Game Over? Não Para Mim

I was his one weakness. Don Alex, the king of New York. And I was his queen. But days before our child was due, I was thrown into the Dockside Deathmatch—a cruel game broadcast for the underground world’s entertainment. The bullets flew, hidden traps lay in wait, and my every terrified, pathetic attempt to survive was broadcast live on giant screens. Then, I heard his second-in-command on the loudspeaker. "Boss, your wife's about to pop. You sure you wanna be here?" I froze. Alex was here? A moment later, a woman’s sugary voice dripped through the speakers. "Forget that bitch. Alex told me the only thing that mattered today was being here with me. Right, honey?" It was Scarlett. The Chicago Outfit's princess. Alex's childhood sweetheart from Chicago, a woman he had always pampered and shown a distinct bias towards. He had turned down her advances for years, but he never refused her whims. Today, she was in a bad mood and insisted on watching the deathmatch, so he was here to keep her company. I screamed for Alex, begged him for help, but he was convinced I was an assassin in disguise. Because Scarlett laughed and said the game needed to be more exciting. So he pressed the button. Vicious patrol dogs hunted me. My water broke, mixing with blood on the ground. I was in agony. The game hit its climax as more dogs and gunmen closed in from all sides. Everyone was betting on who would be the next to die. Alex smiled, his voice a low, careless drawl, "I’ll bet on that filthy pregnant woman to die." He didn't know the truth until I bled out on an operating table, our child dead with me. They say the ruthless Godfather shattered. Broke completely.

"I love you, I really really do~ please marry me" I closed my eyes in fear as I kneeled in front of the devil itself who had his hands warped around the female lead. The next thing I knew I stood in the wedding hall wearing the white suit while in front of the Villain itself putting the ring on my finger. "Now I declare you as husband and hu-husband? you may kill your husband" It was supposed to be a straight Otome game where I was supposed to be dead while saving the FL. But here and I married to the villain itself. "WHEN DID IT TURN INTO BL?" I don't own the cover as I just did the editing of the art and credit goes to its owner

I was diagnosed with late stage the Hollowing—Wolf Soul Degeneration. According to the Compatible Soul Restructuring Program, I could survive by receiving a soul transplant. If no match were found, I would be brain-dead in three months. After more than two months of waiting, the soul that matched me best was given away by my mate to my sister. The therapist recommended that I keep waiting for a new match, but I refused. I signed a treatment waiver and left Central Medical Center early. All the wealth and resources I had spent years saving—I gave every last bit to my sister, Lisa. For the first time, during the full moon family dinner, my parents smiled at me. My mate moved into Lisa’s room to take care of her. I did not get angry. I even made him breakfast. Even when my little pup asked if she could be his mom, I nodded and said yes. I gave them everything they wanted. So why are they regretting it now? …

Victor Santos ingeriu acidentalmente um novo tipo de alucinógeno e seu estado era crítico. Como médica da família, fui forçada a me tornar o antídoto. Por ser naturalmente fértil, engravidei de primeira. Depois de me casar com ele, dei à luz a dois gêmeos, um menino e uma menina, ambos inteligentes e adoráveis. Mas, após o casamento, Victor não permitia que as crianças o chamassem de pai, e passava os dias abraçado à foto de sua amada falecida, afogando-se em bebidas. No décimo ano de casamento, ele ateou fogo em mim e nas crianças, e nos queimou vivos no porão. Afinal, durante todos esses anos, Victor guardava ressentimento por eu tê-lo "salvado". Ele sempre acreditou que me aproveitei da sua vulnerabilidade para me aproximar e subir na vida, o que acabou destruindo o relacionamento dele com a mulher que amava. Ela, abalada, sofreu um acidente de carro e morreu. Ao abrir os olhos novamente, descobri que voltei para o dia em que ele ingeriu acidentalmente o alucinógeno. Desta vez, deixei a sua amada ter a chance de salvá-lo, e eu me dirigi ao escritório...

He was a Kung Fu head trainer, who was framed by his two trainees in a rape and murder case of Clushia, a female trainee, who was obsessed with him. He was convicted and brought to the maximum penal institution called the 'Hellhole', for no prisoner got out of it alive. In one of the prisoners’ riots, he was forced to fight to defend himself but ended up killing another prisoner. He was put to an oubliette. Unknown to him, that oubliette is the door to an underground city, with an arena for the so-called “Game of Fangs and Death” by the Alpha Pharoah. The game is for five nights. If he wins, he will be given a free pass leading to a secret passage, away from the 'Hellhole'. Could there be an escape for him from the 'Hellhole'? Could his heart find an escape from the Alpha Pharoah's daughter, who has a lot of similarities to Clushia? It was like, Clushia had been born again through her. Would suddenly his never known powerful blood and lineage eventually help him escape from his death?

