Custom Pocketbook Novels & Stories

After the college entrance exam, the school's reigning beauty dragged me into a wager over our scores. "Only the girl with the higher marks is worthy of being Eric's girlfriend." Eric Lowell scoffed. "That's enough, Jocelyn. My relationships aren't yours to dictate." Then, in front of everyone, he confessed to me. I mistook it for the answer to a long-held crush. With the crowd egging us on, I flushed and said yes. That night, he took me back to his place. From then on, we hardly spent a night apart. Before application season, I went to his house, hoping we would apply to the same university. Instead, I overheard part of a phone call. "Jocelyn, everything's ready: the photos, the videos. Just like you asked." Jocelyn's laughter drifted through the receiver, light and pleased. "You must've gone to so much trouble~ Then let's wait until the school assembly the day after tomorrow and stream it to the whole school. I'm curious to see how Tessa plans on applying to those top-tier universities after that." "Eric," she added casually, "you're not having second thoughts, are you?" He hesitated, then answered, "Why would I? If anyone's at fault, it's her for not knowing her place. What right does she have to keep scoring higher than you?" I set the custom ring down, opened my email, and accepted the Oxford offer that had been waiting for me for a week.

I am born with a body that draws men in, but the moment I marry, I develop a terrifying allergy to them. Every time my husband and I try to be intimate, my skin erupts in violent rashes, and I nearly suffocate. Still, I want a child so badly that one night I climb into his bed in secret, willing to gamble with my life. Strangely, nothing happens—no hives, no swelling, no shortness of breath. My husband even takes me to a clinic, where the baby is confirmed healthy. For the first time, I believe life can return to normal. Eight months in, we share a bed again. The allergic reaction hits instantly, worse than ever, and I'm rushed to the hospital. When the procedure ends, he is nowhere to be seen. I step into the hallway and hear him talking with his friends. "Did you see her face? Swollen like that. Ridiculous." Leonard Carter swings a vial of the custom serum he has been giving me and snorts. "I engineered this formula myself. It makes her break out the second a man touches her. It keeps her off me. "She wanted a baby so badly. Fine. She's carrying mine and Hannah's. That should make her feel accomplished. "When she gives birth, I'll let her spend the rest of her life calling herself Mrs. Carter." Blood drains from my face. The child I've been cherishing isn't even mine.

On the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I collapsed in the pack clinic after my ninety-ninth blood donation to my twin sister, Maeve. She'd been cursed since birth—a curse that could only be sustained by my blood. Our shared bond from the womb was the only thing keeping the dark magic at bay. When I woke up, the healer told me I had developed Aplastic anemia—a rare condition where my bone marrow was failing. Years of constant donations had finally broken my body down, and my wolf, Aurora, was too weak to fight it. I rushed to tell my family, hoping that this time would be different, only to find them at the bakery ordering a custom birthday cake with only Maeve's name on it. They'd forgotten my birthday entirely, even though we were twins born five minutes apart. At first, my sacrifice was met with love and praise. Now, it was nothing more than an obligation everyone expected. My family had chosen Maeve over me countless times before. This time, I decided to choose myself. I had two weeks before I would slip away from this pack house and their lives. Two weeks to prepare everything in silence while they remained oblivious. They would think I'd finally learned my place as Maeve's blood supply. But they would never realize I was counting down the days until I disappeared from their lives forever. By then, it would be too late.

On the day of our wedding, my fiancé, Shawn Chandler, insisted that I wear a bridesmaid’s dress while having a million-dollar wedding gown custom-made for his childhood sweetheart. “Jessica said she wants to fulfill her dream of wearing a wedding dress. She’s been looking forward to seeing me get married since she was little.” I threw the bridesmaid’s dress into the trash. His expression darkened as he scolded me, “Why are you so unreasonable? Even if you wear a bridesmaid’s dress, you’ll still be the bride. And if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pregnant, I wouldn’t be marrying you at all!” Placing my hand over my belly, I slammed the door and left. That night, he posted wedding photos with Jessica Jordan on his social media. Five years later, Shawn and I met again at a charity gala. He was invited as a specially invited donor, with Jessica by his side in a custom designer gown. The two behaved intimately. When he saw me crouching in a corner sorting a donated box of old clothes, he frowned and walked over. “Tiana Larrinson, you refused to wear that bridesmaid’s dress back then, and now, you’ve fallen so low that you’re rummaging through other people’s old clothes? “Look at you, sneaking into events like this by picking through scraps. You should’ve just listened to me back then.” I was confused, and it took me a long time to remember who he was. What he did not know was that the items up for auction at this charity gala were my and my daughter's old clothes.

During the mandatory freshman orientation camp, my skin had flared up with a severe allergic reaction, so I didn't use the plastic washbasin the school handed out. Instead, I opened my suitcase and took out the custom silver basin I had brought from home. My roommate, Louisa Carter, immediately made a snide remark, drawling, "You're really something, huh? Kids from broke families like us are lucky to have any basin at all." I didn't bother responding. I simply pulled out my facial essence to do a cold compress, but she immediately rushed over, slapped the bottle out of my hand, and jabbed a finger at my face. "Bet you get tens of thousands a month for living expenses. You have a sugar daddy, don't you? Don't you feel guilty making your folks work their fingers to the bone back on the farm? People like you don't deserve to be at our school. I'm reporting you to the student counselor." I laughed in disbelief and slapped her. … The next morning, the family photo I'd left on my desk had been slashed to ribbons. Across the back, carved in ink, were the words: 'Daughter of a homewrecker. Go to hell.' I went straight to the police. While officers pulled the dorm security footage, our student counselor and the university president rushed in. The moment the president saw the man whose face had been cut apart in my photo, his legs nearly buckled. He almost dropped to his knees.

