He Kisses My Forehead Novels & Stories

"Let's get a divorce." Renna had said to her treacherous husband, Hayes Campbell, walking in on him with not one of his numerous mistresses that she knew of, but her sister, this time. Renna thought divorcing him would be the end of her misery but what about her father? The vicious man who she grew up to him finding fault in everything she did, she was his prodigal daughter while Nadia, her sister, was his favorite, despite how frequently she strayed. He disowned her right after the divorce and pushed her into the street. Divorced, disowned, and critically ill, Renna passed out on the street of New York. Renna thought she was dead until she opened her eyes in a hospital, and her ex-husband's uncle beside her. "Marry me." He'd said to her so naturally. "What?" "I will offer you a life every single lady on earth will be jealous of, kitten, the world will be at your feet, including your ex-husband, all you have to do is say yes." His name is Landon; Hayes's uncle and biggest threat. No one knew the mystery behind his hatred for Hayes, but he was known for taking everything Hayes ever wanted or has, and now, he's come for her, but not just as a game.

For four years, I worked three jobs to support my husband, Edward Godfrey, while he chased his PhD and battled ALS. And somehow, in all that time, I'd never stepped foot on his campus. Not because I didn't want to. Every time I brought it up, he had some excuse ready. When graduation came, I asked to go to his hooding ceremony. He shut it down fast. "It's just a formality. A bunch of lab nerds. You'd be bored. Once I bring the diploma home, we'll have a candlelight dinner." I didn't argue. Just helped him straighten his doctoral gown. But I couldn't hide how excited I was. So I dressed up. And secretly followed him. Onstage, Edward stood beside his wheelchair, voice thick with emotion. "I want to thank my wife. She stood with me in the lab, even while pregnant, helping me grind out countless precious data points." I froze. My hand pressed against my flat stomach. Cold crept down my spine. For four years, I'd busted myself raw to support his PhD. I went from the girl everyone on campus admired to a fish seller, reeking like seafood every day. Worked so hard I miscarried twice. So who exactly was this "wife" he was thanking?

When my parents call to tell me they are taking me to my childhood friend, Oliver Holland's house to meet his blind date, he is still asleep beside me. I think they are joking and whisper, "Oliver, they said they've found you someone to date." He gives a lazy hum and pulls me into his arms. "Gerry, help me pick out something to wear later. And fix my hair, too." When I freeze, Oliver opens his eyes and lets out a short, mocking laugh. "What's wrong with you? We're just sleeping together. You don't actually think I'm going to marry you, do you?"

My boyfriend, Jacob Torrance, claimed he hated being touched. Five years together, and all I got were stiff hand-holds and the rare side-hug. Even in bed, he kept his distance. I figured he was just emotionally shut off. Then he dropped this: he wanted a kid—with his mentor's daughter. "Take it as a sperm donation," he said. "Dr. Lynn asked me before he died. Wendy's got no one else." I smiled. "You don't have to explain. I support you." When you're over someone, there's no point fighting about what's right or wrong.

Three years into my arranged marriage with the Valachi family heir, the one that got away came back. He left me for Julia eight times. The ninth time, he left me bleeding on the side of the road with a gunshot wound to go running to Julia, who’d called him because she felt a little dizzy. "She needs me. You get that, right, Leona?" This time, I didn't fight for him. He didn't know about the bet I’d made with Julia. The ninth time he abandoned me, I would be the one to leave for good. So on his birthday, I left a set of signed divorce papers on his desk and got on a plane.

