’s air felt suffocating. Holding her breath, Hazel realized one thing: In this place that looked like paradise, hell had just begun. The night passed without pause, yet Hazel couldn’t close her eyes even for a second. The room prepared for her was magnificent—a canopy bed with pristine white silk sheets, polished wooden furniture, and a balcony overlooking the vast, softly lit garden.

Why does she act like a captive, always bowing her head in shame as if she wants to disappear? Barrett came a few weeks ago, inquiring about Gabby as a potential mate for Waylen, but he had seen another girl. We were both confused about what she was doing in their home. But when Barrett asked about her, hoping to find a mate for me, Jackson said she wasn’t available. Of course, I’m not looking for a mate, unless she is my fated and the one from my past. While Barrett and Jackson are speaking to one another, I look over at Jackson’s mate and his daughter. They are both talking on the other side of the table, while looking over at Waylen every so often.

“Did I say you could fantasise about him? No, so I wouldn’t push it if I were you, Kitten.” Smiling at him, I am glad he has realised. “So, here are the designs I drew up. Which one do you prefer, Alena?” I don’t want to choose. “Whatever Sir thinks is best.” I smile at Jackson to signal for him to choose. Demitri looks at me, shocked. “You have a good one here, Jackson.” He hands Jackson the images. “Which is why I married her.” Jackson nods towards my wedding ring. “And collared her as well. Such a shame; would be nice to share.” He jokes back, although something tells me it is not a joke. The thought of him though, with me, doesn’t feel right yet, at the same time, I am interested.

"Go away The door creaked open anyway. It wasn't my stepmother. Elizaveta stood in the doorway, wringing her hands, her eyes swollen and red from crying. She wore a gown of rich rose silk a gift from Maksim sent just that morning to celebrate their newly registered betrothal. "Inara..." she whispered, her voice trembling like a bruised leaf. "May I come in?" "You are already in," I said, my voice dead and flat. I folded a heavy wool sweater and shoved it into the corner of the iron bound trunk.