Leah Call

“Uh, sir, maybe it's better for you to get dressed first?" Amy said. “No need, Ms. Brooke. I'm more comfortable this way.” Samuel smiled, pulling Amy's hand so her position was closer to him. “Besides, I won't need the towel for much longer.” Amy frowned to hear that. “What do you mean?” “Please, Ms. Brooke, ah, maybe I should call you Amy instead. After this, we will be more intimate. It will be awkward to call each other by our last name. Agree?” *** Amy Brooke (twenty years old), the eldest daughter of Brooke's family, has everything all women want: youth, beauty, wealth, and a great family. However, she will lose all in an event and changes her life immensely. Samuel Hoffner (thirty five years old), a billionaire, has everything all men want: great looks, wealth, popularity, and power. However, he is an anti-commitment guy. When they will meet each other and tie in a marriage contract, what will happen later? Can Amy make Samuel fall in love with her? Will their marriage survive or will it be only a short-term arrangement?

"If I can cheat, so can you. It’s an open marriage, babe. Get used to it." Those were the words my husband spat at me after I caught him with his third assistant this year. So, I took his advice. He thought he could break me. After ten years of his "open marriage" demands and revolving door of mistresses, I decided to play his game. So, I bought a man. A cold, nameless call boy to help me settle the score. I left $5,000 on the nightstand and slipped away before dawn, finally feeling even. Until I missed my period. Two hours after that, my husband dragged me to his firm's annual gala to meet the new CEO; the man who holds my husband's entire career in his hands. My heart stopped. Standing there in a $10,000 suit, looking like a lethal god, was my "call boy." Julian Vane isn't a sex worker. He’s the most powerful man in the state, my husband’s biggest rival, and... he’s the father of my baby.

I was pregnant. On my way to deliver documents to Tristan Goldberg, a flash flood struck. Desperate, I dialed his number, praying he’d answer. After a few rings, the call connected. But instead of Tristan, a woman’s voice answered. "Tristan, whose number is this? Do you want to answer it?" There was a brief pause, and then Tristan’s voice, cold and indifferent, cut through. "It’s just my maid. Ignore it. Hang up." And just like that, the call disconnected. Staring at the torrent rising around me, my pulse quickened. I texted him, begging for him to send a rescue team. Minutes passed as the waters climbed to my waist, churning and relentless. Then, a message from Tristan finally appeared. Tristan: [What kind of ridiculous story are you making up now?] Tristan: [Emily, do you think you're eighteen, playing these childish games? I want that document in my hands within thirty minutes, or we're getting divorced.] A surge of terror shot through me as I looked up, catching sight of a heavy branch snapping loose and crashing down. In an instant, everything went dark.

Diabla Leone is the oldest daughter of Gianni and Lorena Leone Don and Dona of the Leone mafia, Diabla was named for the hell she put her mother through during her birth and all that came before it. D as her friends call her wanted to be free of the strict Italian life her family lives up to so she did what any other Mafia princess would do. Right?

After three years of marriage, James Chancer’s high school sweetheart came back to town. The same day, Sarah Sanders found divorce papers on her desk from the man she'd given her heart to for the past three years. Outside the courthouse, James poured his heart out to his first love,"I never even touched her in all these years. It's always been you." That was the final straw for Sarah. Writing off their marriage as a complete waste, she dove back into her career and became more successful than ever. That's when everyone finally realized what James had thrown away - Mrs. Chancer wasn't just a pretty face, but a wealthy powerhouse. A true catch in every sense. Three months later, James called her in the dead of night, his voice thick with regret, "Sarah, I made a huge mistake..." All he heard was her drowsy voice, “Zac, who's calling?" The man beside her ended the call with a smile, pulling her closer for a kiss, "Just another spam call, babe."

As if it was not enough that she was getting married to a man she barely knows just to clear her parents bills, things turn worse when Sophia moves into her husband's mansion and starts hearing whispers of her name, and a plead for help. When she decides to brave up and follow the call, she finds, to her shock a very hot man in the dungeon. And OH..... He is her mate as well

Seraphina Blackwood discovered the truth on an ordinary Thursday. After years of predawn breakfasts and midnight work sessions, after countless school plays and bedtime stories, her eight year old son had chosen someone else to call family. The other woman had been there all along, slowly taking her place, Sera's husband equally complicit…while Sera was busy keeping their household afloat.

Caspian Lynch's wife has had enough of him being poor. She asks for a divorce on the night before his birthday mercilessly!"One day, when you and I meet again, open your eyes and see for yourself who I really am!"Who on earth is this delivery guy? Why do they call him "Lord Caspian"? It seems there's more to him that meets the eye!

Emma Blanton twists her ankle, and my fiance, Matthew Harrison, insists on becoming her personal chauffeur. When I voice my disapproval, he makes an even more outrageous decision. He moves Emma into my apartment at Bellemont District—the apartment I bought with my own money. He argues like he's the victim, "You're being selfish. She's injured, and living alone is too dangerous for her right now. I'm just being a decent human being. "And that place is sitting empty anyway. Having someone there helps with security." On the morning we were supposed to get our marriage certificate, he doesn't show up. I call, expecting apologies. Instead, I hear, "Emma had a fever this morning—101 Fahrenheit. I had to take her to urgent care. We can postpone getting the marriage certificate. Her health can't wait." To hell with postponing! I grab my phone and call David Rockefeller. "Do you want to marry me? Then get to City Hall. I'm serious—right now."

The admissions office calls and says my daughter's admission fee has been paid, asking when I'll come to handle enrollment. I'm completely stunned. My daughter, Natalie Steward, is top of her class. She's already guaranteed a spot in the city's best high school, Dream High School, with no admission fee required. Upon questioning my husband, Arnold Lewiston, he claims the admissions office must've made a mistake. He says, "I just wanted to surprise you, so I pulled some strings with the principal to get her into the accelerated track. You should talk to the teachers and make sure we get the best homeroom teacher so I can look good." As soon as I end the call, I slam the accelerator and head straight to the admissions office. On my way there, I call Lynn Warrens, my best friend who works in the State Department of Education. "Help me check under whose name Arnold paid the admission fee for his illegitimate child. I'm going to withdraw them from the school!" I say.