Inspirational True Stories Books

*Hybrid is the intro book to a series of books to follow called Thirteen Tribes, within this series there will be thirteen books covering the ancient and incredibly powerful Thirteen werewolf tribes of the world. Hybrid is the beginning to the unraveling of each Tribe* Laya is seventeen years old, a hybrid and in the eyes of humanity nothing more than a deadly virus. Her kind have been eradicated from the face of the earth because of a sinister plot that was created against all hybrids. She loses her parents when a she's only four years old to a clan called the brothers, they are a very powerful, sick and sadistic group of men who are driven by the elect of the world. Their purpose is to cleanse and restore peace, but they end up not only eradicating hybrids in their wake but also their own kind in a sick and monstrous sense of supremacy. Laya is taken in by a human tribe after her parents are murdered, but the kindness of this tribe is nothing more than a hold on some insurance against the brothers wrath. Laya doesn't know anything about what a hybrid actually is, she's never ever met one except for her parents and with her being so small still when they were killed she never learnt anything about her own kind. Laya is later met with a brother in particular named Groban who claims her as his after seeing what she is, he hides her and protects her inside his cabin, but why? There is a whole truth that starts to unravel itself and both Laya and Groban are to learn things about themselves that they didn't know, things that will lead in the truth coming to light in the fight between werewolves, vampires and humans.

Book 1 of The Badboys' Series Shelly Anderson is an average student enduring a normal high-school life. Max Jackson is known as the most mysterious player and bad boy at school. She likes going unnoticed at school and does not like to be the talk of everyone. He is one of the popular guys and does not care about what others think. She likes her own free time, reading her books and spending it on Netflix and she prefers to be alone in a quiet space instead of feeling alone in a crowd. He is often seen hanging out with his two friends, Connor McAllister, the playboy of the school and Alex Maynard, the friendly one among these three but also a jerk to others. She is antisocial and a loser, well, nerd to others as she gets straight A's. He is a rich spoilt brat and gets whatever he wishes to have by hook or by crook. Dancing and reading books is her passion. Racing and fighting is his obsession. What happens when Max becomes her new neighbour? With them clashing again and again, will Shelly be able to cope with him? Will he be able to make her his without telling her about his dangerous secrets?

Horror stories originate from somewhere. Whether from eyewitness accounts or from survivors' tales, they come from somewhere. And while all of us grow up with the folklore, how many of us genuinely believe that werewolves and vampires prowl through the night, taking what they want. I will admit I didn't believe the tales. I thought werewolves and vampires were nothing more than make-believe. Scary stories meant to keep kids in line. That is until a monster ripped me from my warm and sold me to the highest bidder. Where nightmares and horror stories become true is where my story begins. Can I ever be free again, or will the beasts rule my body and soul forever. TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."

My grandfather is a nationally renowned inheritor of an intangible cultural heritage. Today, I'm supposed to attend a grand ceremony as his rightful successor. However, when I arrive, I see my father's adoptive daughter already standing on the stage. She's dressed to the nines. She holds an award and is giving a thank-you speech, looking moved. In the past, I would've left without saying anything or speaking up for myself. Too bad for her that I'd been reborn. The discrepancy between our statuses is so large that we're basically from different worlds. Yet she has the nerve to claim to be my grandfather's successor and put on a show with what is supposed to be my family's.

Hanging in the living room is a drawing of Julia Graham's husband, son, and younger sister, Juliette Graham. Julia's son tells her, "If I add a fourth person to the drawing, it'll be the younger sister that Aunt Juliette gives me." Without hesitation or lingering emotions, Julia applies to become an undercover operative in the most dangerous mission to date. From this point onward, she severs all ties with them!

After dying suddenly from overwork, I found myself transmigrated into the life of a fake heiress who had been cast out of her wealthy family. While the real heiress reclaimed the life that had once been mine, I decided to leave the drama behind. Armed with my savings, I embraced a carefree lifestyle, swapping boyfriends every three days and living for the moment. Then, two months later, life hit me with a curveball—I discovered I was pregnant. The problem? I had no idea who the father was. With no choice, I approached the three powerful CEOs I had been involved with, each more arrogant and competitive than the last. What followed was a 10-billion-dollar bet by each of the three over who the father might be, with me caught in the middle. "I bet the baby belongs to all three of you," I teased, only for them to roll their eyes and dismiss me as ridiculous. Even so, when I gave birth to triplets, their argument outside the delivery room went viral, sending the internet into a frenzy and turning my life—and theirs—into a spectacle.

The daughter of our housekeeper was pretending to be a rich girl at college, handing out my designer stuff just to keep up the act. When I called her out, she actually had the nerve to say she was "redistributing wealth to help the less fortunate." I called the cops, but then she spread this wild rumor that I made her sleep with me for three years, and that she was using my luxury items to help me "atone for my sin." Then she and her boyfriend teamed up to try and have me killed. Next thing I know, I woke up and it was the exact same day she started her whole rich-girl act.

The housekeeper’s daughter, Selena Greene, deliberately chose to get married on the same day, at the same hotel as me. When our cars passed each other on the way to our weddings, she rolled down her window and asked to switch my bridal bouquet with hers. My bouquet, however, wasn’t just any bouquet. It was hand-carved from priceless jadeite by my grandfather himself—a one-of-a-kind heirloom and his blessing for my wedding day. “Trish,” she pleaded softly, “please. I’ve sacrificed so much for this wedding. I just want it to be perfect. I’ll give it back to you as soon as we get out of the cars.” My heart softened. Against my better judgment, I handed her my bouquet and took her cheap, plastic flowers instead. However, when we stepped out of our cars, she refused to return it. Worse still, during her ceremony, she tossed my jade bouquet onto the floor, shattering it into countless pieces. That bouquet had been my grandfather’s way of being present at my wedding. It was all I had left of him. Yet, in front of everyone, Selena put on an innocent act and accused me, “Who takes back a bouquet after a switch? A glass bouquet like this is all over online shopping platforms for ten bucks. I’ll just pay you back. Trish, you’ve made my life hard enough on normal days. Do you have to humiliate me on the most important day of my life, too?” Furious, I confronted her, but she ducked behind my fiancé and my brother, wiping at her eyes like the victim. My fiancé immediately went to comfort her, leaving me standing alone at the ceremony, humiliated and ridiculed by everyone. My brother, too, called me cruel and heartless. He cut me off financially and threw me out of the family home. Selena’s husband, having quickly risen to success with the help of powerful backers, unleashed his relentless revenge on the now penniless and alone me. In the dead of winter, hired thugs found me and brutalized me to death. And Selena? She became their princess, adored by all three of them. I sank into darkness, full of rage and regret. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the day of the wedding.

Thor and I grew up together—we were the definition of childhood sweethearts. We'd promised to attend the same university, graduate, and marry right after senior year. Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match, destined for a lifetime together. And I believed that too. I truly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. Until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina joined our class. At first, the two barely spoke. But as they grew familiar, their bond deepened in ways I could no longer ignore. He started staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for a drive along the coast. If she craved Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd quietly prepare everything she needed. I was furious. I confronted him, argued with him, and even threatened to break up. The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and coaxed me out of my anger. The second time, he dismissed it as another tantrum and tried different ways to please me. The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house in the pouring rain all night, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness. Again and again, I tried to leave, and every time, he refused to let me go. Yet with each reconciliation, something in him shifted. He started taking me for granted, assuming I would always come back. His patience wore thin. His apologies turned perfunctory. Even when he came to make peace, there was no sincerity left in his voice. So I said it for the hundredth time, and that was the last. That was the moment I finally gave up on him.