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His cold hand gently brushed my cheek as he turned my head to expose my neck. I flinched when his lips met my skin. "Relax," he murmured. "It will only hurt more if you are tense." I tried to steady my breathing just as his fangs sank into my neck. I gasped. But the sharp pain quickly melted into that same strange pleasure from before. The heat that flooded my entire body pooled in my groin. My teeth clamped down on my lower lip to stop myself from making any embarrassing sounds. But a soft moan escaped anyway. Jude pulled back slightly with blood—my blood—on his lips. "You seem to be enjoying this," he smirked before glancing down at my bulge. My face burned with shame as I realized then that I was hard. "It's not... I don't..." "Your body can't lie, Raymond." He leaned back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "And neither does mine." *** All Raymond White wanted was a dream job, and he got a once-in-a-lifetime offer from the biggest company in the city. But he didn’t expect that it would come at a costly price—His blood, his body, and his sanity. His boss, Jude Perez, was no ordinary man—he was a vampire, and now that he had set his fangs in Raymond, he didn’t want to let go. Bound by a contract and a mystical pact, Raymond becomes Jude’s latest obsession, and Raymond is left to battle with the wave of arousal that comes with each bite, one that could only be quelled by the man he who stripped him of his freedom? Will Raymond resist the forbidden bond? Or will he succumb to Jude’s temptation?

I was three months pregnant when the car crash happened. In those final moments of fading consciousness, I frantically dialed Damian’s private, encrypted line—the one meant only for emergencies. He never picked up. By the time I was rushed into surgery, I received a crushing blow: Damian had forcibly reassigned my lead private physician to the South District. He needed the best doctor to treat his childhood sweetheart, Evelyn, who had just been widowed. When I finally drifted awake through a haze of agony, my trembling fingers swiped open Instagram. I saw Evelyn’s latest post: “I knew that no matter the distance or the time, Damian would move heaven and earth to reach me. He even brought his Chief Physician just to help me heal from my grief.” In the accompanying photo, Damian—a man known for his cold, lethal eyes—was gazing at the woman beside him with a tenderness I hadn't seen in years. While I was clawing my way back from the brink of death, fighting to save our child, my husband was playing protector to another pregnant woman. A hollow, self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. Without a second thought, I slid the wedding band off my ring finger. I opened my inbox and hit "Confirm" on the invitation from the world’s most elite International Finance Institute. If Evelyn is all he cares about, I’ll give them my blessing. In seven days, I will vanish from his world forever—and I’m taking my baby with me.

I am Elias Vance, and my life is a well-oiled lie. I don’t build empires; I dismantle them. For years, I’ve served the shadowy organization known only as The Syndicate, trained to be their most effective weapon—a corporate ghost who infiltrates, exploits, and destroys. My latest target is Thorne Corp, a multi-billion-dollar tech conglomerate, and the man at its helm: Julian Thorne. Julian is everything I despise on principle: cold, impossibly wealthy, and guarded by a fortress of privilege. He is also the key to The Syndicate’s grand prize, and my mission is simple: get close, expose his vulnerabilities, and trigger a catastrophic failure that leaves Thorne Corp in ashes. The plan was airtight until I saw the cracks in his perfect facade. The closer I get, the more I realize the aloof CEO is carrying a burden heavier than his fortune—a legacy steeped in secrets and a profound, aching loneliness that mirrors my own. Every late night in his office, every accidental touch, every shared secret drags me deeper into the man I’m supposed to hate. The line between my duty and my desire doesn't just blur; it dissolves entirely. Now, The Syndicate is closing in, demanding the destruction I promised. I have access codes, damning information, and a clear shot to finish the mission. But completing it means condemning Julian and myself to a future where trust is impossible. To save him, I have to betray my masters. To save myself, I have to risk everything I know. In this game of corporate war, I am the obsidian proxy, caught between two powerful forces, and my only way out is a choice that will either end a dynasty or cost me my life.

