Maeve Glass Novels & Stories

I give up on my position as a higher-up in a listed company just so I can accompany my wife, Jennifer Hurley, to a rural area to carry out a cultural tourism project. I even help her secure subsidies from the government and transform that project into a state-recognized exemplary project. But the first thing Jennifer does right after becoming the main person in charge of the project is force me to quit. "I want to tender an application for this project to be recognized nationally. Unfortunately, as the main person in charge, my spouse isn't allowed to take on any roles in the business aspect. "Either you quit your job or get divorced. You should make your choice." I don't hesitate to quit my job on the spot. But after that, Jennifer has her assistant, Maurice Gould, take over my position immediately. Her reasoning is, "Young people know more about coming up with creative ways to promote cultural projects. Our project needs new blood." At the afterparty, Jennifer raises her wine glass and gives a grand speech on the project's success. It turns out that I'm the only one who gets kicked out after everything I've done.

Olivia’s POV The moment Armando left, the dam broke. I sobbed into the silence, my chest heaving with the weight of everything I’d pushed down for so long. I wanted to hold him tight. To kiss him and to tell him how much I loved him and how much I wanted his protection but I just couldn’t because I didn’t trust anyone else and because I never wanted anything to do with love after James. I hated myself for pushing him away. But more than that, I hated that I felt anything for him at all. I sat there, drowning in the storm of my own heart, knowing that love was a battlefield I might never cross again, and yet, for the first time, I wished I had the courage to try. Armando’s POV Back in my study, I poured myself a glass of whiskey, my hand trembling as I lit a cigarette. The tears came slowly at first, hot and unfamiliar against my skin. I hadn’t cried since I was ten years old. But tonight, I wept. For her. For me. For everything we could never be.

In the fifth month of my pregnancy, my husband brought back his first love, who was eight months pregnant and causing a stir about getting a divorce. I politely told him that pregnant women would influence each other, which wasn’t good for the child. Alex, however, smashed a water glass and said in disgust, "Sarah is depressed because of the divorce, and the only one she can rely on is me! Do you want her to die?" I felt nauseous and vomited, unable to sleep through the night, and my health worsened with each passing day. To make her happy, he filled the house with lilies. But he had forgotten that I was allergic to lilies and locked me in the room, saying, "Let’s see if you can get an allergic reaction if you can’t smell the lilies." I bled continuously, desperately calling him for help for both myself and the child, but he simply said that I was still early in the pregnancy and there wouldn’t be any problems. When the fetal movements stopped, I had completely given up. It was at that moment that he frantically pushed open the door.

At my wedding, the giant screen that's supposed to show our photos suddenly switches to the groom's assistant's prenatal exam report. It clearly shows that he is the child's father. The assistant looks flustered and panicked as she rushes to apologize to me. The groom, on the other hand, stays perfectly calm and offers an explanation like it's no big deal. "I took pity on her because she got pregnant out of wedlock, so I went with her to the appointment and left my name. I'm going to be her kid's godfather, too." The day of her exam was also the day I went for my very first prenatal checkup. Everyone thinks I'll break down, but I simply reach up and tear off my veil. Then, I calmly schedule an abortion. "She really is pitiful, being pregnant without a partner by her side. She deserves this wedding more than I do." Then, I raise my champagne glass to congratulate him. "Congratulations to you both. May your shotgun wedding be a happy one, especially since it's happening with a bun in the oven."

Blurb: A retelling of Cinderella, with a twist. Her Prince never met her at a ball, but in a bike crash, when she tried to escape years of abuse. She was never the beauty in a glass slipper, but a wolfless girl born from an Alpha’s line. He was not a Prince Charming. Not a saviour. Just a Don from a line of ruthless Rogue Alphas, and heir to a fearsome security company the packs could not mess with. Yet Donna-Belle accepted whatever life threw at her when she wound up under his protection and had to sign a contract that promised his protection and her cooperation. As long as she had a way to get back her inheritance and fight her stepfamily, she did not mind getting entangled with danger and mixed signals. Being the Don’s ‘personal heiress’ was not a day’s job, but Donna was determined to raise her company to greater heights and get back at her abusive stepfamily. Even if she played with a volcano yet to erupt, she was set on breaking away her fears and insecurities and stepping up for herself. He never believed in the old myth of mates. She never wanted to be entrapped by him. They both never got what they wanted. Fate decided.

