Keys Sound Novels & Stories

My biggest mistake wasn't falling for a man that was all kinds of off-limits; it was thinking the moon goddess wasn't listening to my deepest, darkest thoughts. Professor Deville was the man who made literature sound erotic, every whiff of him my kryptonite; so when he offered me more than just a polite smile that night at the bar, I dropped everything for him - panties included. What I had no idea about was that there were two different variants of Professor Deville - the man who lived for words, and the man who loved for swords; and I was fated to both. Now, my mate bond tugs me in two different directions, to two different men who share more than just the same face, and to two men who were far more than just off-limits. Would my forbidden fantasies finally beget a love that can overturn old laws, or would everything and everyone around us bring us down from the high of our feelings? In this forbidden romance book, Aliyah has to choose between more than just two mates, she has to also choose which one of them lives and which one dies.

"But I Denovon Rowland need a wife.” Emily’s heart skipped. “I don’t want to go on another blind date,” he said, voice steady and sure. “So if you’re willing…” He leaned in slightly, lowering his tone just enough to make her feel like the world had paused. “Let’s get married.” Emily gasped quietly, stunned. “I promise you won’t be at a disadvantage,” he added, gently. It hit her harder than any insult or betrayal she had faced. This… this wasn’t something she had expected. Not today. Not from him. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She was frozen. Denovon noticed. He gave her a small smile..confident, calm, and sure. “Sleep over it,” he said. “I’ll be waiting for your reply.” And just like that, he turned   Betrayed by her family, by her fiancé, and left with nothing.Emily Carter had lost it all. Until Denovon Rowland, the cold billionaire CEO, offered her a deal: his name for her silence.Now, as his wife, she’s not just surviving—she’s taking back everything they stole. And this time, she’s untouchable

For twins Ethel and Elise, the line between dream and nightmare was always thin—and on Paron Island, it has been completely erased. Their idyllic gap year, a sun-soaked mosaic of beach bonfires and reckless abandon, is shattered in an instant. A "project," as the panicked news reports cryptically call it, has gone horrifically wrong, releasing a pathogen that reanimates the dead with a singular, gruesome purpose: to feed. The sisters' bond, once defined by shared secrets and sibling rivalry, is now their only anchor in a world drowning in blood. Driven by a raw, primal instinct to protect each other, they join forces with a few other fortunate—or unfortunate—souls who survived the initial onslaught. Together, this makeshift family must navigate the ruins of their former paradise, where every shadow hides a potential threat and every human sound could be a lure. Ethel, the more cautious sister, finds a hidden strength in strategy, while Elise's impulsive nature becomes both a weapon and a liability. But their fight against the decaying hordes is only the surface of the terror. Whispers of a coordinated presence, of supplies that go missing too conveniently, and of strangers who seem to know too much, point to a more insidious truth: the island's collapse was not a random tragedy. They are being hunted by something that thinks, that plans, that wears a human face. As their hope for rescue dwindles, Ethel and Elise are forced to confront the ultimate horror—that in the midst of an apocalypse, the most monstrous creatures of all are still human.

"I have to say I quite like the sound of my name on your lips," he bent over until they were face to face. He smiled at her as if to let that piece of crucial information sink in. Anelia's breath caught at his close proximity. "Come now, breathe Anelia. I have hardly started," butterflies and even more butterflies erupted in her stomach. Anelia Telford only cared about three things in her life; taking care of her sister, doing her job and staying off the radar. Being a loving and hardworking person she had no trouble keeping the former two in check. The latter? Well, that didn't exactly work out considering she ended up encountering a man whose comings and goings alone were a mystery at La Vida; the hotel she worked at. As if being manipulated by a whirlwind, her life gets entangled with Dexter Black's, a man she would have only used the words arrogant, annoying and sly to describe. But what happens when two people from two different tracks of life suddenly develop feelings beneath the dislike they have for each other? Will Anelia be able to handle the complications, manipulations and pain that come with loving a wealthy man such as Dexter. Find out in this heartwarming story where true love wins! *Unedited*

The impoverished student I had sponsored, Jacob Murphy, had accumulated a massive gambling debt. When the debt collectors had kicked the door open, my childhood sweetheart, Renee Austin, had shoved me forward instead. Her voice was cold and distant. “He’s Jacob Murphy. Take him away.” In the darkness of an underground casino, they tore out my fingernails, then smashed my ribs one by one with an iron rod. When the searing pain arrived, I groveled on the floor like a dog. I was weeping and screaming, without a shred of dignity. Then, they “mercifully” gave me one chance to call for help. Clinging to the last sliver of hope, I called Renee. Her voice on the other end sounded very cruel. “If you hadn’t set him up, how would Jacob have ended up buried in gambling debt? Even if you die at their hands, you deserve it.” The dial tone after she hung up became the last sound in my world. Later, I really did die, just as she had said. However, there was not the slightest trace of a smile on Renee’s face. It was as if she had gone mad. Her eyes were bloodshot as she searched every underground gambling den in the city. ‘Renee, why were you crying for me?’ I wondered.

