Goodbye Summer 2019

Diane is heartbroken after finding out that her best friend and her husband are having an affair. But that's not all. When she nearly dies in a car accident orchestrated by her former bestie, that claims the life of her unborn child, she realizes just how unsafe she is. She makes the tough decision to disappear and go abroad for a while with the help of Keith, the handsome man who found her at the accident scene and saved her life. The two fall in love in no time, and with his help, Diane heals from the trauma of everything that her ex-husband and ex-bestfriend had done to her. When she returns, she sets about living her best life and getting her revenge on her bestie and her ex-husband, who is still very much attracted to her and wants her back. Will Diane be so consumed by her need for revenge that she fails to see what is right in front of her, which is that she's slowly but surely driving Keith away with her thirst for revenge and her trauma from the past? Will a new enemy, who has suddenly popped out of nowhere, succeed in her malicious plans to destroy Keith and Diane’s budding relationship?

Everything comes crashing down as my eyes widen into his. Both of our breathing labored but his hands not releasing me. “Grace.” He says breathlessly. That name is all it takes to wake me up. ‘Grace’ I’m not Grace. He thinks I’m someone I’m not. I shouldn’t be doing this when he doesn’t even know who he’s with. I scramble off of him and stand in the middle of the room panting. I can see him start to fumble, standing up and walking towards me. I look up at him, my eyes wide. “I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t… We shouldn’t have done that.” I stammer out and he looks at me shocked. Walking towards me like I’m a trapped animal he’s scared is going to run away. “Why, Grace? Why shouldn’t we have done that? Please, just talk to me.” I can hear the pleading in his voice, the fear that I didn’t want him to kiss me, but that’s not it. I don’t know why. Why I’m so scared to just tell them the truth, so I decide to lie. “I’m sorry, Gunner. I like all three of you. I’m not going to choose, so I’ve just decided I wouldn’t be with any of you. It’s not fair to you guys.” I don’t wait for him to respond, I run out the door and down the steps, landing face first in Dean’s chest. He pulls me up and wraps my legs around his waist causing me to gasp. “Who said we’d make you choose, Bambi?” And before I can respond his lips are on mine.

I was trapped in a sea filled with icebergs, clinging to life alongside Elsa —the sweetheart of my mate, Alpha Luke, and her son. After a long hesitation, Luke chose to save me, the one carrying his unborn twins. After he brought me to shore, there wasn’t enough time for him to go back for Elsa. All he could do was watch her drift away, swallowed by the freezing waves, until she disappeared from sight. He never forgave me for it. He said I delayed him—that if not for me, he could have saved her. For five long years, he hated me. He wouldn't even let my twin pups call him “father.” Then came the day the witch brewed a time machine that could turn back time. Luke gave up everything—his title, his pride, even his sons—just for the chance to go back. “Aria,” he said before leaving, “did you really think I saved you because I cared? If I hadn’t saved you first, the whole pack would’ve blamed Elsa. That’s the only reason.” After he was gone, his mother looked at me with eyes full of disdain. “This is all your fault,” she said. “If Luke had saved Elsa first, he might’ve been happy now.” Even my own children resented me. “You're the reason Father hates us,” they said. “You're the one who killed Elsa. Why couldn’t it have been you who died that day?” Despised by everyone, I drank the potion without a second thought. This time, I would go back. This time, I would save myself. And I would owe Luke nothing.

Victor Gunner, my husband, is a man of his prime - wealthy, attractive and the brilliant CEO of Gunner Holdings, Inc. with stakes in the aviation and maritime industries. People often question why he married me because it was certainly not a love match nor was it a union of convenience. I believe it was because Victor felt ready and I was available. When I accepted his proposal, I naively thought my love was big enough for the two of us until he proved me wrong. Three years and our marriage began to crumble. For one, I can’t give him an heir. Then came Victor’s past love with a child in tow. A child who looks strangely like my husband. For the first time in years, I saw excitement filling Victor’s eyes. He dotes on them, recreating the dream of a perfect family, while I was gradually being cast aside, relegated to watching them enviously on the sidelines. I tried fighting for my place, but how can one fight a battle lost before it has begun? I had no place in his perfect family so when he proposed divorce, I accepted and never looked back. When we met again, I was an emerging heiress divorcee of our time, given countless accolades due to my work with women who underwent trauma in their relationships. It gave me immense satisfaction that for the first time, Victor saw my worth and wanted me back. Unfortunately, he has to fall in line. Three other men want me, too. All are wealthy, attractive and doting not only to me, but to my triplets as well. I watched in amusement how our roles quickly reversed. Now, Victor scrambled to beat all those men. But can he win this fight? Can love bloom beyond goodbye?