Book two. Please read "Not All That Glitters" before "Not All Who Wander Are Lost."Christmas 2019 in Auburn brought with it a chance for new beginnings. Complicated relationships started to mend and different recoveries were being made. As far as Whitney York and Hollis Bogard were concerned, they knew every hardship they'd face from that point on would be easier since they had each other for support.Fast forward to May, five months later. While making the last minute preparations for she and Whitney's Christmas gift to New York for a week, Hollis gets some disheartening news. If that weren't bad enough, patching things up with her parents was turning out to be a long, winding road. Dalton's prolonged, stressful testimonies to ensure he gets more than a cash settlement from the wealthy prick who put him in a wheelchair after driving drunk is the last straw. As Hollis starts wrestling with her inner demons again, slipping downward is inevitable. Will she confide in Whitney, or risk relapsing?Since disowning her, Whitney stopped hearing from her perfect family altogether. While the lovers are wrapping up in New York, she suddenly comes face to face with Hollywood's latest headliner;Theresa, her famous sister, has died. Urged to attend the funeral, Whitney makes it clear she won't go without Hollis, the very person her parents blame for staying in Maine.Buckle in! Disclaimer: Strong mature content, graphic scenes, drug usage. 18+, please. This novel won’t be for you if you’re not comfortable with any of the above topics.2020 All Rights Reserved (you know how it goes) Please don't attempt to steal any part of my work.

My wife, Alisha West, has always been obsessively frugal. After marrying her, my single guilty pleasure became blowing money on luxury watches—almost like revenge for how absurdly tightfisted she was. By the time our daughter, Elyse Day, turned 7, she had inherited every bit of her mother’s penny-pinching nature. The two of them looked completely out of place in our sprawling mansion. And I loved it. I’d slip into my latest custom-tailored suits and watch them wince at my credit card statements, their expressions twisted in quiet pain. Until one day, lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This spendthrift idiot is still shopping? Doesn’t he know his wife’s company is about to go bankrupt?] [She’s been drained dry supporting this parasite. Her T-shirt collar is practically worn out from washing. Good thing the financially savvy male lead is about to show up and save her.] [Can’t wait for Alisha to file for divorce and kick this useless freeloader out. Let’s see how he survives fighting stray dogs for scraps under a bridge.] I slammed the limited-edition Richard Mille watch onto the table. Alisha, who was crouched on the floor breaking down delivery boxes for recycling, and Elyse, who was helping stomp them flat, both jumped in shock. A chill ran through me. I lunged forward, snatched the battered cardboard box from Elyse’s hands, and held it tightly against my chest. "No… no more buying. I’m returning this watch. "And these boxes… don’t sell them. I think we might need them someday… to lay out under a bridge when we’re sleeping outside…"

I'm Kate Bamford, and I'm an EA (Executive Assistant), and I've just started a new job with - quite honestly the most gorgeous man I've ever set eyes on. This is a shame because men - gorgeous, sexy, or otherwise are completely off my radar! I can blame my ex for that, he's a controlling, miserable PoS! Weeks of being told what I can and cannot do would drive anyone to murder. Oops! The less said about that the better. No, I didn't stick a knife in his black petrified heart, but I did cause him major humiliation, which, thinking about it might have been even worse. My big worry is I have a secret, and the last thing I need is for my ex or anyone else to find out. Nobody will rescue me if my secret gets out. I'm Darius Graves, CEO of Graves and Son. I have a big problem, it concerns my mother - a matriarchal socialite who lives 3,461 miles away from me in New York. It's not far enough! My 'dearest' mother thinks nothing of getting into her private jet and popping over to see me in London as if she's going to the corner shop for a pint of milk. The thing is, she wants me to get married, but only to a girl she chooses. There is not a snowball's chance in hell of this ever happening. No way. No how. My two best friends are always coming up with various solutions to this problem. i.e. Sell the bank, or keep the bank and work from home in Katmandu. However, their latest idea is a fake marriage. But to whom? I can only think of one person, and that is my new assistant. She's beautiful and thinking about her keeps me awake at night.

When Maya's world is turned upside down by a surprise pregnancy, she's forced to make a choice: marry the father, Elijah, a mysterious and powerful man with secrets of his own, or face the dangers that have been lurking in the shadows of her life. As Maya navigates the treacherous landscape of her new marriage, she begins to uncover the truth about Elijah's past and the reasons behind his proposal. But the more she learns, the more she realizes that Elijah might actually be the evil she has been running away from, all her life ... An evil that had already stole her heart. Will Maya be able to uncover the secrets that Elijah keeps, or will she become the latest casualty of his ruthless ambition? Dive into this gripping tale of love, power, and deception to find out. “What are you doing?” I asked, my body shaking in fright. “That's not me” he said, smirking. “They are here for you, Maya. Your past have finally caught up to you. You move one inch, your beloved best friend goes down for you… another innocent blood smeared on your dainty hands” he said smiling wickedly. Slowly I walked towards him. I couldn't let Tiffany go down for me. I couldn't let another innocent soul die for me. This was my fate. My happy ever after was all a fairy tale after all. I took the pen, signing my name across the thin black line. Tears went down my cheek, dripping on the contract, the ink smudged on the paper. I could feel his warmth spread over me, his nose trailed delicately on my ear, wet sparks over it. “Welcome to your hell, Astrid Grey” he said, my real name rolling out of his lips like a curse.

