Last For Love Novels & Stories

Completed-----She felt good—better than Zander Stanton remembered, and he had a damn good memory when it came to this woman. But his hatred was more pronounced than the little voice in his head telling him to give her what she wanted—his love. But Elvie had never been the one for Zander. He loathed her. He hated her family for arranging a marriage he never wanted. Yet she had no choice, and a day hadn’t gone by when she hadn’t replayed memories of the man who’d captured her heart without trying. Here she was, just as stupid as she remembered. "I—I'll take a shower, and I'll be b-back." She muttered and left his room immediately. This was her goodbye; tonight, Zander would be hers. And she would set him free forever. Five years later, with amnesia and a missing four-year-old daughter, could fate play her again, or was she willing to quench his desperate thirst for her love?

When Delaney turned sixteen the migraines came along with nightmares of a life that was never hers. On her eighteenth birthday, she turned into a wolf. Yeah, a fucking wolf. With no family and a group of men on her heels, she is on the hunt for the man in her dreams. The one whose face haunts her vision every time she closes her eyes. The only thing Delaney is certain of is that she might be batshit crazy, her whole life has been a lie and she is searching for a man named Lach. She is back. It's the only thing on Falcon's mind, ninety-nine lifetimes and finally, they have reached the last. The final rebirth. She has no idea the hell he intends to unleash on her…or planned to. Until she stumbles into his campfire with a curse word and nervous chuckle before passing out. She is supposed to look the same every reincarnation. She is supposed to have striking white hair and golden eyes that pierce your heart. So who the fuck is this redheaded, green-eyed spitfire with the aura of the woman he was been predestined to slaughter in every lifetime?

The wedding had been postponed ninety-nine times. I called the wedding planner and told them to change the bride's name to Ivy Sterling, Charles Hart's childhood sweetheart. "Donna, are you sure?" the planner asked cautiously. "This time, the Don didn't postpone again." I heard the surprise in his voice. My answer was calm. "Yes. Change it to Ivy Sterling." From the very beginning, Charles gave only one instruction for the wedding: "Adjust the decorations according to Ivy's taste." He explained that Ivy had good taste, that she would only serve as a reference for our wedding. But every choice, the flowers, the favors, the entrance music, was made by Ivy. Even my wedding dress. She had said lightly, "A mermaid silhouette suits her better." So I decided to give the entire wedding, steeped in her presence, to them. And I walked away from this farce completely. From now on, let him keep his old dreams. I will go and enjoy my own boundless sky.

My son is severely allergic to pollen, and because of his rare blood type, he must receive a specific desensitization injection at a bigger hospital in a different state. To make that happen, I deliberately booked the same flight as my wife just so our son could get help as soon as possible. But she insists on waiting for her late-arriving first love, refusing to let the plane take off. When I confront her, she says, "All passengers are equal. If the plane can wait for you, why can't it wait for him? Cam still needs to celebrate Josie's birthday. It's just ten minutes. Nothing will happen!" However, by the time we arrive at the hospital, the doctor tells us we missed the critical window for treatment. We were just ten minutes too late. Our son has now become a vegetable.

"You are my wife only in paper. You will never be my mate." Ace said to her as tears rolled down her face. Ofcourse she knew he was forced to marry her, just like she was. But she hoped someday he will warm up to her. Why did he hate her so much when she was also forced into this marriage? Everyone is blaming her for not siring an heir yet for the southern pack, but what no one knows is that he has never laid a finger on her. They sleep in separate rooms. So why can't he just stand up to his father and ask her for a divorce so that he can be with the woman he truly loves?

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked me. I looked at him, the hate in his eyes as he was looking at me was just too much for me to take. "I am here to claim my rights, I am your wife and you are my hubsband. As a married couple, we should stay together under one roof," I said and watched as he scoffed. "You left me 5 years ago, and now you suddenly want your rights as my wife? That is not happening," he said and then walked toward the door. He opened the door for me, "Get out," he said and I smiled. I left 5 years ago and that was the biggest mistake of my life. I should have stayed and fought for my daughter's rights and mine. I should have stayed and fought for our relationship. "I am not going anywhere, you and I exchanged vows. Till death do us part, I will only leave this house in a casket. I am here to stay now," I said. Well, he doesn't need to know that me leaving in a casket might happen very soon. He can't know the truth, first I need to help him bond with our daughter. This is his last chance to realize his mistake and also my last chance to find out the truth. Why did someone frame me of having an affair? Why was he told that he can't father a child when he has a child with me? Who planned all of this?