During a game of truth or dare, my boyfriend, Ryan Patel, chose to kiss his childhood friend, Michelle Woods, for three minutes to save her from a penalty. When I found out, I was furious. I called him in tears, confronting him about the unbearable intimacy between them. He remained silent for a long time before speaking coldly, "Are you done crying?" Then, he drove Michelle home. I crouched in the rain, watching couples huddle under umbrellas, and from that moment on, I never contacted Ryan again. Three months later, at an auction, I bought a men's wristwatch. When Ryan heard about it, he chuckled. "Forget it. In three days, I'll go and coax her back myself. She just needs a way out." His friends all sent me messages, congratulating me on how well I had him wrapped around my finger. I didn’t reply to any of them. I simply posted a picture in my feed—my newly issued marriage certificate.

My wife is a pilot. We had our wedding three years ago, but she's stood me up 18 times since then when we agreed to register our marriage. The first time she stood me up was when her apprentice took his first flight. I waited outside city hall the whole day for her. The second time she stood me up was when she turned around after receiving a call from her apprentice. She left me by the roadside. Later, whenever we set a date to register our marriage, her apprentice would run into all sorts of trouble. Finally, I decided to leave her. But after I board a flight to Avalonia, she chases me all the way there like she's lost her mind.

My husband had a severe addiction for physical intimacy. However, in the seven years of our marriage, he never touched me, not even once. To suppress his urges, he soaked himself in bone-chilling ice water every night. His arms were covered in needle marks from constant injections. It broke my heart to see him like that. I offered myself to him many times, but he insisted on simply giving me a restrained kiss on the forehead before saying, “Don’t be silly, Summer. I’m not like those animals. How could I ever bear to hurt you? For you, I’d gladly live the rest of my life in a platonic marriage.” This strange, almost obsessive restraint of his lasted seven years. Despite the numerous times he pushed himself far enough to end up hospitalized, he still refused to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a young woman named Anna Brandt came in for her ninth hymen restoration surgery. After the anesthetic was administered, her cheeks flushed red. As her mind grew hazy, she started crying weakly like a lost kitten. Looking at the love bites scattered across her body, I shook my head and assumed she was just another girl who had gone astray. That was until I heard her last tearful whisper. “John Shaw, you jerk.” My hand trembled and I nearly dropped the scalpel. Because my husband’s name also was John Shaw.

On our wedding day, Carter Hall's father took his own life in our new home. He left a suicide note, blaming me for his death. From that day forward, Carter despised me to the core. He said, "Lindsey Thomson, you deserve to rot in hell, atoning for your sins for the rest of your life." Eventually, just as he wished, I wandered the streets, mute and half-insane, living a life worse than a stray dog. But then, he regretted it.

I've loved Jonathan Pickle for half my life. I used my family's resources to help him attain success. However, in the third year of our marriage, he brought his mistress home to stomp all over my pride. That wasn't the worst of it—he even destroyed my family. … I open my eyes to see Jonathan in his university days. Unexpectedly, I'm not the only person who's been given a second chance at life.

Maynard Hansen planned a luxury birthday cruise for Darlene Thompson, but the cruise ship capsized when a violent storm swept in without warning. Without hesitation, Maynard gave the last seat on the lifeboat to Darlene. As I struggled in the water, my son, Waldo Hansen—whom I carried for nine months and gave birth to—cried out, "Don't let Mom up! She'll push Ms. Thompson off." Clutching nothing but a broken plank, I somehow made it to shore. By the time I collapsed on the sand, I was frozen, exhausted, and done. I had never felt so alone. Shortly after, I found myself clutching a diagnosis of severe depression in my hand. I was ready to bring this wretched life to a quiet end. But when my husband and son realized I truly didn't want to live anymore, they collapsed into tears. They wrapped their arms around me as they sobbed, "Please don't leave us. We really can't live without you."