Don't Call Me Home Novels & Stories

"There should be rules if we are even going to do this," he said without looking at me. "I have always lived by the rules." He slid a file towards me. "This is the contract. The rules are stated there." I opened the file and glanced through it. "You can take it home and study them; give me feedback tomorrow evening. But I will read out the rules for you now because they start now, and in case your brain can't comprehend them, then I can explain." Anger seethed through me, and I almost threw the file back at him, but when I thought about the money involved and how it would benefit little Sophie, I bit my lower lip to push back the anger. He continued. "Rule number one; don't you fall in love with me." His eyes flipped up to me. "Crystal clear," I said. "That would never happen." Ellen never had fun in college. One night she decided to have fun with her friends and slept with a handsome stranger who disappeared before she woke up. A month later, she found out she was pregnant and searched everywhere for him, but to no avail. Five years later, she moved to a new city and met the same man she never thought she would ever see again. He didn't remember anything about her, and he was now a cold, arrogant man who needed a wife, and she needed money. They agreed to contract marriage with strict rules, one of them being never to fall in love with each other. They were sure they wouldn't break the rule, but as sparks grew between them and became too much, they found themselves trying hard to keep to the rules. Who will break rule number one between them?

After a 12-year absence, Austin returns to the horse farm in Wyoming she has always considered her true home. But things have changed, and the farm she inherited comes with some enemies - one of them being the Carter family. Cortland Carter now handles his family's affairs and is determined to get the water rights back from his neighbor, who won them from his grandfather in a poker game. Fate has a funny way of bringing people together, and when Austin saves Cortland's niece, the two finally meet. Despite the feud between their families, they both feel a mutual attraction that cannot be denied. But with their families at odds, is there any hope for a future together? "Coming Home" is a heartwarming tale of love and betrayal.

"I need an answer, Collins. Or is your guilt eating you up so bad that..." "There is no guilt," he deadpans, the weight of his words resting on my shoulders, making them sag in sorrow. "It was only a matter of time until you found out. I want to say I'm sorry, but that would be me lying..." Blood rushes to my ears. I can't believe what I'm hearing. "What? You're... you're not — " "No," he shrugs. "You brought this upon yourself." "Excuse me? I made you cheat?" "Yes." ----------------------- When hotshot billionaire mogul Collins Black propositions her to be his wife, twenty-two-year-old, script writer Anna Whitfield believes she's the luckiest woman on earth. But things quickly go sour when one year later, she discovers that Collins has been cheating on her with her best friend, Diana. What's worse? Collins proposes to Diana on a night which is supposed to be the most important night of her life. Enraged, and frustrated, Anna begs the nearest man she can find for a kiss to spite her ex-husband. But the man who obliges isn't just any man, but the most powerful mafia don in Russia. Viktor Ivanov. [NOTE: This is an ex-husband/mafia romance. You’re guaranteed to have a swell time reading. Do enjoy]

Every April Fools’ Day, Wilson Hale and Chloe Mercer turned our anniversary into a joke. A fake proposal. A trick ring. A room full of laughter. And every year, Wilson was sure I loved him too much to leave. This year, cake cream slid down my face, my ring hit the marble floor, and he still smiled like I would forgive him by morning. He forgot one thing. I was not Vivian Gray, the lonely girl with nowhere to go. I was Vivian Vescari, daughter of the most feared mafia family on the East Coast. I had left that world because I wanted to be loved before anyone knew my name. For six years, I thought Wilson was that man. Then I learned even his first confession had been an April Fools’ bet. So I stopped being the joke. I went home.

Elena Jones and I became orphans on the same day. Her parents are killed in a mass murder, and my father—the killer—is executed on the spot. For a month straight, Harborfield's most notorious playboy waits outside the courthouse, intent on keeping Elena. However, she throws his black card right back at him, like a headstrong heroine straight out of a movie. "The Mr. Carter I admire is refined and noble. How could he have a nephew like you? I'd rather starve than accept anything from a thug." He lets out a sharp, amused laugh and crooks a finger at me. "A death row convict's daughter and a thug make a fitting pair. I'll back you. Are you willing?" While clutching the ten-million-dollar IOU my father left behind, I nod without hesitation. Later, he orders me to get into his uncle Daniel Carter's bed. "With all that sin on your shoulders, you're an even better match for him. That way, Elena will finally give up on him for good."

