Novelas y relatos de I D Weeks Library

Ethan smiled. “Nothing. I love hearing you say my name. It sounds so good to hear it from your mouth.” "Oh! You’re teasing me!” I pouted. “You’re mean. You know I’m in a weak state right now, but you take advantage of my situation and tease me.” "Helena Starr.” I stopped when he mentioned my full name. “Yes?” "Your name is appropriate for you since your blue eyes shine brightly like stars.” It was unexpected, so I bent my head and blushed again. “Oh, thank you.” If he kept saying sweet things like that, how could I survive? My heart, oh, my heart, I was in danger! *** As an orphan, Helena doesn’t know her real parents. She only knows they have passed away. Living with Freya, her adoptive mother, and having a relationship with her boyfriend, Kenneth, is the peaceful life she wants. Until Kenneth ends the relationship. Then her life turns upside down. But it is the moment Helena meets with Ethan that she experiences many confusions, as Ethan has hidden something. As an Alpha King, Ethan lives his life to lead his people. A bitter past hinders him from finding his true mate and love until he meets Helena. Ethan cannot resist the instant connection and affection with Helena, but his secret will put her in danger. He knows he must protect Helena at all costs. Will Helena find out Ethan’s secret and have the happily ever after she longs for?

My mother-in-law, Eleanor, was having a heart attack, and my husband, Ben Dover—a heart surgeon—was the only one who could save her. Did I call him? Nope. I just stood there, watching her gasp like a fish out of water. In my last life, I'd begged Ben to come save her. He brushed me off, accusing me of interrupting his time with his mistress, Ima Schit. No matter how much I pleaded, he wouldn't come. Eleanor had died in the hospital. And when Johnny, my father-in-law, demanded answers, Ben flipped the script, saying I'd never even called. He made Eleanor's death my fault. Johnny, blinded by grief and fury, killed me. But plot twist—I woke up. Right back to the day this circus started.

"You're ours Little blue" Drew said as he thrust into me, forcing his brother's cock deeper into my throat. And I could agree more. They were mine as much as I was theirs... ~~~ Miles had ever felt anything like this. Not ever. This was humiliation on a cosmic scale, a total, gut-wrenching, earth-swallowing failure. One second, he was Miles Donovan, the golden boy of the class of ’26 who had a full merit scholarship, a perfect GPA, and a promising internship lined up for the summer. Everyone knew his name on that pristine, hallowed campus. He was the future. The next second, he was… this, standing outside a ridiculously cramped campus dorm at some random state university where his life would change. For the better or worse?

My fiancé wants to marry me in a pizzeria. At the same time, he promises to give his true love the rest of his life on a luxurious cruise. Our wedding is only 48 hours away, but I don't want him anymore.

On day ten of our cold war, Barry posted a pic—him and Lyla, locked in a kiss. His 'one true love.' I sent in my study abroad application without a word. At our grad party, he strolled in with Lyla, fingers laced with hers, looking at her with all his affection. A friend hesitated. "But what about Amelia? She loves you. You guys are getting married." Barry smirked. "She was just a stand-in. Now that Lyla's back, my fiancée should change too." So I slipped off the ring, handed it over, and disappeared. And he lost it. Tore through everything trying to find me. Years later, he finally did. Saw me with my husband, picking out baby supplies. His eyes went red. "Amelia, come back with me. Please?"

After my husband, Joseph Adams, hired thugs to smash my taco stand again, I pushed the destroyed remains to his company’s anniversary banquet. Joseph had his arm around his little secretary, Monica Martin, when he announced that she would soon be joining the company’s management team. I pressed the horn and called out, “Tacos for sale to support my husband’s mistress—three thirty a piece!” Amid the stunned and bewildered stares of the crowd, Joseph’s brows twisted into a deep frown.

On the day of my wedding gown fitting, a stranger burst into the VIP suite and stabbed me with a knife. “You think you deserve a dress this expensive after stealing someone else’s man?” She tore at the delicate fabric of my skirt. Then, with a twisted smile, she hurled a bottle of acid at me. The blade was buried in my lower abdomen. The pain drove me to my knees. She grabbed my hair and yanked my head up. “Gerald’s my husband! What are you? You’re nothing but a mistress who can’t even be seen with him in public!” Blood dripped down my fingers. That was when it finally sank in. The man I had been with for seven years had been keeping another woman by his side. “What’re you staring at? Even if I kill you, with my husband’s influence, no one will dare touch me!” Staring at her smug face, I pulled out my phone with hands slicked in blood and called my brother. “Matt…” My voice was unnervingly calm. “Come pick me up at the bridal shop. And please inform the Hoover family that the engagement is off.”

Trigger/ Content warning This book contains high sexual content for adults (18+) only. Proceed if you need your toes curled up in pleasure. **** “You know, I wanted you to watch me fuck my hoes… but there’s been a change of plan, Jax. I’ll watch.” “Watch what?” “You.” **** Jaxen DeLuca has just come face-to-face with the devil incarnate—a man deadlier than poison, feared like a curse and obeyed like a god. Everyone bends. Everyone worships the ground he walks on. Everyone… except Jax. But this is what she learns… Monsters like Charles don’t fall in love. They claim, They ruin, and they destroy anything that dares not kneel.

In Reychelle City, a contest was held to crown the most beautiful woman. After my cousin scarred my face, she seized first place with ease. What she never expected was that this year's contest wasn't for fame; it was to select the future wife of the Third Prince, a ruthless, bloodthirsty eunuch. That very afternoon, gifts poured in by the cartload. My betrothed panicked. That night, he tore up our engagement contract and carried my cousin into the bridal chamber. The next day, she trailed her lacquered fingertips across my cheek and sneered, "Alicia, with your ruined face, who would ever want you? Perhaps the beggar at the street corner might take you in." I caught her wrist, let out a cold laugh, and said, "Who told you I would marry a beggar?" Before her stunned eyes, I pushed open my parents' chamber doors. "Mom, since Maggie doesn't wish to be the prince's consort… let me take her place." Three years later, before the eyes of a shocked court, the Third Prince entered the grand hall with me at his side, with two children in tow. No one had foreseen it. This body of mine, blessed with the rarest gift of fertility, was the perfect match for a man believed incapable of siring heirs.

When Eric Sutton—my charming CEO husband—found out I handed a million-dollar project to his assistant Vivien Cheney, he figured his three months of radio silence had finally broken me. Suddenly, he's all, "Let's go to Iceland for our honeymoon!" Vivien heard and threw a fit. Threatened to quit. Classic. Eric, who treated her like royalty, freaked out. After three days of begging, he bailed on the trip—said it was for "work"—then handed her my ticket. Later, he shrugged it off. "Romance's petty. Work comes first. You're my wife. You get it, right?" Right. I just stared at Vivien's new post: a couples selfie—cheek to cheek, hands shaped like a heart. I didn't say a word. Just nodded. Eric thought I was finally playing the role: calm, supportive, mature. Promised an even better honeymoon when he got back. Too bad I'd already quit. Too bad he'd already signed the divorce papers. We were done.