If The World Was Ending You'd Come Over Right

My roommate bought an antique bronze censer online. She burned incense day and night, praying to be with a wealthy boyfriend. I thought it was silly, until her face began to look like mine. Soon, she became the admired heiress, while I was left drowning in debts she had deliberately racked up. I begged her for my identity back, and she pretended to agree. However, she tricked me into giving her my bank account password and pushed me off a rooftop. I learned at that moment that the censer was a cursed relic that grants wishes by draining the life and luck of another. She could take everything from me once my life was ruined, but death was not the end for me. I woke up on the day she first got the cursed censer. The truth was every wish comes with a price, and I was going to make sure she pays.

I was dying from my fear of heights, but my husband, Don Vincent, was busy with his assistant, savoring the latest coffee flown in from Hawaii that morning. "You're a grown woman, Bella. What's the big deal? You're stuck on a roof, figure it out." Then he hung up on me. I collapsed onto the hot tar of the roof, my body shaking uncontrollably before everything went black. It was two hours before building security found me. When I got home, I asked Vincent for a divorce. He rubbed his temples, his patience worn thin, looking at me as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. "Over a cup of coffee? I told you, the heights are all in your head. You’re perfectly safe now. Stop making a scene alright? What's this nonsense about a divorce? I have more important things to deal with. Calm yourself down." I stared at his back as he left, tears already streaming down my face. Something important? Did he really think I couldn't hear his assistant, Sophia, murmuring in the background? Did he think I didn't know he took her to the last family gathering? I had loved Vincent for three years. Everyone knew he was the center of my world. They all thought an orphan like me could never leave him. But now, all the love I had was eclipsed by a profound, soul-crushing exhaustion. I was done. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn't touched in three long years. "Uncle, book me a flight to Seattle. I'm ready to leave Vincent."

At twenty-eight, I held the dubious honor of being the last unmarried socialite on New York's Upper East Side. Everyone around me was growing increasingly anxious about my single status. In my previous life, my mother arranged a matchmaking cocktail party, where I was told to choose a husband from ten handpicked elite bachelors. I bribed the event planner to place Mark West's profile at the very top—and as I had hoped, I chose him. After we married, Mark treated me with what seemed like tender affection. He even bought me an oceanfront villa in the Hamptons, making me believe I had finally found true love. But that illusion shattered the day I was nine months pregnant, just hours away from giving birth. Mark drove a scalpel straight into my abdomen—then, right in front of me, hurled our newborn onto the floor. "If you hadn't forced me into this marriage with your family's power, Sofia wouldn't have been heartbroken enough to go drinking and get drugged and assaulted. This… this is what you owe her!" He tossed the scalpel aside, then calmly let his private doctor pin down my blood-soaked body. I fought through excruciating pain for six agonizing hours, until I finally bled to death. Afterward, Mark dumped my corpse into the Hudson River. But for Sofia, he hosted a grand funeral—funded with my money, under my name—and paraded himself to the world as a grieving, devoted widower. Given a second chance at life, I refused to step foot in that cursed matchmaking event. Instead, I went straight to my mother with a demand: marry me to Robert Black—the most ruthless, cold-blooded titan of Wall Street, whose scarred face was feared by all. In the end, stripped of my financial backing, Mark's hedge fund collapsed. He became a disgraced fraudster, spat on by everyone on Wall Street.

She spent three years faking moans for a boyfriend who never made her come. One night, one stranger in a mask, and she finally learns what it means to be wrecked against a wall. But when the mask comes off? He’s her professor. And he’s not done teaching her.

Though we've been in love for six years, Arnold Porter, the Chief Legal Officer of the Werewolf Council, has canceled our marking ceremony 66 times. The first time he did so, he claimed that Erna Porter, his adoptive sister, was coughing blood in the middle of her heat. Decked in my gown, I stood in front of the Altar of the Full Moon alone until the moon had disappeared from the skies and everyone had left. The second time the ceremony gets canceled, it was because he suddenly received a message in the middle of the ceremony, saying that Erna was abducted by Rogues. He tore off his robes and shifted into his wolf instantly, rushing to save her, while I was forced to endure the laughter of our guests. Whenever we are to hold a ceremony, Erna will always get into trouble and then seek his help. Finally, when he cancels the ceremony for the 66th time, both my wolf and I give up. I break up with him and leave. Three days after I traverse the borders of the snowy plains riddled with powerful winds that conceal my trace, he seems to go crazy. He sends the elite guard of his pack on a mission just to find me.

