Honeymoon Kitchen

“We signed the divorce papers six months ago. Tonight I’m wearing the lingerie he bought me on our honeymoon…and I’m not leaving his penthouse until he remembers why he put a ring on it.” Lila Grant never begged,not when Ethan built his empire on her late-night sketches. Not when he shut her out with silence colder than the marble floors of their Manhattan tomb. Not when she scrawled her signature on the line that severed them. But six months of celibate nights and whiskey-soaked memories have carved her hollow. One look at him across a crowded gala with his new fiancée draped on his arm like a cheap trophy and something primal snaps inside her. She kisses him in front of the cameras. Claims the mouth that once whispered mine against her throat and then she issues the ultimatum that detonates their carefully buried war: Thirty nights. His Hamptons fortress. One bed. No safe words. No surrender. If either of them says the word divorce, the other walks away with everything,money, pride, the last shred of sanity. Ethan never lost until Lila walks back in wearing red silk and the scent of ruin. What begins as a vicious game of who-blinks-first spirals into something darker. Jealousy that tastes like blood on the tongue. Sex that leaves bruises shaped like vows. He wants to punish her for leaving. She wants to burn the memory of his touch out of her skin. Both get exactly what they came for,until the one thing neither planned explodes between them: She’s pregnant. And the man who swore he’d never beg is on his knees

I was on the verge of unbuckling his belt when he pulled away so forcefully I stumbled forward, disoriented by the sudden loss of contact. My core throbbed, my nipples could cut diamonds, and my skin was so sensitive even the brush of air caused me to tremble. But when the fog of sensation dissipated, I realized Alex was glaring at me. “Fuck.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, his scowl fierce enough to make grown men quake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” “Alex—” “No. What the hell were you thinking?” he bit out. “Did you think we would fuck in the kitchen while your friends are in the other room?” Heat scorched my cheeks. “If this is about Josh—” “It’s not about Josh.” Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a slow, controlled breath. “Not entirely.” “Then what is it?” He wanted me. I knew he did; I felt it, and I’m not just talking about the massive bulge straining his pants. Yes, Josh would attempt to murder us both if he found out what happened, but he couldn’t stay mad at us forever. Besides, he didn’t return to D.C. until Christmas. We had time. “It’s me. And you. Together. It won’t work.” Alex’s glare intensified. “Whatever fantasies you have of us swirling in that pretty head of yours, kill them. That kiss was a one-time mistake. It’ll never happen again.”

When my husband and I drop by his childhood home for Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law, Melissa Potter, is the only one busying away in the kitchen. Everyone else is on their phones. I've just taken a seat when Melissa begins to lecture me. "What, are you just going to sit your ass down and wait for food to come? Don't you know when to lend a helping hand? Am I supposed to exhaust myself for your sake?" From time to time, she keeps rattling the pots and pans loudly. "I can't believe those with healthy bodies want a 70-year-old like me to serve them! Does anyone here have any conscience?" Feeling a little uneasy, I gave my husband a tiny nudge. "Why don't you help Mom out?" After Melissa hears my suggestion, she gets even more pissed off. Thinking that this is my first Christmas with my in-laws, I don't really want to cause a scene here, so I get up to my feet and help her out. But the moment I enter the kitchen, Melissa delegates all the tasks to me. I endure my fury as much as I can while finishing the Christmas dinner preparations. When I'm about to head back to the dining table and dig in, Melissa suddenly speaks up. "Hold up. We got scores to settle before dinner."

"Get up, I'm hungry. Cook for me NOW!" The authoritative tone jolted me awake, not giving me a moment to freshen up or even change. We don't sleep side by side; he stays in the master bedroom while I occupy the guest room. He can't stand being near me. It hurts deeply when those words come from him, but it's a recurring pattern. I hurriedly made my way downstairs, still tying the robe around me. In the kitchen, I began preparing his breakfast. You see, I'm his secret wife. No one knows except our parents and a few friends. Since we got married, not a day goes by without him reminding me that he doesn't love me. Not a day goes by without him hurting me. But that's alright because, as I've mentioned, I love him so much that I'm willing to do anything just to earn his love in return. A single tear escaped and fell onto the clove of garlic I was chopping. I quickly wiped it away. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Manang watching me. I took a deep breath to regain my composure before turning to her with a forced smile. "I'm sorry; I got emotional over garlic." I lied.

Ava Coleman was always looked down upon as a mistress's daughter in her family. Her father Jackson ignored her existence and never said a word to her. Her stepmother Bianca treated her like a maid. Even worse, as she grew up, she started to feel a dirty gaze on her body from her stepbrother, Jonathan who wanted to have her first time at all costs before she found her mate. The only hope for Ava is to find her mate and escape from hell. To celebrate Jonathan finding the Alpha's daughter as his mate, her family held a big Party, and they invited many well-known Alpha families. But Ava was not allowed to attend, she had to cook in the kitchen though that day was her 20th birthday, Her stepmother forces her to serve a drink to a furious man -the ruthless Alpha Thorne, the Alpha of the Black Mountain pack. People said he turned into a cold-blood Alpha since he lost his Luna years ago. Unexpectedly, he turns out to be her mate. Alpha Thorne has no thoughts of taking a mate despite his pack's persuasion to take Agatha, the sister of his beta as his mate. But when he sees Ava for the first time, he's overwhelmed with the desire to have her. A cold man and a broken girl. Will they heal together and find love or will misunderstandings and enemies break them before they even know how to love again?

