Long Time No See

23-year-old Megan Spencer is on the brink of giving up on love after her break up with her fifth ex-boyfriend. That was the plan- until she met Mr. Flamin’ Hot Cheetos after entering his car uninvited. And worse? He’s literally one hallway away from her apartment unit.What about plan B, though? Nope, there isn’t any.

Mikel Rysdale needed an escape after a devastating blow to her heart and lifestyle. The number of people she can trust can be counted on one hand. Escaping to the one place she was free, she finds the most unlikely person to lean on. In his eyes, he was a broken man incapable of rejoining society. Army Veteran Killian returns home to live on his family's land in peace. Happy to see his sister again, he wasn't prepared to welcome a guest. What started as a tolerable relationship, the two found the need to be there for each other. Old wounds are hard to heal especially the ones in your heart. “Who are you?” His question was meant to be gentle but they came out as an angry ogre. She laughed at his question. The first chord of that sweet laugh was now trapped in Killian's mind and heart. Slowly she stood up and walked towards him. She was within four steps of him and her scent was intoxicating. Vanilla and the scent of fruit he had to know of. Up close she was perfection in his eyes. Unconsciously he stepped forward wanting to be close to her for some reason. The pain, the memories none of it was on his mind. His sole focus was on her. “Name's Mikel Rysdale. You can call me Mik for short.”

Married to Jasper Brook for six years, I found out that he was keeping a mistress under his wing. She was stunning but timid, shrinking back at the slightest raised voice. Because of this, Jasper never lost his temper around her. He indulged her fragility and treated her preciously. However, the mistress wasn’t as obedient as she appeared. When she stirred up trouble with me, Jasper’s patience snapped, and he unleashed his fury on her. The next day, she sent me a photo of her neck covered in hickeys. “Selena, Mr. Brook is so scary. I’m terrified.”

I, Ginny Tremaine, have a written agreement in my mate contract with Tyler Kingsley, the chairman of the Werewolf Council. As long as I proposed to him 99 times first, he promised to personally show up at the Office of Werewolf Mate Affairs on the 100th time and complete our marking ceremony. However, Tyler doesn't show up on the promised day and instead appears on the main stage of the Silvernight Music Festival with his lover, Vivian Lowe. In the livestream watched by the entire pack, he leans down and kisses her so intimately that it's practically a declaration of ownership. The social media networks instantly erupt with excitement. "#ChairmanOfTheWerewolfCouncilOfficiallyRevealsMate." "Chairman of the Werewolf Council caught kissing his lover and showing PDA." At the same time, I become a trending search for standing in front of the Mate Affairs office for the 100th time. Everyone speculates about the identity of the mystery man who never showed up and wonders if I will try for a 101st proposal. Tyler, likely feeling guilty, promises me the next day, "Next time, I promise I'll be there on time." He arrives in a crisp suit with papers in hand, standing outside the Mate Affairs office. But all he receives is a short message from me, saying, "Alpha Tyler, there won't be a 101st proposal. We're truly over."

Thor and I grew up together—we were the definition of childhood sweethearts. We'd promised to attend the same university, graduate, and marry right after senior year. Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match, destined for a lifetime together. And I believed that too. I truly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. Until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina joined our class. At first, the two barely spoke. But as they grew familiar, their bond deepened in ways I could no longer ignore. He started staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for a drive along the coast. If she craved Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd quietly prepare everything she needed. I was furious. I confronted him, argued with him, and even threatened to break up. The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and coaxed me out of my anger. The second time, he dismissed it as another tantrum and tried different ways to please me. The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house in the pouring rain all night, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness. Again and again, I tried to leave, and every time, he refused to let me go. Yet with each reconciliation, something in him shifted. He started taking me for granted, assuming I would always come back. His patience wore thin. His apologies turned perfunctory. Even when he came to make peace, there was no sincerity left in his voice. So I said it for the hundredth time, and that was the last. That was the moment I finally gave up on him.

