Hunted Heir Novels & Stories

One night of masked deception. One night of feral heat. A lifetime of secrets. ~~*~~*~~ Morgana was a shadow in the house of Silas. A servant tasked with scrubbing the floors and hiding the scandalous secrets of her Mistress, Victoria, the Beta’s daughter. When Victoria’s debauchery threatens her betrothal to the lethal Alpha King Kieran Shadowfang, Morgana is once again forced into a mask and a royal gown to play the part of the perfect bride. She expected a cold meeting. She didn't expect the pull. One touch from Alpha Kieran ignites a fated mate bond that screams through her veins. One forbidden kiss leaves the Alpha obsessed with a woman whose face he hasn't seen. But when the truth is twisted by a master manipulator and a drugged rejection shatters her soul, Morgana is hunted into the woods with her new born. Three years later, she is no longer a servant. She is the queen of the rogues. A survivor, raising a son with the alpha’s eyes and a power that could level the kingdom. When Alpha Kieran, no longer the drugged puppet but a man desperate for the mate he thought he killed, he finds a woman who doesn't want him or his crown, and a son who doesn't know his name. Will Alpha Kieran be able to reclaim his mate, and son, or lose them to his mortal enemy, alpha king of the north?

Axe Noir, omega and second in the line of succession to the throne must marry Erwin Feret, alpha and current heir of the enemy kingdom due to the outbreak of war. Axe is everything an omega of his time shouldn't be: bold, independent, with strong opinions and total fighting prowess, he is an insolent omega, and that drives Erwin crazy. Erwin is an alpha raised in a toxic, alphaist environment, adapted to do what he wants, carefree and living his love affairs. Both as different as they are, they are destined to fall for each other, even if at the beginning they are only driven by desire, they may unknowingly be about to live the greatest love story of all time. That is, if war and lies don't destroy them first.

My husband, Kieran, is the heir to the Thompson family. In the three years of our arranged marriage, he has never once touched me. I told myself he was just cold and guarded, that I could find a way into his heart, little by little. Then one day he came home drunk, pinned me to the bed for the first time, and called out his first love's name. "Camilla, all these years... I've thought of you every second of every day..." That was when I knew. All the passion and love he possessed was already spent on another woman. I pushed him away, burned every photo of us, and went to a high-end club in New York full of handsome male models. Nine months later, I walked into the airport with my newborn baby in my arms. Later, Kieran searched the world for me, his eyes bloodshot. He asked in a trembling voice why I never told him I was pregnant, why I wouldn't let him see our baby. I glanced at him and gave a light, breezy smile. "Who said the baby was yours?"

There was a night missing from my memory. My husband’s affair didn't shatter me, the divorce papers he served like our marriage meant nothing didn’t destroy me. Even being cast out of my own home by his mistress wasn’t enough to break me. But discovering I was pregnant? That gave me a glimmer of hope that I might be able to save my marriage but instead that ruined everything. Because the baby isn’t my husband’s. And I have never slept with another man. I don’t know how this child exists, i don’t know who created this life with me. But someone remembers that night, someone knows the truth. And lately…I feel like he’s watching me. Little did I know, he was the exact doctor who confirmed me: PREGNANT.

"Our marriage is not some fairy tale. And my new wife? She’s not exactly a fan of the crown jewels. I’m a prince and heir to the throne of Salasia. I’m the most eligible bachelor in Europe. You’d think any woman would be ecstatic to marry me. Except for the one woman who I must marry to save my throne. She’d rather give me a poison apple than true love’s kiss. Now the pair of us must convince the world that our marriage isn’t just a convenient arrangement. As for me? I’ll prove to this stubborn princess that happily ever after isn’t just for fairy tales. The Princess I Hate to Love is the conclusion to The Heir Affair Duet, beginning with book one, The Prince I Love to Hate. "

During the eight years I spent by Alpha David’s side, I also raised the pup he had with my late sister. At his birthday banquet, I accidentally wore one of her old dresses. Eight-year-old Dorian grabbed a pot of freshly brewed coffee and poured it over me— right in front of the maids. The scalding liquid burned my skin, and when I looked up, I saw the same cold disgust in his eyes that I’d seen so many times in his father’s. “How dare you wear my mother’s dress?” he sneered. “You’ll never replace her. You killed her with that wicked heart of yours!” The coffee seared more than my flesh. It burned straight through my heart. I looked at the child I’d raised for eight long years. I didn’t feel angry. I didn’t even feel sad. Only a quiet kind of exhaustion. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

Ciara had one job: secure her engagement to the Alpha's heir. She failed. Rejected at the mating ball and left to freeze in the snow by her own father, she's saved by the last person she expected—Draven Stormclaw, the notorious bastard son everyone fears. His price for her rescue? Marriage. He claims he wants the scandal. A way to humiliate the brother who cast her aside. But the way he looks at her—the careful touches, the fierce protection, the warmth hidden beneath his cold reputation—tells a different story. As Ciara is pulled deeper into Draven's dangerous world, she begins to suspect he's hiding something. That his reasons for saving her run far deeper than revenge. But with her eighteenth birthday approaching—the day she'll finally sense her true mate—time is running out for secrets. Because some bonds are written in the stars. And some are forged in snow and desperation.

