June And Day From Legend Novels & Stories

In this thrilling fabrication, watch how a young woman gets an unexpected bloody surprise on her wedding day! Joana, a young lady plans to get married immediately after high school to the love of her life, Andrew on her 18th birthday. She is unaware that she descends from a historical line of vampires, and she has lived her whole life as a human, with no knowledge of the supernatural. Due to an agreement made by one of her ancestors, Marilyn Lou, to the supreme council centuries ago, she is fated to become a vampire on her 18th birthday, the day she plans on getting married. She wants to return to her life as a human, and together with Derick, a vampire in Lou's coven who was in love with her ancestor, they begin the search for the council to make a new agreement. Will Joana be able to adapt to the new life she is about to encounter? Will her feelings for Derick get in the way of her plans? This is a story of love, mystery, drama, and more importantly, Vampires! Find out how Joana handles her fate in "Wedding day Vampire" This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

A centuries old tale of a woman who grants wishes to lonely souls haunts the mind of the new generation. Charlie Peddington is a broke, aspiring writer who wishes to write and publish her very first novel that would blow the minds of every reader she could imagine. She spends her time struggling in between master classes and in being a ghost writer to any student needing her service. As part of her final project, she's tasked to write the most out of this world story she could ever come up, with the possibility of being introduced to a well-known publisher courtesy of her mentor. But how does she make her story excel amongst the new generation of creators? Until an unfortunate event brought her to the life of a mysterious woman who rescued her one night. Her curiosity got the best of her, that when she learned of her identity, she realizes she could no longer turn her back against the things that she is about to discover. How will she fare against a half jinni, half witch who has lived for hundreds of centuries filled with the most out of this world stories she can ever imagine?

Brody Lewis, my fiance, said that I had a rare form of transient global amnesia, which was a sudden, temporary memory loss. Every seven days, I would open my eyes and become the twenty-five-year-old Riley Taylor again. My memories were forever stuck in the past. In my pen drive were videos of Brody taking me on trips, bringing me for treatment, and proposing to me. Everything seemed great between us, but I remembered none of it. “Riley’s still around. Can’t you keep your hands to yourself?” “Don’t worry. It’s Monday tomorrow. After she wakes up, she’ll remember none of it,” Brody said, and my heart sank. “Isn’t this more exciting?” Brody embraced my best friend, and they made out brazenly in front of me. They were not shy about it at all. I wondered just how many times this had happened over the past two years. I ran as tears blurred my vision. When I arrived at a tattoo shop, I grabbed the tattoo artist like a drowning man holding on to a log. Then, I asked the tattoo artist to tattoo these words on my arm in my handwriting. [Leave him.]

Luca let himself be kissed, feeling Scarlett’s skin beneath his hands. He caressed her back, slowly moving his way down. This time her senses were alert and not muddled from the ale. His coarse hands moving through her body made Scarlett shiver with pleasure. ***** In a world where humanity battles to survive the constant attacks of the blood-drinking Hova, the warrior tribe of women called the Karainas fight back. With their fire magic, they have defended their lands for centuries. Scarlett is the first person to become a Karaina without having any magic, and she has the strength, skills, and speed to prove her worth. But her journey partners her up with the most unlikely allies of all: the enemy.

On Valentine's Day, my husband Ethan Scott’s assistant, Taylor Winston, gifted me 360 used condoms. She leaned close to my ear and whispered that this was Ethan’s favorite brand. Then, in front of everyone, she teased, "Valentine's Day calls for some explosive fun. I hope you don't mind, Claire." Disgust churned in my stomach, and I couldn’t hold back—I vomited on the spot. Embarrassed that I had humiliated him, Ethan snapped, "It was just a joke. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?" Three months pregnant, I was so enraged that a patch of red stained my pants. I begged him to take me to the hospital. But Taylor chimed in, "It's just her physiological reaction." Furious, Ethan heartlessly locked me in the car. He spent three carefree days with Taylor before finally remembering me. But when he saw me again, the usually composed CEO of Scott Enterprise completely lost his mind.

On Teacher's Day, my wife, Hera, was promoted to associate professor. Even for our marriage we simply registered without a proper ceremony, yet this time, she specifically prepared a feast at home to celebrate. During the dinner, she took out the flowers a male student had given her and was about to put them in a vase. Without warning, I knocked the flowers out of her hand, flipped over the vase, and, under the bewildered gazes of the whole family, calmly said, "Let's get a divorce." Hera was stunned at first, then angrily snapped, "Stanley Lawson, what's gotten into you? I’m just putting some flowers my student gave me in a vase. What's the big deal?" My mother-in-law, Sarah Swift, chimed in, "Hera just got promoted to associate professor, and it's Teacher's Day. What's wrong with a student giving her flowers? Are you seriously getting jealous over that?" I glanced at the scattered petals on the floor and slowly said, "Yes, it's because of these flowers that I want a divorce."