Our third anniversary trip to Hawaii was supposed to be a new beginning—just me, Tom, and our son. But then she showed up. Blair. Our single, sexy neighbor with a killer smile and a suitcase full of charm. I thought she was just tagging along. I was wrong. One night, I overheard her hiss, “Why the hell didn’t you just let her die?” That’s when it hit me—Blair wasn’t just having an affair with my husband. She had planned to let me drown in the tsunami. I survived. But I kept quiet. I decided to play dumb—to smile, to act fragile, to stay close—for my son’s sake. I needed to know what they really wanted… and how far they’d go. Then, on my son Noah’s birthday, he made a wish. “I want Aunty Blair to be my new mommy.” The candles flickered. My heart cracked. Had Blair already replaced me?

Fiona had been acting as a stand-in lover for five long years, veiling her true power and presenting herself as meek and obedient, tirelessly tending to Darwin's every need, only to be taken for granted. But then news arrived of Darwin's impending marriage to a wealthy heiress. No longer willing to play the role of the submissive substitute, Fiona swiftly cut ties with the scoundrel, concealing her pregnancy, and fleeing. Five years later, she had undergone an astounding transformation, emerging as the heiress to a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate, earning the title of the investment banking goddess, esteemed by all in the sectors of finance. When they finally met again, the one who had searched desperately for five years, losing their sanity in the process, discarded all dignity and pride, humbly beseeching, "Please, do not reject me..."

In eight years together, my boyfriend—Shayne Raffield—blocked me eighty-eight times. This time? Because I missed his call. At my best friend's birthday party. Usually, I'd panic-order a gift, then stand outside his office, head down, ready to beg. But today? I blocked him first. The Chat Feed popped up, loud as ever: [Nooo, Ley-Bae, don't block Shay-Shay! He's just got abandonment issues. Comfort him!] [Shay's heart = shattered; Eyes = red. Ley, go! One pout and he's yours again!] Then Shayne called. Didn't say a word. Just breathed for ten seconds and hung up. The Chat Feed freaked out. [AHHHH SHAY LOVES LEY SO MUCH HE JUST SUCKS AT SAYING IT. THIS COWARD'S GONNA LOSE HIS GIRL.]

In high school, Ivy Monroe was the quiet nerd no one noticed—except when they were laughing at her. And Liam Calloway? He led the laughter. Now Ivy’s all grown up—famous, flawless, and filthy rich. She’s the CEO of her own luxury fashion brand, and she’s never looked back... until her father drops a bomb, “You’re getting married. To him.” That’s right. Liam freaking Calloway. The arrogant golden boy who once humiliated her in front of the entire school is now the heir to a crumbling empire. And the only way to save both their families is to tie the knot. Ivy agrees, but with rules. No touching. No feelings. And definitely no falling in love. But Liam isn’t the same boy from high school. He’s hotter, cockier, and way too determined to make their fake marriage feel a little too real. Let the games begin. Because this time, she’s the one holding the power. And he has no idea what he’s up against.

"You're no daughter of this pack," my mother hissed, her golden eyes flashing in the firelight. "If you can't support your Alpha sister, then get out." I should have seen it coming. In the Ashveil Pack, family means everything—unless you're me. Vera Darkthorne, the disappointment. While my perfect sister Eris got the love, the title, even my mate Cain, I got a mating ceremony where nobody showed up. Not even the man who swore he'd always be mine. That night, I ran. Now I've built a new life in Berlin's underground werewolf syndicate, where strength is the only law that matters. I've learned to fight, to lead, to make wolves twice my size back down with just a look. But when a message comes that Eris's dying, the pack demands my return. "Come home, Vera," my father's voice crackles through the phone. "Your sister needs you." I almost laugh. After everything? But this time, I'm not the weak wolf they left behind. This time, I have fangs of my own. And when wolves hunt you down, you don't run—you rip their throats out first.