THE PLAYBOY AND THE GOOD GIRL Mixing business with pleasure can be dangerous but also quite sexy. “Playboy” Liam Right works for one of the best insurance companies in the States. His skillfulness and professionalism are well appreciated by his boss and rightfully so, he’s in line for a huge promotion. Unfortunately, only married men get such promotions. So, for the next three months, Liam needs someone to play the role of the dotting fiancée. And it’s quite urgent to find this perfect “someone” since his boss wants to meet the “future Mrs. Right”. Chef Maxima Davenport has returned to New York to fulfill her goals: become one of the best chefs in the country and create her own “empire”, starting from a small catering business. She needs a perfect place big enough to take her first steps. The solution to her problem comes from Liam, her best friend’s brother and the one Maxima has loved since she was fifteen. So, Maxima agrees to help him but a few rules of this fake engagement must be followed religiously. No kissing or touching unless it can’t be helped. No sex... Definitely no sex. No fooling around while they are in the privacy of Liam’s apartment. But can they really follow these simple rules?

My brother Mitchell sided with his dream girl when she accused me of bullying her. Despite being the only family member I had left, he exploded in anger and sent me away to a boarding school for so-called reformation to learn how to become a meek and obedient little sister. In time, I became exactly what he wanted—a docile sibling who never fought back, never argued. But everything changed the day he saw my medical report. He lost his mind. "Nora, I'm begging you—forgive me and let me be your brother again!"

My breath hitched. My step-brother did what? Did he give me to this man? This was insane! “I-I don't understand?” I lowered my gaze while trying to comprehend what he just said. Suddenly, a thought came to my mind and I lifted my gaze to look at him. “But can't you make me your maid? I'll work hard and pay back what he owes you,” I suggested. I desperately wanted to have the reins over my body again. He was quiet this time. His eyes were void of any emotion as the silence grew between us. Soon his voice sliced the air. “Baby girl, if I wanted a maid, I could simply get one. The only thing I need is a wife,” his words only dissipated the little hope I had of escaping.

I bring Selena Bloomberg home because I find her pitiful, and I treat her very well as if she were my own younger sister. However, I didn't think that she would end up impersonating me as the Bloomberg family's heiress and kill me afterward before getting rid of my body. Now that I am reborn, I refuse to let the same tragedy happen again. I swear that I will make her pay. An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth!

When Yelton Group tanked, their CEO and his wife showed up at our door, begging for a marriage alliance. My dad, thinking I was still head-over-heels for Rosie after ten freaking years, threw a million into their sinking ship and signed me up to marry Rosie. Wedding night? She blindfolded me and kept whispering how bad she wanted it. A month later, I tested positive for an STD. Then I caught her bragging to her friends. "Quinn got wrecked by, like, a dozen girls," she laughed. "Wanna guess who gave him the infection?" Her friends were cracking up. "I scouted all the grossest red-light spots," one said. "Each one's got a different flavor." "Just wait," another giggled. "When the symptoms hit hard, we'll know who wins." Rosie added, "Prize money's ready. Soon as we figure it out, she gets paid." That's when it hit me. It wasn't Rosie in bed that night—it was a lineup of strangers she set up. I lost it. Went straight to her, demanded answers. She didn't even flinch. "Mad? Please. If you hadn't dangled that million to force me into this marriage—or scared Caleb off—do you think I'd waste my time on you? "Once Caleb forgives me, you're done." I asked for a divorce. She locked me in the basement. "Chill," she said. "We're still placing bets on who gave you the STD." Six months later, I died down there. Just rotted away. Then I woke up—right back on the day her parents came begging for that deal. Only this time, on the wedding day? She was the one crying.