The cocktail hour had just ended when I picked up a video call in the bridal suite. It was Ethan, three years from now. By then, time‑travel tech had matured enough to let him contact me three years into the past. After enough specific details, I finally believed it. The man on the screen really was Ethan, three years older. I rubbed my aching ankle and pouted at him through the screen. "Ethan, smiling at all these guests is exhausting. But the second I remember I actually married you today, I'm happy all over again." "We're still happy three years from now, right?" He was leaning back against a headboard, and he didn't answer. His face was flat and unreadable. Then I heard it: a woman's voice from his end, low and breathy, asking to be kissed. I froze for a second, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Is that future me? In broad daylight? Get a room." Ethan turned the camera into the bed. My maid of honor was lying there, naked, sprawled across his chest. Her body was covered in hickeys. He looked straight at me as I started to break, and his voice didn't shift at all. "As soon as the reception ended, I told you I had a client meeting. I went to her room instead." "Jo, now you know what's coming. The guests haven't gone home yet. If you want a divorce tonight, you can have one. Up to you."

"Sign the divorce papers, Nora." I didn't cry. I simply looked at the billionaire husband who had ignored me for three years and made one final demand. "One hundred days, Silas. Move back into my bedroom. Touch me like a man obsessed with his wife. On Day 101, I will sign the papers and walk away." Arrogant and certain, he agreed, assuming it was a desperate plea to use my body to win his heart back. He had no idea what he was walking into. By Day 20, the cold, untouchable CEO is rushing home just to pin me against our bedroom door. By Day 50, he’s pulling me into his lap, whispering breathless, desperate promises in the dark. He is addicted to the friction, using every searing kiss and heavy touch to forcefully brand me as his. He thinks the heated nights we share mean I am finally surrendering. He doesn't know the truth. I’m not using these 100 nights to fall back in love with him. I’m using his counterfeit passion to completely numb my heart. While my body responds to his fire, my soul is freezing over. On Day 100, Silas pours his soul into the most emotionally raw night of my life. He falls asleep holding me tight, entirely convinced his absolute worship has won me back forever. But on Day 101, he wakes up to cold sheets, an empty closet, and a signed contract. His money couldn't buy me. His touch couldn't keep me. Now, the billionaire who thought he was playing a game will burn his empire to the ground to find the wife who gave him her body, but vanished with her soul.

I had become the Luna of the pack. Mom called it a blessing. She said I'd married up, and that I should bring my sister, Ruby, into the same circles. Ruby was already scheming for a noble match. That was the whole point of her come-of-age celebration. I hated all the schemes. And the lilies on the table made it hard to breathe. My throat began to swell. My chest tightened. I realized I was allergic But I couldn't rest. "Bring Ruby around. Say hello to the wealthy families. You're the Luna. They'll treat you with respect," Mom said. I stayed. The wine she handed me made things worse. And my pampered sister, out of jealousy, forced an handful of allergy medicine down my throat. It was the kind forbidden for pregnant women. And I was six months carrying a wolf pup. In tearing, gut-wrenching pain, my pup left me. Mom cried again and again, begging for forgiveness. I pulled my hand away. Whatever love I had for her was gone.

I should have been walking down the aisle. Instead, I was running through the woods in my wedding dress. The white fabric caught on every branch, tearing apart like my life. My name is Camela Siegel. My father is the Mayor, and he sold me to save himself. Vincent Castellano was supposed to be my husband. They call him the Mad Prince, but I learned he’s so much worse than that. His hands trembled when he touched me—sometimes gentle, like I might break, and sometimes rough, like he wanted to overpower me. “You’re mine now,” he’d whisper in the dark corners of that house. “No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to hurt you but me.” I tried the door handle every day for three months. It only turned from the outside. When help finally came, I thought it was over. I thought I could go home and pretend none of it ever happened. I was wrong. Vincent found my journal—the one where I wrote about him, about what he did to me, and about who he truly is. Now he’s not just keeping me locked up. He’s hunting me. They call him “The Fox” for a reason. He’s patient and waits. When he catches what he’s after, he never lets it go. I can feel him watching me even now—through my bedroom window, from across the street, in the shadows where I can’t see him but I know he’s there. My father thinks making that deal saved his life. He doesn’t realize it destroyed mine. Vincent said he’d keep me until the last day of my life. I’m starting to think that day is coming soon.