Funny Side-eye

Kendra is a party girl living her life to the fullest. When she is kidnapped by a sexy werewolf she is pulled into a DDLG relationship. Kendra tries hard to cope with her new circumstances, but the Alpha of the Blue Moon Pack has it out for her.

Five years after marrying Blake Sullivan, I make a dumb move. I chase his favorite lover out of the country in hopes that he'll come back to me. He doesn't say anything after finding out. Instead, he makes my family go bankrupt and forces my father to his knees before him. My mother's hair goes gray overnight. Now, he stands before me. It's my turn to suffer his wrath. "It's my fault for treating you too well, Karen. It made you cross the line. It's time for you to experience what hell on earth is like."

Tammy, who my husband Steven used to mentor, was in the car crash with me. My liver had ruptured. I was drenched in blood. Steven didn't even flinch. He yanked Tammy out first, and she only had a scratch on her forehead. While I was unconscious, barely hanging on, he was freaking out about her getting a scar. When I came to, completely done, I chucked the divorce papers at his face. He went feral—ripped them up and said I'd only leave him over his dead body. I used to hate when he pulled that line. But now? If that's what it takes, so be it.

My mother-in-law and I were traveling together. We'd just checked into the Solenne Hotel in Rivera City and decided to hit the pool. Then this woman—dressed like money and attitude—pinched her nose like we stank. "This is a luxury hotel. How did you people even get in? Sneak in just for the pool? Ugh, I need a test after this." Buzzkill. I snapped, "It's a hotel pool. Guests swim. If that's a problem, go build your own." Her face twisted. "Excuse me? Do you even know who I am? My husband owns this place. We always stay in the top suite. So get out. You reek of broke. You're contaminating the water." Georgina and I traded a look. Ice cold. This was her son's hotel. My husband's. Since when did he come with a second wife?

Penelope Rivera's little boy toy, Theodore Schneider, is throwing another tantrum. She slides the divorce papers across the table toward me. "Just sign them for show. It's to keep Teddy happy." I clench the cuff of my suit and nod in silence. I sign my name in one swift stroke. As I'm walking out, I hear one of her girlfriends teasing, "Samuel's way too easygoing. Does he actually do everything you say?" Penelope takes a graceful sip of red wine and smirks. "Wanna bet?" They bet that I will quietly go through with the divorce at the courthouse, even if my eyes are red with tears. Listening their laughter, I rub my thumb over my phone screen and reply to the message I've just received. "Will you marry me?" it says. "I will."

The day my father dies, my boyfriend, Heath Summers, is accompanying his true love for her prenatal checkup. I lose hope in him and ask for a breakup, but he thinks I'm just being jealous. He says, "Naomi's already miscarried thrice—it hasn't been easy for her to conceive this child. Stop being unreasonable." I've been with him for seven years, but it turns out I can't compare to his childhood sweetheart.

I was pregnant. On my way to deliver documents to Tristan Goldberg, a flash flood struck. Desperate, I dialed his number, praying he’d answer. After a few rings, the call connected. But instead of Tristan, a woman’s voice answered. "Tristan, whose number is this? Do you want to answer it?" There was a brief pause, and then Tristan’s voice, cold and indifferent, cut through. "It’s just my maid. Ignore it. Hang up." And just like that, the call disconnected. Staring at the torrent rising around me, my pulse quickened. I texted him, begging for him to send a rescue team. Minutes passed as the waters climbed to my waist, churning and relentless. Then, a message from Tristan finally appeared. Tristan: [What kind of ridiculous story are you making up now?] Tristan: [Emily, do you think you're eighteen, playing these childish games? I want that document in my hands within thirty minutes, or we're getting divorced.] A surge of terror shot through me as I looked up, catching sight of a heavy branch snapping loose and crashing down. In an instant, everything went dark.

She blinded the ruthless Alpha King. He vowed to hunt her forever. Violet never believed in fate, until she discovers she is the destined mate of Merrin, the one-eyed Alpha King and the first wolf in centuries to have a true mate. Her nightmare begins when he buys her from the strip club where she works. It deepens when he claims her again, this time as his wife. Now Violet is his fourth Luna, bound by law, trapped by power, and chained by a bond she never wanted. She is his wife. His prisoner. His curse-breaker. When secrets surface and a child enters their lives, Violet is branded a traitor. A kingdom burns. And the mate she once feared becomes the man who orders her execution. With death closing in, Violet must choose: Run from the bond destroying her. Or face the Alpha destined to love her… or kill her. Trigger Warning: Mature themes and intense power dynamics. 18+

Not all coins have just two faces . . . Finian Relish is the casual kind of child who thinks having two sisters and a brother is the bane of his existence. His life changes when he finds a mysterious silver coin on a lone walk home. And when it presumably saves him from the clutches of his usual bullies in school, he starts to suspect the coin is not as ordinary as he thought. But then people close to him start to get hurt and the coin starts to show a third sinister face that follows him into his dreams to haunt him and he finds out not all coins have just two faces . . . The coin keeps reappearing stronger and more powerful in their lives after several failed attempts to dispose of it. Finian realizes having much siblings is an advantage as he must work with his sister and brother to figure out a way to get rid of the diabolic coin for good before it kills them all and spreads it's evil all over.

I was a top-tier heart surgeon. The kind they gave a government-issued black SUV with diplomatic plates—armored, red-light-skipping, cleared-for-anything kind of ride. I parked it at my fiancé Marco Varonetti's place so he could keep it in shape. Bad call. One day, I got an emergency call: heart transplant for the Chancellor—yeah, that Chancellor, the one with state secrets ticking inside him. I rushed over to Marco's to grab the car. Right as I was about to leave, some rando slid into the back seat like she owned it. "Mall first. I need a mani," she barked. "Then get the ice cream Marco ordered. If it melts, I'll kill you." Excuse me? "This is my car," I said, trying to stay chill. "I've got a critical airport run. You need to get out." She rolled her eyes. "You're just the driver. Open those eyes and check the plate." Then the maid chimed in. "Everyone knows Mr. Varonetti takes Ms. Caro out in this car. Nobody says a word." I froze. Marco used my federally issued SUV... to chauffeur her? This wasn't just messy. This was criminal.