To get a divorce from Dante Conti, I volunteered to walk away with nothing—even our three-year-old son. Seeing that I had deliberately changed back into the old clothes I wore before marriage, Dante froze for a moment, then sneered, "So? You don't even want Nico, the heir you fought so hard to give birth to?" "Careful. Play your part too long, and you won't be able to recover the scene," he warned. I pushed the signed agreement toward him. "Don't worry. This isn't acting." Dante shot me a puzzled look before signing his name. "So obedient? Fine. I'll be magnanimous and let you see Nico from time to time." He set down the pen, his gaze appraising me. "And if you regret it… come to me now, and maybe—just maybe—we could remarry—" I cut him off, standing and walking away without a word. He had thought I married him for the Mafia's power, that's why I had given him an heir to inherit his family. But once he knows I'm dead, there will be no more misunderstandings.

Babes is a strip club where the dancers danced, there are strict rules for the dancer not to offer themselves to their clients. Prostitution is a big no at the club. Though rules are meant to be broken, especially when the dancers are desperate enough to get extra cash. Babes cater to a high-end clientele of well-dressed men with various backgrounds, from rich sleazy playboys, and bad boys CEO executives, to cheating husbands with cash to spend for a private lap dance. The dancers at Babes are beautiful sexy women with different backgrounds from struggling actresses, and single moms with bills to cover, to students having to pay for their student loans, there are also women who just like to dance and be appreciated by men. But at Babes, people fall in love, strangely they found their match in the high-end strip club where they least expected. Follow this story and read how the dancers struggle for love and how the men find their future happiness.

Because I saved my husband during a car accident, I lost my eyesight. He wept, promising to treat me well for the rest of our lives to repay my sacrifice. I cooperated with the treatment wholeheartedly, hoping for a full recovery. But on the day I finally regained my sight, I stumbled upon something that shattered my world. In our marital home, his first love lay beneath him, her flushed face betraying the passion of the moment. Their bodies intertwined, and the air around them thick with stifled moans—a vivid tableau of infidelity. "She's just a blind woman. Why haven't you divorced her yet?" the woman murmured impatiently, her voice laced with disdain as she moved against him. My husband, immersed in pleasure, still mumbled an excuse. "My love, just a little longer. Soon, we'll be together openly…" I turned and left without a word, pretending I had seen nothing. As I walked away, I remembered the witch's sacrificial ritual in the misty forest—only a few days away. My husband's betrayal cut deep, carving wounds I couldn't ignore. I made up my mind to return to the forest, to embrace my identity as a witch once more, and to sever all ties with him. Yet, after I disappeared, word reached me that he was searching for me everywhere like a madman. Rumor had it he had completely lost his mind.

I was once the most respected female intelligence officer in the underworld. I controlled black market trade, port lockdowns, and risk assessments for every smuggling route. These were the basics every new recruit learned on their first day in the Mafia. But my intel was never reliable. As time went by, everyone caught on. In this city, whether the ports were locked down or open for business didn't depend on intel. It depended on whether Vincenzo's childhood friend was in a bad mood. I had just sent an order over the family's secure channel: "Level-one lockdown. All shipping routes are closed." A moment later, the ports were thrown wide open. My rival mocked me in front of everyone. "Isabella's supposed to be the queen of underworld intelligence, isn't she? What happened, did she lose her touch?" Other family members twisted the knife without a second thought. "Her husband changes the rules at a word from his precious Amelia. Who's going to listen to her anymore?" "She's on the hook for any losses from this. That route reopening is going to bankrupt her!" I clutched a stack of formal censures from the family. I said nothing. It didn't matter. I was done being a pawn in their games. Soon, I would be gone for good.