Hera is not your typical girl. While most are likely to expose their face, she prefers to cover it with her hair. Friends? She doesn’t have those. You can say she’s anti-social and nearly a psychopath. But that’s not the weirdest thing about her. It is the fact that no one has heard her voice ever since she entered the orphanage that makes her the subject of gossip. On top of which, she lost the will to study, owing for her marks to barely reach the passing score. The funny this is, despite being dumb, the president of Sagkahan High invites her over to their school with a full scholarship. It is a prestigious institution that only accepts exceptional students whose IQ exceeds a hundred and fifty. She never likes the sound of it, though. It’s so fishy. It’s until she wakes up in an entirely different body that her disposition changes. What’s more is she’s inside the president’s daughter. As it turns out, the school knows her better than she is to herself. It makes her wonder why they collect her information when she’s just a mere orphan. Along with the goal of comprehending the secret of that body transfer, she enters this school and rose to become the most intelligent student. Things will only become more interesting from there.

“Richard, if Lynn and I were hit by a car at the same time, who would you save first?” I once asked, curled up in his arms, teasing like a spoiled pup. He just scoffed, ruffling my hair. “That kind of situation doesn’t exist.” But when blinding headlights tore through the rain— He didn’t hesitate. He shielded Lynn in his embrace, and I was thrown into the blood-soaked street. Through the agony, I heard my phone buzz. A message from him: [What tantrum are you throwing now? Why didn’t you come to Moonstone today?] While the machines beeped beside me, I caught the sound of his gentle voice drifting from the next room—comforting her. “Don’t be afraid. I just reacted to the person closest to me.” That was the moment I wiped away bloody tears with a smile. Fine, Richard. Then you’ll watch with your own eyes—ten days from now, when I put on a wedding dress, it won’t be for you. It’ll be for your sworn enemy, the Alpha of Bloodmoon. On the eve of the ceremony, a helicopter thundered down onto the estate balcony. He kicked open my door, yanked my wrist with his tie. “Come with me.”

Seven years ago... I was his stalker. Three years ago... I was his wife. Two years ago... I was his ex-wife. Since the day he left me, my life has never been the same. It seems like I gathered all life's misfortunes - my mother died from cancer, our family business went down, and my dad could not face the shame, so he killed himself, leaving me to take on the responsibilities of paying his debts. I have to work hard to make ends meet. I worked as a baker, a dance instructor, and an entertainer to pay the debts as well as to support myself. I was trying to be okay until he came back. He manipulated everything - owned the bakeshop where I worked as a baker, paid me to give him private dance classes, and made me agree to perform in private with him. Do you think that is already worse? Nah-uh! He paid my family's debt in the banks, so I am obliged to pay him based on his terms. I am Patricia Sandoval, sold to Stuart Cordoval - I am his personal assistant, private chef, personal dance instructor, exclusive entertainer, and on-call bedwarmer for my beloved ex-husband. This may sound absurd, but yes, I am sold to my ex-husband.

The day I win a brand-new BMW, I suddenly receive a call from myself, ten years in the future. "Kieran will ask to borrow your car in a bit. And whatever you do, do not lend it to him. He intends to use it to pay off his gambling debt." Even with such an impossibility happening to me, I do not doubt a thing. When Kieran asks for my keys, I shut him down at once. That very night, he drives his old beater car to visit our parents. Along the way, he loses control of the car and collides with another vehicle. Just like that, he slips into a coma. The guilt hit me so hard that I eventually pass out. Mom and Dad stay by my side day and night until I can stand on my own two feet again. But the future version of me sounds cold when she calls again. "They only want to push you onto an operating table. They want your heart to save him!" Growing suspicious, I check their bags and find a donor report. Rage burns through me. I immediately block them on all platforms and throw them out of my home. When news that Kieran dies from blood loss arrives, I learn that they only ever needed my blood—not my heart. I try to find them to tell them the truth and apologize for my mistake. But the mysterious phone rings again. "They hate you because Kieran died. If you go to them now, they will drag you into a suicide pact." I freeze at the revelation, then tell my future myself that I will wait until they calm down. Later, I learn that a thief breaks into their home and kills them. I try to rush over and see them one last time, but a truck hits me and kills me on the spot. I die without ever understanding why the version of me from ten years in the future wanted me dead. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day I won the prize.

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.