Good Samurai Novels

I dropped my car off for maintenance at the service center. When it was finished, I told the staff to put it on the tab of my cousin, who ran the shop. The staff member nodded and started to process it, but then the female manager stepped in. "We don't do tabs here. You've got to pay up now," she said, slapping the bill down right in front of me. Premium Diagnostic Scan: $80,000 Exhaust System Sound Enhancement: $100,000 Engine Harmony Calibration: $100,000 Total: $280,000. I laughed at the absurdity. Since when did my cousin start running a rip-off operation? The manager crossed her arms and gave me a snooty once-over. "Always trying to mooch off Chad. I've seen plenty of broke relatives like you. If you can't swing it, don't act like you can." Unwilling to argue with her, I pulled out my phone and called my cousin. "You have ten minutes to fire the manager, or your shop is finished."

After I brought in 300 million dollars in investment for his company, my fiance showed me the home we would share. I thought we would finally get married after eight years together, but instead, he turned on a building game. “I laid every brick here. Once the company is listed, I’ll build you a house just like this one.” I found him and his secretary showing off their love. He had bought her an expensive villa as a gift. I sent the photo to my fiance. “You can afford to buy someone a villa as a gift, but not our home?” Displeased, he said, “Alyssa is the company’s backbone. I’m only giving her a villa to encourage the other staff to do better!” But in the background, I heard Alyssa’s pleased laughter. “Some people should really be more self-aware. Does she think getting some investment makes her the boss of this company?” I did my best to suppress my anger. I wanted to see just how long the company would survive if not for the investments I found!

The new project was short on staff. Over everyone's objections, I pulled three former colleagues out of an overlooked department where they'd been warming the bench for years. The four of us became the project's core team. The bonus was generous, the workload light. They all said I was their lucky charm. Three months later, with delivery just around the corner, I passed the break room and overheard them talking. "The biggest credit for this project belongs to the three of us. Why should Chloe get an equal share of the bonus just because she recommended us? She barely did any real work." "Exactly. Let's talk to the director. We'll say all the core work was done by us, that she's not up to the task. We'll apply to have her removed from the contributors list." "Just thinking about not having to split those tens of thousands with her—it feels amazing." I pushed the door open. They stared at me, stunned. I smiled. They wanted to kick me out? Too bad. I was the director who parachuted in to evaluate them.

I'm severely allergic to many things, so my husband buys a separate villa for me. It's supposed to be sort of a nursing home. When my future daughter-in-law learns about this, she thinks my son is cheating on her. She breaks my bones to vent her anger. When she finds out I'm her future mother-in-law, she caresses her belly and looks at me smugly. "I'm already pregnant with Shawn's child. Think about whether you want this child to make it into this world." What she doesn't know is that the Ziegler family's fortune belongs to me and that Shawn Ziegler is only my adoptive son.

On my 50th wedding anniversary, I took my worn, crumbling marriage certificate to City Hall to renew it. The clerk glanced at it—and froze. “This certificate is fake. Our records show you’ve never been married.” I stared. “Impossible. I’ve been married to Damien Slater for fifty years.” The clerk pulled up his file. “Well…Yes, Mr. Slater is married—but his wife’s name is Vanessa Grant.” Vanessa. His widowed sister-in-law. A military doctor who’d spent decades living among the troops. My hands shook as I returned home and confronted Damien. He didn’t even try to deny it. “I’ve treated you well all these years. Isn’t that enough? Vanessa is my true love. I only ever wanted her—our children, our life.” My son counseled me and said, “To spare your feelings, my parents kept it a secret their whole lives. You’re getting old now. What more do you want?” Only then did I learn the truth. The child I had raised with my own hands was never mine by blood. Decades ago, Vanessa and I gave birth on the same day. To ensure her child would grow up with intellect, privilege, and a future that I could provide, Damien switched our children. My own son? Damien drowned him in the pond the moment he drew breath. And I—fool that I was—raised Vanessa’s boy as my own. I even got him all the way to Claremont University. The truth broke me, and I collapsed. When I opened my eyes again—I was back. Back to the day I went into labor.