Kourtney was out of options. To save herself and get her inheritance, she did something crazy—she kidnapped Travis Forger. Now, she stood in front of him, holding a marriage contract, her last hope. “If you marry me, I can get my inheritance. After that, we’ll let you go,” she told him, her voice shaking. But Travis didn’t panic. He stayed calm. “And what do I get from this?” he said. “I already have a fiancée. I love her." Those words broke Kourtney’s heart. She already knew about Kim, but hearing him say it hurt more than she expected. “You’re my hostage!” she snapped. “You have to do what I say!” Travis looked at her, no anger—just disappointment. “This isn’t love, Kourtney. This is just fear.” Her hands dropped to her sides. She felt small, helpless, and humiliated. But deep inside, something darker began to grow. As she turned away, her eyes filled with tears, and one dangerous thought crossed her mind: If Travis won’t marry her by choice… Then maybe he won’t have a choice at all.

"You need me." He told me. My eyes narrowed slightly at the way he was so sure. "I don't," I said. He arched a brow. "Jenny, you need me as much as I need you. I just want to help you and in return, you will be my wife for a year till I get my potential bride and by doing that, I will be able to get my mother off my neck." He said. I knew what he said was true and that I needed him. "Okay, for just a year?" "Yes, just a year." He replied. * * * * She needed him. He wanted her. Jenny Darlington knew she only had herself to blame when Jason Thorne, her unrelenting neighbor, made that request. She had accepted his help to claim custody of her kid and in return, she will be his wife for twelve months. She soon realized that Jason was not all the jovial and funny guy he showed. He was seductive and alluring. He was the guilty pleasure of ladies who wanted to be beneath him, writhing and moaning in pleasure. He hummed with whispers of temptation - the temptation to sin and surrender, to let him make you his. He was capable of awakening every dead need and desire. But he was not capable of one thing. That thing has been the secret he carried in his heart for years. Jenny thought she had accepted a minor thing, only for her to find out that what she had accepted was not ordinary. She accepted Sin In Tom Ford Suit. What happens when she resumes her new job and she figures out that her new boss was her... Contract husband?

It is the third year of my marriage when the video of my bodyguard, Julian Sutherland, holding an umbrella over me in a downpour goes viral. Overnight, the internet becomes obsessed with the "Icy Protector and his Forbidden Heiress." Netizens are relentless; they dig through the archives until they unearth a ten-year-old clip. In the video, a girl was holding a pair of high-heeled shoes while sprinting through the Folander airport. My friend teased, "No way, Ms. Serina Brown. Are you really flying back home to confess to that poor man? What could you possibly see in him?" The camera shakes, capturing my youthful face. I was just a reckless 20-year-old. "I love Julian. I love everything about him." That night, after seeing the video, Julian loses his composure and bursts into my room. "I didn't know you loved me back then. I thought… I thought… God, it was never supposed to end like this." I pull my coat around me and stand rooted on the spot, remaining silent. Suddenly, a mocking laugh echoes from behind me. Someone places their hand firmly on my waist and says, "Are you trying to reminisce about your love with my wife right in front of me? Do I look dead to you?"

Kevin, the elite bodyguard I'd spent ten years training, chose my adopted sister, Eva, over me when it came down to life and death. So I went straight to an underground fight club and picked out the craziest, most ruthless bastard I could find. A month later, Kevin got word and came rushing back, dragging his battered body past the guards at my door, fighting within an inch of his life. He knelt on the floor, eyes bloodshot, clutching the hem of my dress. "Principessa, what does that scarred stray have that I don't?"

"You were never her, Aria. You were just... there." Jason's words echo in my head as I stand in the back of the church, watching him mourn another woman on her sister's wedding day. Isabelle. The perfect dead girlfriend. The ghost I've been competing with for three years. I thought I could be enough. I thought love could grow where grief once lived. But when I find the evidence, when I see the hotel receipts, the text messages, the photos of Jason with Isabelle's sister Violet, I realize the truth. I was never the love story. I was the intermission. What I don't know yet is that nothing about my marriage was real. Not Jason's cruelty. Not Violet's affair. Not the stranger's rescue. They've all been playing a game, and I'm the prize they're willing to destroy each other for. When the truth comes out, when I discover why Isabelle really died and who's been pulling the strings, I'll have to decide: Do I let them destroy me, or do I burn their whole world down?