To ensure fairness, my daughter said that she would draw lots to choose whose family to spend the New Year’s with every year. However, for the past nine years, she had spent the New Year’s with her in-laws. The latest draw was no different. On New Year’s Eve, my daughter gave me specific instructions. “Mom, we’re spending the New Year’s with my in-laws. We’ve made a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in town. Please help me save some money. You can just make some food at home for your dinner.” Hence, on New Year’s Eve, I ate alone while watching TV at home. When I stood up, I accidentally knocked over the raffle box. All the lots inside the box had my daughter’s handwriting. The words ‘in-laws’ were clearly written on every single one of them. For the past ten years, the lots had been fake. My daughter was willingly spending the New Year’s celebration with her in-laws, and she had never once thought of spending it with me, her biological mother, who had spent so much money on her. At the same time, I got a notification on my phone. Her mother-in-law posted something on social media. [My daughter-in-law is so lovely. She bought me so many gifts and chose to spend the New Year’s with us. It’s as if she’s our own daughter!] They smiled brightly in the video. On the table were gifts that she bought using my retirement fund. I did not sleep for the whole night. The next morning, I called the bank. “Please remove all the auto-debit accounts from my retirement account.” From then on, I would only spend my money on myself.

Vincenzo Moretti was Stonehaven’s youngest financial titan— a tech mogul commanding a multibillion-dollar empire, gracing the covers of business magazines as a modern legend. But only a select few knew the truth: he was also the ruthless Don controlling the East Coast mafia. To him, wealth and power were mere chips in a game. And I? I was just another pawn used to stabilize a fragile family alliance. In our ten-year marriage, he slept with my friends, my coworkers… every single person I once trusted. Then one morning, as I took our one-month-old baby for a routine checkup, Sienna Newton, his latest mistress, ran me down with her car. The baby screamed endlessly. I begged her to take us to the hospital, and when Vincenzo arrived, he looked at me with cold disdain. “Isabella,” he sneered, “when did you learn to stage accidents? “Even if you died here, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” Then he took Sienna’s hand and walked away without a backward glance. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, the child in my arms had suffocated. Upon hearing the news, my mother suffered a heart attack. She didn’t survive. I slipped into a coma for two days. When I finally woke up, I found out that Vincenzo never visited. Instead, his father, Renato Moretti, the true king of the Moretti empire, stood by my bedside. I looked at him calmly and said, “Let me go. Whatever I owed your family, I’ve repaid in full with two lives.” Later, that same Don who had once looked down on me knelt before me, begging me to come home. But I was no longer the woman who waited, silent and broken, for his change of heart. I was the Don’s wife who turned away and never looked back.

Every time my husband, Dave Tarrett, spent the night at his ex Maggie Gorringe's place, he bought me another building. Two years into our marriage, I owned 285 commercial properties across the country. Which also meant Dave had screwed me over 285 times. After the deed to property number 286 landed in my hands, Maggie sent me another smug little video. "So what if Dave throws money at you? I'm the one who gets his body and his heart. You might be some international supermodel, but you still can't get your own husband into bed." I didn't bother arguing. Instead, I mailed her the newest Victoria's Secret set from my latest runway show. When Dave found out how "generous" I'd been, he rewarded me by taking me to some elite social event. During a party game, Maggie lost three rounds straight and got dared to lick whipped cream off some playboy's thigh. She grabbed a wine bottle, smashed it, and shoved the jagged edge against her neck. "Dave, I'm not letting anyone humiliate me like this!" Dave—usually cold as ice—instantly panicked. Then he turned to me. Of course he did. "It's just whipped cream," he said softly. "Do this for her. I swear I'll go home with you after." Everyone waited for me to lose it. But I stayed calm and agreed without a word. He didn't know this was the 287th time he'd hurt me. And I was done being his pet. Once I paid back the debt I owed him for saving my life, we'd be done for good.