Lock-free Data Structures Novels & Stories

After being Nelson Jackson’s devoted simp for five years, Sarah Paterson became pregnant. Just as she was excitedly waiting for him to propose, Nelson had a change of heart when his high school sweetheart returned from studying abroad. Sarah didn't fight to keep the relationship. Instead, she went straight to the hospital, had an abortion, and immediately agreed to the arranged marriage her family had set up with a business partner's son. But Nelson came to regret his decision. He begged Sarah to keep his child, but she only gave him two words in response. "Too late."

"You’re mine, Emery. You always have been." Emery Hart is a lawyer, famous for crafting the perfect prenup agreement for couples. But her most frustrating client? The one and only billionaire, Darren Blackwood, her ex-husband. Every time he gets engaged, he hires her to draft the contract, only for the relationship to crash and burn. Emery tells herself it’s just business, but deep down, she knows the truth, Darren is still playing with her. When another prenup lands on her desk, she assumes it's just another fiancée. But Darren corners her, his voice low and possessive. "Did you even read it, sweetheart? This contract… it’s for you." Trapped in his games, Emery confronts the past she’s been running from. Because Darren never stopped wanting her and this time, he won’t let her go.

“Do not let her touch you ever again.” “Why not? She’s my…girlfriend. You’re just my sneaky link cellie.” The rage in Jordan’s eyes is volcanic and terrifying. He takes a step closer, voice dropping to a threat disguised as a promise. “Try me, Preppy… and I swear I’ll kiss you in front of every guard, every inmate, every pair of judging eyes in this hellhole. Then we'll see who you truly belong to.” Quincy Laurent—alias, richie rich—had the kind of life people envy. He's got a future paved in gold. One mistake shattered it all. Now he’s Blackbridge’s prettiest, trapped in the same cell with Blackbridge's most chaotic, Jordan Vex. Jordan is everything Quincy is not. inked, dangerous, magnetic, a walking storm with eyes that see right through the armor Quincy didn’t know he still had. They clash instantly. Quincy hates the chaos Jordan embodies… and hates even more how drawn he is to it. While the prison changes him, Jordan ruins him. And the desire he believes is a fantasy is tested when he finally learns who Jordan is.

My mate, Alpha Ryan, started skipping my healer's appointments after I got pregnant. He always blamed pack business. But I found him at the clinic anyway. He was with another pregnant she-wolf—his childhood friend, Bonnie. He held her with a tenderness he no longer gave me. "I'll take responsibility for this child," he promised her. "He'll be safe." His words shattered my world. Their child? I stormed in to confront them and saw it: his temporary mark on her neck. He swore the pup wasn't his. He claimed a rogue attacked her and the mark was only for protection. His lie was a knife twisting in our mate bond. I was carrying his pure-blooded heir. But he let the pack brand my child a bastard, while hailing her half-blood pup as his true heir. To protect Bonnie, he locked me in a silver-laced cell. The silver was a living death. He didn't realize his mistake until I took the forbidden herbs, sacrificing our child and collapsing in a pool of my own blood. Only then did he cradle my broken body, begging for a forgiveness I would never give.

For six years of marriage, Cyran Valehart and I lived with measured respect, as if we were partners holding the same scale in perfect balance. For the sake of my equestrian career, I refused to have children. He shouldered the gossip, endured the judgment, and stood beside me without hesitation. But when I rode into what should have been my final international competition, he went back home with his first love—her hand resting protectively over her swollen belly. "All these years, you chose the horses over me," he spat. "That damned competition meant more to you than our family ever did." His voice shook with righteous anger, but his next words cut far deeper. "Six years ago, I abandoned Celia once. Now she carries my child. I won't betray her again." In that instant, my marriage became nothing but a title. I was reduced to a wife in name only, a figurehead in his home, a shadow he no longer cared to see. During the very competition meant to crown my life's work, Cyran laced a sharp needle beneath my saddle, each stride of my horse a fresh stab of pain meant to break us both. I lost the match. My horse collapsed with a shattered leg. And in that fall, my dream and my marriage were crushed together—ruined by the very man who once swore to protect them. Later, he paid with everything he had, desperate to make amends. But no matter what he sacrificed, Cyran Valehart was already behind me, nothing more than a ghost I would never turn to face again.