A CHRISTMAS STEAMY LOVE STORY... Alone at Christmas time is not an amazing thing! But for newly divorced Starlight Maxwell is the best thing that happened to her lately… Back in Smithville, her hometown, she is trying to move on with her life. At least this was her plan initially… She’s shocked to discover her ex-husband has rented out her childhood home to the person Starlight swore not to see ever again: Elijah Thomas, her high school sweetheart… all grown-up and absolutely gorgeous. Apparently, Starlight’s libido doesn’t care that Elijah shattered her heart eight years ago... With the holidays looming and his presence in her house driving her wild, Starlight strikes a bargain with him: twelve days of no-strings sex. Just so she can get him out of her system. But when the twelve red-hot days of Christmas are over, Starlight isn’t sure she can say goodbye to Elijah…

When Adrian and I broke up, he knelt outside my door all night. When I finally agreed to get back together, he lit a bonfire in the main hall, invited the elders to witness it, and swore I would become his Luna. Then, right at the finish line of a racetrack, he hauled a trembling, sobbing blonde girl out of the “trophy,” draped his jacket over her shoulders, and turned gentle like he’d become a different man. He looked back at me and said, “Ann, don’t make a scene. She ended up like this because of us.” The next day, he said I should atone by pack law, kneel inside a vow circle drawn with salt and silver powder, and endure my wolf soul’s backlash under the moonlight. Later, he threw me into the basement she used to live in, forced me to survive the way she did, forced me to lower my head and apologize. What he didn’t know was that there was a little pup in my belly. And I wasn’t going to tell him. I’d wait until he was most off guard, slide the divorce papers in front of him, let him sign them with his own hand, then vanish cleanly and absolutely, with my child.

It didn't end when my husband brought back his ex to our house and made it publicly known that he wanted to divorce me. It all ended when he refused to save our daughter who was dying. When I asked him for the divorce papers, he thought that it was just a joke and expected me to be at his door pleading after a few days, but the news spread fast about my new romance with a wealthy surgeon. He realized that he wasn't ready to lose me and that he's made a big mistake by trusting his ex, but it was too late! FILLED WITH REGRET AND PAIN, HER EX-HUSBAND SOUGHT FOR A WAY TO RUIN HER NEW RELATIONSHIP AND WIN HER BACK, WOULD SHE GIVE HIM A SECOND CHANCE IF HE SUCCEEDS?

I had a fever, so I boiled myself an egg. I didn’t expect my son to come home and call the police. “There’s a thief in our house,” he told them, dead serious. “She stole one of my eggs.” The officers thought it was a joke. Evan didn’t. “Ms. Blake gave me those eggs. They’re imported. She stole from me, so she should be arrested.” Then he looked at me like I was a stranger. “Mom’s just lazy. She’s pretending to be sick. No wonder Dad likes spending time with Ms. Blake.” I bit down hard to keep from crying. It didn’t help. To him, my silence was proof I was guilty. “Ms. Blake said people who do bad things always act pitiful,” he added coldly. When my husband got home, he didn’t even ask how I was. “You sit around all day and still say you’re sick? Sounds like you just have too much time to be dramatic. If you were half as thoughtful as Sophie, I wouldn’t be this exhausted.” I almost laughed. When I had a 102-degree fever, he said the clinic was too expensive. But when his secretary mentioned her villa felt a little cold, he signed a thirty-million-dollar contract without hesitation. He was never stingy. Just never with me. That was the moment I stopped caring. That night, I stared at the message my father had sent me. And made a decision. Tomorrow, I was going home, not as his wife, not as anyone’s mother, but as the heiress I had always been.

My billionaire husband suffered from chronic insomnia for years. Only the sleep balm I made could help him sleep. On the night of our seventh wedding anniversary, his childhood sweetheart poured a basin of scalding water over the old camphor tree in our garden. I wept and tried to save the tree as she apologized, “I didn’t know you used its leaves to make the sleep balm.” My husband gently comforted her and ordered his men to tie me to the tree trunk instead. “What a precious tree. You’ll spend the rest of your days with it!” With my wrist fractured as a result, I filed for divorce immediately. A month later, my husband was unable to sleep late one night. He stood in the garden and stared at the withered camphor tree.