Kindle App Not Syncing Novels & Stories

The train to Centraford was about to depart. That was the ride we'd spent our entire life savings—30 thousand bucks—to get a ticket for. I was gripping my mate, Byron Reynolds's, hand tightly, trying to pull him onto the last train to Centraford. This was the chance I'd waited three long years for. Once we entered Centraford, we could rise from being low-tier civilian werewolves to official Silvren Talons workers—registered, salaried, and numbered. If we missed this train, we'd be stuck forever in Sidersville, a chaotic melting pot, never able to enter the heart of the werewolf city-state. But Byron held us back, refusing to leave without Lisa Peters, who was still down by the river, washing her face. In the very last second before the train took off, I had our friends forcibly drag Byron aboard. We made it to Centraford and became Silvren Talons workers. But Lisa missed her chance. She was left behind in Sidersville and became a rogue, a plaything passed around by countless men. A few years later, she was tortured to death. Byron looked fine on the surface. But on the day of our marking ceremony, he drove a silver blade into my stomach, killing the pup growing inside me, and tore out my heart. His eyes burned red as he growled through clenched teeth, "This is all your fault. You're the reason Lisa never made it to Centraford. "She suffered so much before she died. Why do you get to be happy?" After killing me, he chopped my body up and fed it to the stray dogs. Then I opened my eyes—and found myself right back at the train station, before it departed. This time, I'd wait with him for the woman he loved so much. And I'd make him pay for everything he did to me and my pup.

I gave Michael the best two years of my life, but in return he handed me the divorce papers the moment my sister came out of the coma. ┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈ Since the moment my sister was born, it had always been about her, never me.... Everyone, including our parents adored and favored my sister, Seraphina over me. Even Michael, the man I had been in love with since I was a teenager, only had eyes for my sister. He loved her, dreamt of marrying only her and also starting a family with her. But circumstances forced Michael to take me as his wife instead and my sister fell into depression and tried to commit suicide in which I was held responsible for. I was only supposed to be his contract wife, but along the line I felt Michael had started to love me but that illusion shattered the very moment his love for my sister reawakened after she woke up from the two years coma. I agreed to walk away with a broken heart after granting him the divorce. And just when I was about to move on from Michael, he suddenly showed up at my doorstep to make things more difficult for me because he said he couldn't let me go and he's obsessed with me. That was the bitter truth - My sister was the love of his life while I was only his obsession and the object of his desire.

Meet Cameron Ezekiel MacMillan, all six feet, two inches tall. Ice blue eyes that can melt off your panties, and make you fall head over heels in love with him, with a sinfully gorgeous body. Cameron lost his wife five years ago, left alone with two kids; Summer and Spring, five and seven years respectively. All he wanted was a good nanny who wouldn't quit after a month or few weeks, not a purple-eyed woman who would make his heart race like never before. He hated the way she made him feel because he knew that feeling came with a weakness, one he couldn't afford while being the CEO of a multinational company. Meet Ruby Miller, all five foot five tall, with a very sexy figure, even though she wasn't really aware of her shape that way. Rare purple eyes that feel like they are looking into your soul, with kissable lips. Aside from that, losing people and things were her specialty. Five years ago, she had lost her parents, and now, her job, and her boyfriend just broke up with her. Finding a new job to tide over before going to law school was the plan, not falling for her boss. It is a billionaire-nanny story. Enjoy!

Before my boyfriend, August Cadwell, marked me, we went to register our mate bond at the Pack Affairs Department. Without a word of explanation, he unexpectedly had someone throw me out of the office. Then he walked in with his childhood sweetheart. He didn’t even blink when he saw me sitting there on the ground, shaking with disbelief. "Hailey's pup needs to be part of the Aurelis pack. The best and quickest method is for her to register a mate bond with a werewolf from the Aurelis pack. As soon as we sever the mate bond, I'll form a mate bond with you." Everyone assumed the lovesick version of me would wait just one more month for him. After all, I'd already waited seven long years. But that night, I did something unexpected too. I accepted my parents' arranged mate bond and quietly left for the Lymerian pack, disappearing from his life entirely. Three years later, I returned to my original pack to visit my family. My mate, Ryder Weyland, was now the lycan chairman. Because of an urgent council meeting, he arranged for someone to collect me from the airport. I never imagined that “someone” would be August. The moment he spotted me, his eyes immediately landed on the sparkling bracelet on my wrist. "Isn't this a knockoff of the bracelet Ryder Weyland, the lycan chairman, spent two million dollars on for his mate? Didn't expect you to turn this vain after just a few years. "You've caused enough chaos, haven't you? It's time to return. Hailey's pup is now of school age. You can take on the responsibility of pick-ups and drop-offs." I gently ran my fingers over the bracelet on my wrist. Little did he know that this was the cheapest one Ryder had ever given me.