When Ayden Baldwin ignored me, who was stuck in an elevator, freaking out from claustrophobia, just so he could deliver cold medicine to his assistant, I filed for divorce. Ayden signed his name without hesitation and smiled at his friend. "She's just throwing a tantrum. Her parents are gone. I'm all that she's left. She won't leave me. "Besides, isn't there a thirty-day cooling-off period? If she regrets it, I'll be the bigger person and take her back." The next day, he posted a lovey-dovey pic with his assistant, captioned: "Capturing every shy moment of yours." Counting the days, I packed up my belongings and made a phone call. "Uncle, please book me a ticket to Burville."

Cursed, mated, and in for the fight of their lives… Warlock Nate Hawthorne just wants a cup of coffee. Is that too much to ask? Apparently. Because instead of precious caffeine, all he gets is cursed by a pack of werewolves who want to use him for his magic. Now the only way to fix the damage is a mate bond to a grumpy and oh-so-sexy alpha in the rival pack, who happens to hate him. This is so not how he wanted to start his day. Ian Armitage never intended to take Nate as his mate. The Hawthorne family can’t be trusted. Ian knows that better than anyone. The fact that he’s lusted after the way-too-gorgeous man for years? Totally irrelevant. Ian’s just doing what is necessary to protect his pack. This whole mating arrangement has nothing to do with love and never will. That’s his story and he’s sticking to it. Nate and Ian will have to work together if they have any hope of staving off the pack’s enemies and averting disaster. That’s assuming they can stop arguing (and keep their hands off each other) long enough to save the day… The Alpha’s Warlock is an explicit M/M paranormal romance featuring a snarky warlock, a brooding alpha werewolf, knotting, enchanted socks (long story), and a guaranteed happily ever after. This series does not contain mpreg.

For both Hayley and Kenji's freedom and the things at risk, they had to tie the holy knot. Although they are now married, they still hate each other and there is one rule they made for themselves and that's to mind your own damn business. But could they mind their own businesses when they are living together and are partners of a heavenly crime called fake love.

My wife, Rosalie Lockwood, locks me up in a villa located in the suburbs for three days because I've forgotten to feed her first love's dog once. Unfortunately, the villa somehow gets set on fire. I call Rosalie for help and beg her to tell me where she's hidden the key. But she merely replies lightly, "Today is Caleb's birthday. Don't think about ruining this big day for us! Once Caleb's mood lightens up after we're done celebrating his birthday, I'll let you out." I try to save myself, but the water supply in the villa is already cut off. Soon, the signal goes out, too. I can only watch as I get surrounded by the ruthless inferno. Eventually, everything in the villa is reduced to ashes. Even when I'm burned to nothing but bones, help still never comes for me…

Soon after I came back to the country, someone slapped me right across the face in broad daylight, yelling that I was a mistress. A crowd of reporters closed in, pelting me with questions about whether Chandler Armstrong, CEO of Armstrong Industries, was keeping me as his mistress. I was stunned speechless for a moment, but then I pulled out my wedding photo with Chandler from seven years ago and held it up. "What are you talking about? I'm his wife!" The crowd went silent, and the woman who'd slapped me turned white as a sheet. Only then did I finally get it: while I'd been overseas, Chandler had been openly involved with an actress, and everyone in his social circle had already decided she was the future Mrs. Armstrong. Today, they all came expecting to confront a mistress—only to find out that I was actually his wife. Later, Chandler tried to justify it. "Alina, you've been out of the country for years. I'm a man, and I have needs. She's just a B-list actress; it's not like she threatens your position. Why should you be upset? Just let it go," he said. "Don't make a scene." I handed him the divorce papers. "You make me sick."