For my birthday, I got a gift box. Inside was a dead silver fox. Its fur was peeled away. Dark, profane runes were carved into its flesh. My wolf cried out in agony, then shattered. I desperately reached for my Alpha, Darian, through our mate bond. “Darian… help me… My wolf… my heart…” His response was ice cold. “Maeve, stop being so dramatic. It’s just a prank. A Luna should be stronger than this. Amara has a fever. I’m with her.” He just cut the bond. He chose his childhood friend over me. Her mate had recently died, and she only had a low-grade fever. I was left to collapse in agony. I didn't get help until a pack beta found me and rushed me to the medical center. It took me three whole days to recover. When Darian finally came back, reeking of Amara’s sweet perfume, he sneered at me. "I knew you were faking it. How could a dead fox hurt you? You just wanted to stop me from comforting her!" I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just handed him a document to sign. Compensation, I said, for choosing Amara over me. He signed it without even looking. "Is this about money? Don't be another jealous she-wolf. Don't cause trouble for me. I can give you anything. Amara and I grew up together. She's important to me. You know that." I just nodded. I didn't say a word. The next day, he took Amara to an Alpha-only alliance dinner. Pictures were all over the werewolf social feeds. He had no idea what he’d signed. It wasn’t a compensation agreement. It was a rejection of our mate bond. I counted down the three days. I calmly packed my most precious things. Then, I pulled out my burner phone. “Uncle Marcus? I need a private jet to the South.”

"No stop. We should not be doing this. You are Noah's brother and my boss" Esme murmured and tried to push Leo away. But he didn't budge. He pinned her to the glass wall in his office and started kissing her. Her protests drowned with his kiss. ....... Esme stood on the Altar alone, waiting for the groom who dissappeared. Standing alone on the Altar on her big day should have been devastating. That too when the groom was her best friend of fifteen years and fiance of four years. She should have seen this coming. And she should be a crying mess. But she is not. Strangely, she is feeling relieved. Her gaze fixed on Leo Ashford, her Fiance's elder brother. The wrong brother she fell for. The brother she shouldn't be thinking about. The brother who is off limits. The last man to whom she shouldn't have lost her virginity to. 'I promise Esme, I will cherish you this time' she remembered Noah's promise from just a few hours ago. She felt bitter, because he couldn't even hold his promise for even a day.

"In this pack, you aren't a guest. You're a trophy. And Alphas don't share their toys." Victor Cruz was a ghost. A premier dancer in a glass cage, hiding a lineage that could set the supernatural underworld on fire. When the Vargas brothers—the twin Alphas ruling the desert’s most brutal pack—offer him a seven-figure contract to be their "property," he takes it. It’s supposed to be a job: play the part, survive the heat, and disappear. Mateo Vargas is the charm—the silver-tongued predator who marks Victor with a scent so thick it screams mine to every wolf in the city. Alejandro Vargas is the blade—the cold, suspicious enforcer who wants to break Victor just to see what’s hiding underneath. One wants to worship him; the other wants to expose him. The Pack is hungry. But as the Vargas brothers pull Victor into a high-stakes world of blood-vows, ancient rivalries, and the looming threat of the Dragunov hunters, the lines of the contract begin to bleed. Victor isn't just a dancer anymore. He's a pawn in a war between Alphas, and the scent he’s carrying might just be the death of them all. In a world where loyalty is bought in gold and dominance is taken in blood, Victor must decide: will he run from the wolves, or will he learn to lead the pack?

The night before my fiancé, Soren, and I were supposed to leave for Northern Europe to start our new life, the sounds of a lively discussion drifted from his private club. "Christ, Boss, are you insane? Why the sudden marriage alliance with the Rosetti family to make a play for Italy? Didn't you say you were getting out of the life with Abby and heading north?" Soren leaned back into a leather sofa, his voice nonchalant and muffled by a cloud of smoke. "Plans change. Besides, remember, I'm the one who made her who she is." "Once she sees the new empire I'm building, that little canary will come flying right back to my cage. The woman can't live without me." I stood in the shadows of the club, a wine glass in my hand, a dull ache blooming in my chest. The anniversary gift I had so carefully chosen for Soren was still in my purse, waiting for me to give it to him. I slipped out of the smoke-filled club, tossed the gift into the nearest trash can, and booked a one-way ticket to Northern Europe. But what he didn't know was that just as he could betray our future for Monica, I could abandon him for mine. All those years we spent dancing with death were never just for his sake.

On the night of Christmas Eve, Finn Shore, my boyfriend of three years, has invited me to his place for an official family dinner. As soon as I sit down and drink a glass of water, I collapse immediately. It turns out that Finn has drugged the water. "I'm sorry, Rosaline. If I don't cough up the payment, they'll throw me behind bars. My debtor is already targeting me, so please help me out. "Don't blame me for this, Rosaline. You only have your own face to blame—after all, you look so similar to the woman Mr. Olson is deeply in love with! Hell, you two look far too similar! "Once I clear my debt, I'll be free! Who knows? You might be able to live a lavish life with Mr. Olson as your lover! Isn't this a win-win situation for us?" I end up getting delivered to an insanely familiar estate. When I open my eyes groggily, I notice my surroundings. Isn't this Uncle Wesley's home? My uncle, Wesley Olson, has never fallen for any woman except my mom. In fact, she's his weakness. To think that Finn actually brought me here… I wonder who's the unlucky one in this situation.