When Ava Harrison hide behind the wooden drink cart, she never expects to hear her world unravel word by word. Married for three years to Marcus Moretti, the cold but captivating heir to an international luxury conglomerate, Ava has sacrificed everything, her dreams, her dignity, even her health—to love and support him. But the man she trusted has been lying. And worse? He's been doing it with her sister, Sophia. With a positive pregnancy test clutched in one hand and her dignity in the other, Ava walks away from the man who never truly saw her. But the world won't let her go easily. Not when she's carrying the Moretti twins heir. Ava disappears, not just from Marcus's world but from everything she's known. She changes her identity, finds unlikely allies—including a mysterious masked man with a dark past—and begins a quiet life in Canada. But Marcus refuses to let her go. As he unravels the truth—that Ava was the one who saved his life years ago, not Sophia—he spirals into guilt and obsession. But Ava is no longer the naïve girl who cried in silence. She's determined to protect her unborn children at all costs. And when fate forces her to cross paths with Marcus again, both are pulled into a storm of regret, revenge, and revelations that will tear their world apart. Love, betrayal, and the strength to rebuild— This is a rollercoaster of emotions, laced with secrets, seduction, and the quiet resilience of a woman who finally chooses herself.

It is said that Marco Colombo, the heir of the Colombo family of Chiron, is holding a wedding for his mistress, Gina Bilotti, today. The scale is ten times grander than when he marries Isabella Pratico in a political union. I lean against the ebony railing on the second floor. Sipping my red wine, I watch the lively scene of clinking glasses and mingling guests below with quiet amusement. Gina is definitely favored—she is even wearing a ruby necklace. One should know that set of ruby jewelry is an heirloom of the Colombo family. It is something only the Donna and the wife of the heir are allowed to wear. "You must be Isabella, the one Marco who does not love." A voice suddenly comes from beside me. I turn my head and see the woman wearing the ruby necklace before me. Gina has come up to the second floor at some point and is now looking at me with a cunning smile on her face. I freeze for a moment, not yet able to respond. She suddenly grabs my hand and yanks it hard toward herself. There is a sharp tearing sound, and the hem of her wedding dress rips open with a long tear. Gina lets out a cry, and tears immediately stream down her face. "Mrs. Colombo, why did you tear my wedding dress? Marco specially commissioned this from an independent designer just for our wedding! "If you really cannot tolerate my presence, then I will break up with Marco today and leave Chiron…" The surrounding guests all lift their heads and glare at me angrily. I am stunned because I am not Isabella. I am the new wife of Marco's father, the woman of the current Don, and the Donna of the Colombo family.

My name is Clara Kelly. I was born in Brooklyn, into an Irish-American cop’s family. My father spent his whole career walking a beat out of the 84th Precinct. My mother volunteered at the parish. I was the first girl on our block to get into Columbia Law. The year I graduated, I was volunteering at a charity gala. I picked up the wrong glass of wine and ended up dumping it down the front of a man’s Brioni suit. That man was Adrian Francesco Moretti. Fourth-generation Don of the Moretti Family of New York, and one of the five families of Cosa Nostra. He chased me for four years. I said no six times. The seventh time, he stood outside my law firm in the rain until three-fifteen in the morning. I married him. Two decades in, he’d handed me the keys to the entire Moretti Family. In our world they called me “the Irish Donna,” a woman with no Italian blood who somehow held the seat. Childless by choice, the two of us. Famously in love. Until that Wednesday afternoon, when my college roommate of twenty years, my best friend Vivian Sinclair, walked into my living room with a five-year-old boy. She said the boy was Adrian’s son. She said that five years ago, she’d taken a used condom out of the wastebasket in my upstairs master bedroom, kept it frozen for three years, and done IVF. She said she was the real mother of the Moretti heir. She was the real Donna Moretti. “Be smart. Pack your bags and walk out. You might even get to keep your life.” “You’re barren. The Moretti Family doesn’t need you.” I looked at the woman I’d called my best friend for half my adult life. I didn’t say a word. She thought she was holding the winning card. What she didn’t know was that she’d just stepped onto a board Adrian and I had been laying for twenty years. I needed exactly one sentence to shatter every piece of the Donna fantasy she’d spent five years building.