On my sweet sixteen, my three brothers came home with a girl named Sylvie. They said I have to treat her like my family. I didn’t think much would change. But years later, everything did. Jace, my youngest brother, shoved me down the stairs for her. Asher—the oldest, who once promised he'd protect me forever—told me to get out. So I left. Quietly. They thought I was just acting out. So they took Sylvie to France, didn't even bothering to check in What they didn’t know was that I’d signed my name on a contract—one that aligned me with our family’s biggest rival by becoming their youngest chemist. Written in black and white, I could never go home again. The night they found out I was really gone for good? They broke. Every last one of them.

After my mate, Drew Bruce, vanished from the pack warzone, I cared for his gravely ill parents in his stead for three years. In the end, he returns with his wolf missing and a young she-wolf by his side. He begs for the Alpha King to break our mate bond. Drew taunts me, "Jenny Watson, your peaceful life in the pack is thanks to my bloodshed on the battlefield. You'll never be someone like Sherry Lowe, an outstanding physiotherapist, who can fight alongside me. "It's a good thing our mind link has disappeared ever since I lost my wolf. Being with Sherry made me realize how dull you are. "You're useless. If it weren't for the Moon Goddess' guidance, you would've never been worthy of being my mate." When his parents find out, instead of talking him out of it, they fully support his decision. They completely disregard the dedication and sincerity I showed them over three years. Heartbroken, I turn and leave for the field hospital. He has no idea that I come from a long line of healers. When I earn the title of chief field healer with nothing but my own skill, he goes mad with regret.

Before the contract was even signed, the client's representative casually said he was craving pancakes with maple syrup. I didn't hesitate. I texted my fiancé, Nigel Cross, and asked him to stand in line and grab some. He came back with the box, all proud of himself. The client took one bite, and within seconds, his face went red. Hives bloomed across his neck. He shot to his feet, furious, and called the whole deal off on the spot. Then he turned around and handed the million-dollar order to Olivia Field, the intern who had rushed to grab him allergy meds. Three months of grinding work were gone just like that. I stood there, my throat tight, trying not to fall apart. Nigel squeezed my shoulder, his voice soft as he said, "It was just bad luck. Don't beat yourself up." I nodded weakly, drained of energy. But the second I stepped away, I heard him laughing in the break room with his friend. "That guy's seriously allergic to mango. Good thing I added mango syrup to the pancakes. Olivia's about to score a huge year-end bonus. Enough for a down payment on her new apartment." His friend hesitated. "Melissa hasn't slept in a month over that deal. She was working while she was sick. She needed that money for her mom's surgery—" Nigel waved him off, already annoyed. "She has me. Isn't that enough? Olivia earned this." My hands curled into fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. Bad luck? Yeah, right. Nigel had planned every second of it. And now, he thought he could smooth it over by marrying me someday, toss me a few cheap words, and I would just swallow it. I was done with that disgusting man.

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

My mother said I was a born beauty and was able to charm any man. She told me not to touch a man before my twentieth birthday. In the previous timeline, I listened to her, so when a wealthy heir was dosed with an aphrodisiac, I pushed him away when he tried to take me into his embrace. But the effects of the skincare routine I did transferred to my mother after my twentieth birthday. I used face masks, but my face became wrinkled and spotted. Meanwhile, my mother glowed with smooth and youthful skin. I danced, but I only became fatter while my mother became slim. Seeing how I looked like a fifty-year-old woman, my father called me a useless piece of trash and wanted to marry me off to a bald man as his second wife. I cried and begged my mother for help. But she said this was for my own good, her twenty-something face a mask of hypocrisy. I was forced to run away from home, but doing so only sped up my aging. Three days later, I died on the streets right by a trash heap. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in time to the night I met that rich heir. This time, I did not push him away but straddled him in bed.