"In the kitchen, she's a firestorm. In love, she's about to burn." Youngest Perez. Billionaire. CEO. Head-turner. Maxine Avrielle Griego Perez has it all-beauty, brains, and billions. With multiple successful businesses under her name, she's unstoppable. But behind the glam life, may isang pangarap siyang matagal nang hindi natutupad: To become a certified chef. As her final requirement, she's sent to train at Moonlight Kitchenette, a cozy restaurant owned by her tito-but managed by Chef Timothy Hayden Sanders, a perfectionist known for being cold, demanding, and insanely hot. At first, clash sila. She's used to being in control. He's used to obedience. But in between the yelling, stolen glances, and late-night cooking sessions, something starts to simmer. Timothy falls-for her strength, her sass, and that laugh she tries to hide. And Maxine? She falls harder. For the first time, she lets herself feel. Then comes Cassandra. The manager who's always wanted more than professionalism. One drunken night. One betrayal. Maxine leaves-broken, silent... and pregnant. Five years later, Maxine returns as a world-class chef and single mom. Fierce, focused, and definitely not here to rekindle anything. But fate isn't done with them yet. Timothy is back, full of regret-and still in love. He wants answers. He wants her back. What he doesn't know is... he already has a piece of her. Secrets will be exposed. Old wounds reopened. And somewhere between revenge, forgiveness, and five-star meals... a second chance might be served.

The moment I was pushed into the river by my six stepbrothers and drowned there, I was still clutching a piece of candy my mom had given me. When I open my eyes again, I curl up in my swaddle as a one-month-old baby. That's when I notice six children glaring at me darkly with their hands outstretched, ready to strangle me. As I stare at them, I begin cursing them out mentally. "Just you wait till the day I can speak, you bastards!" My mom rushes out of the kitchen instantly. "It's a rare occasion for me to cook for the family, so I told you to keep an eye on your baby sister. Why are you cursing all of a sudden?" The brothers swap glances with each other in confusion. The oldest brother, Alex Finch, scratches his head. "You must be hearing things, Mom. We were about to play with Meadow. No one was speaking just now." Upon hearing Alex's shameless words, I continue cursing him out silently. "You're the most shameless bastard I've ever seen! When I'm three years old, you'll plot to sell me to an old single man in the countryside! Screw you!" Mom's hands tremble slightly at that moment. She quickly picks me up, her eyes as wide as saucers. I flash a toothless grin at her in return. "Don't be scared, Mom. This time, I'll definitely protect you!" Watch as I, a one-month-old baby, send my bastard of a father as well as the six ungrateful brats to prison!

Alyssa Sean, the only daughter of a farmer . To Mr Sean female children are nothing but useless. He has three son and Alyssa being the only daughter have suffered so much from the hands of the man who claims to be her father . Her mother on the other hand would never try to stop him from maltreating Alyssa or else she is going to face the consequences. He hates Alyssa so much that he hardly care about her, her three brothers tried their best to help her from being sad , but they can only do little. Mr Sean is a very popular farmer in the small town close to Nepal , he is one of the richest farmer and the people respect him alot. He decided to sell Alyssa off , since she can't help him in anyway , she is just as useless as the kitchen according to his words which always hurt Alyssa. Selling her off to another country far from them , to no one else but the cold hearted devil (Luther Garry) He isn't human but not everyone is aware of that , he is just like every normal human you will come across, but his looks is more than human . He is so handsome no human could be compared with him . Gray long hair , pale blue eyes, pale lips and tall. Nobody knows about his family, he only have different people serving him . What happens when poor Alyssa is sold to serve him ? Will she able to cope with her new life ?

After I refused to donate my uterus to my older sister, Madeline Holloway, my childhood sweetheart grew to hate me. He plotted to send me into the bed of the top heir of Highcrest's elite circle. The heir's desires were intense, but he despised women who threw themselves at him. Everyone waited to see my downfall. Instead, he spoiled me beyond measure. Three years into our marriage, he loved getting his hands on me whenever he could—the balcony, the kitchen, the car, even at glamorous banquets. I could barely step into the restroom before he'd follow, pinning me against the sink. We never used contraception. Alas, I never got pregnant. It wasn't until the day I went to the hospital, thinking I might be expecting, that I overheard his conversation with the doctor. "Winston, you had me secretly transplant Madison's uterus into her sister three years ago. Now you want me to lie and tell her she's infertile? How can you be so cruel to a woman who loves you?" "I had no choice. Madeline's marriage will be on the rocks if she can't bear children. Madison's uterus was the only match." The familiar male voice sounded so icy and unrecognizable just then. That was when I realized the love and salvation I trusted without question were nothing but another lie. If that was the case… it was time for me to make my exit.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.