Mochi Mochi No Mi Mga Nobela at Kwento

I'm the only daughter of the Alpha King. My father's always been swamped with pack affairs, so I grew up in Howler, raised among the wolves there. The Alpha of Howler had two sons, and they were my shadows growing up. Logan was gentle and doting. Derek was wild and electric. They both pursued me, adored me, fought for my attention in ways that made every wolf in the pack green with envy. I thought I'd choose one of them as my mate someday. I really did. Then Rose showed up. She was beautiful. A gifted healer. Capable in ways I never was. When Derek came back wounded from a skirmish, Rose was the one stitching him up. When Logan got buried in pack business, Rose was right there beside him, sm

They grew up in a cult community that as a culture killed Russians, Bonnie, Donald and Dr. Markus are Russians. This is because 1000 years ago there was a war and before the war Russians used to oppress the black people so the black people rose up, some good Russians helped the black people rise up and for a time after the black people won the war and got into rule they made laws to stop the oppression and things got calmer and people were arrested for racism. One day, 1000 years later, a black ruler was dying so he gave his crown to his nephew who hated Russians and the nephew turned black people against the Russians and created a whole culture of hating the Russians, this started ten

By accident, I stumbled upon my husband's secret. There were cameras covering every corner of our house, but I stayed silent and pretended not to know about them. One day, I faked leaving home and hid in the closet, only to hear my husband fooling around with his mistress. Jared's breath was short from exertion. "Faster. We have less than 20 minutes before Vanessa gets back." His mistress giggled. "Relax. Her eyesight is terrible." Jared growled. "Shut up! Vanessa is my wife. Say another thing about her, and I'll throw you out!" What he didn't know was that my eyesight had been cured. My vision was as sharp as anyone else's. I stepped out of the closet with a choked sob and called my

Everyone in the social circle of Kingsford said I was nothing more than a lapdog raised by Charles Mankin. I was always at his beck and call. I did every filthy, ludicrous thing for him under the sun. When he street raced, I rode shotgun. When he drank himself senseless, I made him hangover soup. When he chased girls, I prepared protection for them. Over time, everyone knew: Charles had a dog who never ran, never bit back, no matter how hard he kicked. They all said I must be madly in love with him. Even Charles started to believe it. So he pushed further, more freely, more cruelly, crossing lines as if they never existed. Then came my twenty-fifth birthday. He, in a rare stroke of

I had been married to Jeremy Yeager for three years, and he had a strict rule. "We can't lend our money to outsiders. We help out during emergencies, but we don't support them endlessly. This is the bottom line." Thus, I begged him on my knees when my father needed 60,000 dollars for his gastric cancer surgery. He remained calm. "If we break this rule today, your entire family will be draining our bank account tomorrow. I have to be responsible for this family." I sold my dowry to raise the surgery fee and accepted that some boundaries needed to be kept in marriage. When Jeremy's childhood sweetheart, Celia Marten, returned to the country to start a business and her start-up funds were

I need to drive to and from work due to a change in my job scope. However, my father-in-law hoards my car and refuses to return it. My husband stands up for him. "How can you be so materialistic? So what if you have to take an electric scooter to work?" So, I sell the car. My husband points at me and snaps, "What right do you have to sell Dad's car?" I look at him calmly. "I've sold the one you drive too."

Shantal Harver dies with one painful truth in her heart: she loved the wrong man. Ullysis Ray Ford, the cold ruler of a billion-dollar empire, does not care if she lives. Shantal’s life ends in a car accident… and her story should end there. But it does not. Shantal wakes up one year earlier. She remembers everything, every lonely night, every cold look, and the moment she died. This time, she does not beg. She signs the divorce papers first, gives up the five percent company shares that could have protected her forever, and walks away like she was never his. But Ullysis does not let her go easily. The divorce is delayed. The empire shifts. People begin watching Shantal like she is a k

At an industry party, my award-winning actress wife lost a game. Instead of taking the drinking penalty, she chose to French kiss her childhood sweetheart for three minutes. By the end of it, both of them were flushed, and Mira Lane's blouse had been stripped down to nothing but a camisole. If there had not been other people in the room, I believe they would have taken that kiss even further. Julian Reed sent me the livestream himself. The next day, Mira came to my office to collect her monthly allowance. Instead, she found my office full of young, beautiful women, with one long-legged beauty sitting directly on my lap. She stomped her foot in anger. "Get these sluts out of here!" I s

The day before New Year's, my younger brother announced he was bringing his girlfriend home for dinner. Excited, I drove my new car to pick them up, taking my daughter along with me. However, as soon as his girlfriend got in the car, her face darkened. "Henry, you didn't tell me your sister was staying at your place—and with a kid!" she snapped. I frowned and was about to explain when my brother quickly interjected, "She's not staying. After dropping us off, she'll be heading to a hotel." Only then did his girlfriend's expression ease. I swallowed my discomfort and asked my brother what he was planning. He leaned in with a conspiratorial grin and said, "Sis, don't cause any trouble for

Lavish London mansions. A hand-painted Rolls-Royce. And eight dead friends. For the British fixer Robbie Chase, working for the Russian's President most vocal critic meant stunning perks – but also constant danger. His gruesome death is one of 14 that retired British Agent QUINTUS NOONE has linked to Russia – but the UK police shut down every last case. QUINTUS NOONE'S investigation reveals the full story of a ring of death on British soil that the government has ignored.