Colter Giordano, my fiancé of six years, heir to the Giordano family, took a bullet for a dancer named Mia. He didn't take one for me. A bullet tore through my shoulder. Blood bloomed across my dress, hot and sticky. But my heart hurt worse. He asked if I was okay. Just once. Then he rushed Mia to the hospital, leaving me bleeding on the floor. The next day, Mia's picture popped up on my Instagram feed. There she was, in a luxury hospital suite. Colter was fussing over a scratch on her arm that was barely there. The caption was just two words: "My Hero." I liked the post. Then I made an encrypted call. "The Falcone family's offer," I said. "I'm taking it. Get me on a plane to Sicily. Three days."

THIS IS A DARK ROMANCE FEATURING DARK CONTENT AND MORALLY AMBIGUOUS CHARACTERS. Peyton has been in her marriage, enduring the pain of watching Odin, her husband, flirt and cheat in the guise of an open marriage—a decision he made without her agreement. She hit a dead end when Odin broke the number one rule: bringing one of his flings to their home, their bed. That's when she made an impulsive decision—cheat and not feel guilty. He wants her to get a boyfriend? No, she'd do him one better. One night, that's all it took, and the next day she finds herself tangled with her husband's brother. Axel—He's a live wire, pure mischief and untamed. He doesn't just give Peyton what she's been starved of; he ignites a fire she didn't know she had, making her crave the wild freedom only he offers. With Axel, it's not just a fling; it's an explosion of everything forbidden. Raphael—A little unhinged? More like a master of controlled chaos. He's the kind of man who sears himself into your soul, leaving an unforgettable mark deep in your memories. Raphael doesn't just flip a switch in your brain; he rewires it entirely, making you question every sane choice you've ever made. Ready to dive deeper into Peyton's dangerous game?

The Horror Game invaded the world. Real players entered the game, and their every move would be broadcast live. My adopted son shoved me—an eighty-eight-year-old woman—straight into a deadly dungeon to save his own skin. One of the comments in the live stream predicted: [What? They’re tossing in such an elderly woman? No way she’s gonna survive the first night!] On the first night, a frost-bitten ghost exhaled icy breath in my face. I shrugged off my thick floral coat, feeling sorry for her. “You poor thing! You must be freezing. Listen to me and bundle up quickly!” The second night, a starving ghost lunged at me with blood dripping down his chin. I sniffed the air, then found a jar of pickled cabbage. “Look at how skinny you are! Come on, let me get you something hot to eat.” On the final day, the last surviving players tied me up, desperate to steal the one ticket to escape. However, before they could touch me, every ghost in the dungeon came storming out, cleavers and rolling pins in hand. “Touch her, and you’re dead meat!”

She was the daughter of a monster. He was the brother of a ghost. And their love was never supposed to exist. Sama Arthur has spent her entire life locked away in a golden cage—an Omega born to a cruel kingpin who saw her as a pawn, not a person. The only man who ever showed her kindness died for it. So she ran. She bled. She disappeared. Now she lives under a stolen name, with trembling hands and nightmares she hides behind lipstick and laughter. But monsters have long memories. And so does Dean Wason. Dean is an Alpha forged in blood, trained to kill, and fueled by one thing—revenge. His younger brother was executed with a bullet to the head. The killer walked free. Now Dean wants to break him—but not with bullets. With heartbreak. With suffering. With the thing his enemy loves most. So he hunts Sama. He stalks her. Finds her. But when he finally sees the terrified woman dancing under neon lights, he doesn’t see a target. He sees something twisted and broken. Something like him. And that changes everything. She’s supposed to die. He’s supposed to walk away. But obsession is a wildfire—and neither of them is safe. What starts as a trap turns into a war of dominance and surrender, secrets and scars. Dean wants to hate her. Sama wants to survive him. But desire is betrayal. And love? Love is lethal. When lies unravel and the truth cuts deep, Sama learns that Dean isn’t just the man who could destroy her—he’s the only one who ever truly saw her. And Dean? He realizes that the woman who ruined his mission is the only one who ever understood his pain.

Morí el día de mi cumpleaños, pero ni mis papás ni mi esposo se dieron cuenta. Todos estaban de lleno en los preparativos de la fiesta de cumpleaños de mi hermana gemela, Alicia Gonzáles. Mientras todos la rodeaban para escoger su vestido de gala, a mí me habían amarrado de pies y manos y me habían arrojado al sótano. Con las últimas fuerzas que me quedaban y con los dedos ya torcidos, logré marcar el 9395, la señal que Sergio Sandarti y yo habíamos acordado para pedir ayuda en caso de peligro. Nunca imaginé que llegaría el día de tener que usarla de verdad. Pero Sergio no me creyó. Respondió con frialdad: “¿De verdad haces tanto drama nada más porque no te llevamos a comprar un vestido nuevo? El del año pasado todavía te queda bien. Nos vemos más tarde en la fiesta, deja de hacer escándalo”. Él no sabía que mi vestido ya lo había destrozado Alicia. Tampoco sabía que, en cuanto colgué la llamada, yo ya estaba muerta. Así que no asistí a la fiesta de cumpleaños. Pero cuando todos vieron el regalo que yo había preparado con anticipación para Alicia, se volvieron locos.