Guerrero Family

Ella Sandoval is a heartless cold killer. Lumaki sya sa mundong walang kaawaan dapat ang mapang-lamang! Dapat parusahan ng kamatayan ang may sala! and that's her oath. In return, she will give you your karma! Not until she meets Silverio Guerrero the Mayor of her own beloved town who adores helping his people. But one day the good mayor witnessed her doings and ended up not just saving her but drowned loving her. Will he be able to save her after knowing what she's up to?

Tragedy can strike anywhere and at any moment, to anyone. In a moment life can change. It can leave you so drastically altered as to leave you with permanent scars. Meet Jaxsen Michaels and Sebastian Green. A parentless child and a fatherless son each get a chance to have the family that was lost to them both. This is book one of three.

War is the hardest hours to fall in love in any humans life. Sora is a Japanese immigrant who falls in love with a foreigner, Jon. He leaves his country home but his love life is cut short when Jon dies serving his country and worst, Sora is pregnant.Sora has given up all hope to find love so he focuses on his family which includes his mother-in-law and his son.He has yet another package coming when a man of the hour, pops into his life and changes his way of living.Will Sora get the happiness he deserves or will fate keep playing games with him?

I sacrificed my legs to marry my cousin’s boyfriend, but they replaced me with a different bride on the wedding day!

My sister aims her camera at my face as she livestreams. She forces me to get on my knees before her as everyone in her class watches. Then, she tells me to lick her shoe clean. My parents know about her behavior but don't care how it affects me. Their indulgence only makes my sister's behavior worse. This is precisely what I want, though. If one wants to ruin someone, the first step is to turn her into a psycho!

I was raised by my mother, a single parent who never revealed the identity of my father. For years, that part of my life remained a mystery until her final moments. With her last breath, she asked me to find him. I shared this with my best friend, who had never known her own parents. With tears in her eyes, she confided in me that she longed for a father, too. She tried to manipulate me, suggesting I work as a housekeeper for my father so she could claim him as her own. Soft-hearted, I agreed to the plan. When I finally met him, he was stunned. The resemblance between me and his first love was undeniable. He wanted to take me under his wing as his mistress. "Come to my room tonight and wear something… revealing," he said. To protect myself, I laid all my cards on the table.

After the real son, Asher Vale, was brought back, everything in our house became tied to drawing lots. The chef of the day, who would have to cook a particular person's preferred dishes, had to be decided by drawing lots. Even our parents' kisses and hugs were chosen the same way. I always drew the short stick. The long stick, by default, belonged to Asher. He never had to do anything to receive our parents' love. Whenever I felt it was unfair and wanted to cry, Mom would scold me sharply, "I bought the lot-drawing box because I was afraid you'd feel hurt. I wanted to be fair to both of you. If you want something, decide it yourselves. Your father and I won't interfere. If you can't draw the long stick, you can only blame your bad luck." So I began practicing every day, shaking the box diligently, over and over, in hopes that one day, it would help me earn my parents' love. Unfortunately, for ten years, I never once drew the long stick. Until my birthday. Asher wanted to go to the amusement park, and Mom once again told us to decide by drawing lots. I secretly glued the two short sticks together and handed them to Mom, hoping to keep her with me. She slapped me hard across the face, screaming that I was cheating and disobedient. Then she stormed out of the house with Asher. When I fell to the ground, the short stick stabbed deep into my neck. 'I'm sorry, Mom. Next time, I'll work harder. Next time, I'll definitely draw the long stick.'

My brother hated me and wanted me dead.I cried and asked him, "Am I your sister or what?""I don't have a sister," he scoffed.That night, a car suddenly hit me and killed me.He went insane.

My wife, a doctor, treated our daughter like a walking blood bank. When our daughter passed away, she took it even further. She transplanted her corneas into her old flame’s son. Before our daughter’s body was even cold, she was out having dinner with her ex and his son. They were celebrating that the boy could see again. She even went so far as to secretly burn our daughter’s body to get rid of any evidence. By the time I got there, all I saw was my daughter's ashes being swallowed up by the flames. I told her I wanted a divorce. She just sneered, “It’s only a daughter. Are you really going to divorce me over this?” But later, she was down on her knees, begging me not to leave her.

My sister, Laura Ward, died the year we were ten, the year we snuck out of school to play. From that day forward, my mother’s grief turned into a burning hatred for me, convinced that I was the reason my sister was gone. She treated me like a servant, like an unwanted burden, and filled the void by adopting a perfect, obedient daughter to replace my sister. She took everything from me without a second thought — my rights, my freedom, my very existence — and even demanded that I give up a kidney for her precious adopted girl. Alright, Mother, if you want a life, I’ll give you mine! But it was only when my body lay cold, my breath long gone, that she finally turned and looked at me.