The youngest billionaire in town with looks of Adonis and everything at his feet desired just one thing more in life. His perfect match. He wished for a wife whose beauty would turn heads, a smile which would lighten up his world and figure which would curve perfectly under his fingers. A beauty who spoke with etiquette and made him proud. But he got her A mediocre girl with average looks, fierce personality and no curves. Outspoken and downright rude. She was everything he didn't want his wife to be like. But who could defy when their souls were bound by threads of fate. She was insecure And he fueled it further She considered herself inferior to him And he used every chance to make it a belief. She had a beautiful delicate golden heart And he made sure to taint it black and crush it under his Gucci shoes. She was his not so beautiful wife And he made sure that nothing left of her could be ever considered beautiful. "I will taint every damn fibre of your body my dear Elle...every bit of it till you beg me to divorce you" -Ashton "I will love every flaw of you my dear husband ...each and everyone till this heart beats for you" -Elle BEAUTY SERIES: Book 1 His not so beautiful wife Book 2 His Scarred Beauty

Albert Roosevelt was the crush I was never meant to have. Like an idiot, I believed loving someone meant giving them everything, even if they didn't care about you. So, I trailed after him like a desperate puppy, bending over backward to meet his every whim. When he couldn't afford tuition, I begged Dad to fund him, sending him to the best schools. When his worn-out clothes made him a laughingstock, I pitied him and showered him with designer labels. And what did he do? He used what I gave him to chase after a gold-digging campus belle. To keep up appearances, he blew through money like it grew on trees. He even spread rumors that he was the real heir to the Roosevelts. To him, I was just an ATM. "Your family's loaded. It's not like you'll miss a few hundred grand. If you're gonna be stingy, maybe you should stop following me around," he said when his wallet ran dry. And like a fool, I believed that if I kept paying, someday, he'd love me back. After graduation, I funded his startup. The second it took off, he married the campus belle. He had the nerve to claim he earned everything through nothing but hard work. So, I crashed his wedding, and he buried a knife in my chest. "Only when you're dead, Eve Roosevelt. Only then will my pathetic past stay buried." When I opened my eyes again, I was face-to-face with a scowling Albert. "You can't scrape together a few hundred thousand dollars? It's Bianca's birthday. Are you trying to humiliate me?" I looked around the room and rolled my eyes. "Sure, I'll pay. But first? Kneel. You look pretty enough. Consider it charity, peasant."

I was a wedding planner, and I personally designed my husband's wedding to his mistress. I had been with Victor for five years. Three of those years were swallowed by the pandemic. The remaining two were spent married, pregnant, and raising a child. The wedding I had always dreamed of existed only as "next time" whenever it came out of his mouth, until the day I received a new wedding planning request. The client was a young woman, her eyes curved with laughter, her smile bright and full of hope. "This is the venue my boyfriend chose himself," she said softly. "He insisted the wedding had to be held here." I took the file from her, and my gaze stopped on the venue name. The church in Clairmont. The very church I had mentioned to my husband countless times, the place I had dreamed of more than anything else. I was just about to smile and marvel at how someone in this world shared my taste so perfectly when the groom's name leapt into view. Victor Langford. My fingers froze on the page. Across from me, the girl was still wrapped in her happiness. She added gently, "We've only been together for two months, but he said he wants to give me the best wedding possible." I curved my lips into a smile and fixed my eyes on that familiar face—the man I had lived with for five years. After all this time, the day I planned Victor's wedding had finally arrived. Too bad the bride wasn't me.

This book contains mature themes, intense romance, and adult situations. Do not Touch explores complicated desires, emotional conflicts, and darker aspects of relationships. It includes themes such as violence, strong language, power dynamics, and mature experiences. This story is intended for a mature audience. Reader discretion is advised.

My ex-husband Giacomo and my brother's widow, Zoya, are the reason I went to prison. Seven years. Gone. I crunched leaves on the way to Carlo's grave and—of course—they're there. Together. Right in front of his headstone. "Jessica?" His voice shook. Fake surprise. He wiped his eye like that meant something. "I've been looking for you for seven years. I thought you... were gone. "Where have you been all these years? Why didn't you ever contact me?" I said nothing. He kept going. "You're still mad about what happened? I had my reasons." 'Reasons?' I looked at him. Almost laughed. He and Carlo's woman killed Carlo. Framed me, kicked me out, and sent me to prison. He took half my life. And now he's talking about reasons—standing at Carlo's grave. But seven years of torment burned everything down. Love. Hate. All of it.

When I went to reissue my mate certificate, the Werewolf Affairs Division told me, "Your mate certificate is a forgery. We have no record of your registration." I stared at the clerk, unable to believe what I was hearing. "But Sam and I registered five years ago. That's impossible. Could you please check again?" The clerk gave me a look before double-checking the files. "We found Alpha Sam's record. But the registered mate… isn't you." My voice trembled. "Then who is Sam's legal mate?" The clerk didn't hesitate. "Lily." I gripped the back of the chair, white-knuckled, just to keep myself upright. Until the clerk had spoken that name, I'd still held on to hope. Maybe it was a clerical error. A mix-up. But of all people, it had to be Lily, Sam's childhood friend. And suddenly, everything started to make sense. In five years of being Sam's mate, he had never marked me. We'd only held a mating ceremony—no certificate, no legal bond. I had given up everything for that ceremony, poured all my hope and love into it, believing I was his, only to find the certificate was fake. The five years I'd thought were mine—our happiness—had all been a lie, crafted and upheld by appearances. If none of it was truly mine, then there's only one thing left for me to do. Leave.