When Eloise Garpin, my daughter, comes back from kindergarten, she tells me that her teacher, Karen Linsell, has given her class a weird assignment. Apparently, everyone is to record their mothers' menstrual week. But what makes things weirder is that whenever I'm on my period, John Garpin, my husband who's often busy with work, keeps offering to pick Eloise up from kindergarten. One day, I come across a post on a social media app. "What should I do? I've fallen in love with my student's rich father! Oh dear, I really like him so much! You have no idea that his taut and slim waist looks so seductive! Every time I see him, I can't help but moan!" Someone begins admonishing her out of fury the moment they see the post. "What the hell? Are you itching to become a mistress? You really are shameless! Goodness, you're so disgusting! I can't believe you call yourself a teacher!" Unexpectedly, the original poster doesn't care about the comment at all. She even posts a photo featuring the aftermath of her carnal fun with the man. "So what if I am? Anyway, we regularly sleep together every month whenever he picks his daughter up during his wife's period. This is so thrilling!" I'm stunned when I see the million-dollar custom watch strapped to the man's wrist in the photo. And today… happens to be the first day of my period.

Seraphina Rowe never wanted a mate. She wanted freedom, a job in the city, her own apartment, and a life far away from the endless traditions of wolf society. But when her father’s sudden illness forces her back to her hometown, she is caught in an ancient custom she can’t refuse: the Marriage Lottery. Every year, unmated wolves from allied towns are bound into arranged unions chosen by the Elders, meant to keep peace among families. Seraphina’s name was never supposed to be drawn. But when it is, she finds herself betrothed to Kaelen Ardyn, the boy who once humiliated her at school, the arrogant son of a respected family, the wolf who made it clear he would never want her. Kaelen rejects her on the night of the ceremony, in front of the entire community. Shattered and desperate, Sera leaves the town, carrying his child in secret. For three years she raises her daughter in silence, building a small, quiet life far from the suffocating traditions of her kind. But fate has its claws. When the Marriage Lottery is threatened by rebellion and the wolves demand accountability for the “failed bond,” Seraphina is summoned back. This time, Kaelen is not allowed to reject her again, he must claim her, or their families will pay the price. Trapped in a marriage neither of them wanted, bound by a child Kaelen doesn’t yet know exists, they must navigate lies, jealousy, betrayal, and the dangerous pull of a bond that refuses to break. And when Kaelen discovers her secret, the rejection that once shattered her may turn into his greatest regret or their only chance at salvation.

After I came back to life, the first thing I did was hand that five-carat diamond ring—yes, the one my husband gave me—to his mother. The very woman who spent years picking me apart like it was her favorite pastime. In my last life, that ring was a custom New Year's gift. He paid a ridiculous amount for it. I actually thought it meant something. One afternoon, I was out shopping when I walked right into a bridal party taking pictures. The bride glanced at my hand, saw the ring, and her entire expression changed. She stormed over and slapped me, accusing me of being a shameless mistress trying to steal her man. I stood there, completely stunned. She was wearing the exact same ring. Before I could explain, her friends grabbed me. They dragged me aside, tore my clothes, hit me, and stomped on my hand until I couldn't move my fingers. They carved the word "mistress" into my face and paraded me through the street like some kind of public disgrace. I died there on the pavement. When my husband finally appeared, he didn't fight for me. He just signed off on a settlement, as if my life were nothing more than a piece of paperwork. Widowed that morning, married to the bride by nightfall. His mother instantly welcomed the new woman, all because she was pregnant. And then I opened my eyes again… back on the very day he first placed that diamond ring in my hand.

I married Leander Ivanov for love – even if our life together was more steady than passionate. After two years of building a quiet life side by side, I thought we were finally ready to start a family. I planned to tell him I was pregnant on his 30th birthday, surrounded by his favorite meal and the custom watch I’d spent months creating just for him. But when I turn on the news, I see him with Wren Harris – his first love, back in town after five years abroad. They look like the perfect couple, and the way he looks at her makes my heart shatter into pieces. When he comes home, he claims it was just a coincidence – but then Wren shows up at our door, wearing my watch and revealing the flowers he gave me were meant for her. As Wren and her mysterious business partner Leon Rossi weave their way into our lives, I start to suspect there’s more to their return than meets the eye. The rumors about a hostile takeover of Ivanov Industries aren’t just gossip – they’re part of a dangerous plan to destroy everything Leander’s family built. Now I have to fight for my marriage, my unborn child, and the company that means everything to the man I love. But can I trust Leander to choose us over the woman he once thought was his soulmate? And will the truth be enough to save us when lies threaten to tear our world apart?

On the night before the wedding, my fiancé’s female best friend, Marisol Vance, sent me a set of photos. In the photos, she wore the custom haute couture wedding gown I had commissioned, leaning into Lucian Drake’s arms, with a caption meant to provoke me: [Borrowing your groom and your dress for a moment—after all, Lucian said I look better in this than you do.] Soon after, my social feed was flooded with their so-called wedding photos. In the images, the two of them staged a mock kiss, the caption reading: [More than friends, not quite lovers. If we had been born ten years earlier, there would have been no place for anyone else.] I held up the photos and confronted Lucian, yet he played his game indifferently, then tossed his phone aside, his face full of impatience. “I told you, it was just for fun—a way to commemorate our youth. Can you stop acting like a shrew? She was just diagnosed with depression. What’s wrong with me comforting her?” Looking at his self-righteous expression, I smiled. “Fine. Since your bond is so unbreakable, I won’t play the villain.” That very night, I drafted a withdrawal agreement and halted the arrangements I had been making with a top-tier overseas medical team for his mother. “The wedding is off. Don’t expect me to keep patching up your bankrupt company, and don’t expect me to save your mother either. “Your youth is precious—I hope you can afford to pay the price to keep it so.”