Monica Shameless Thanksgiving

My wife, Sarah, died unexpectedly. My in-laws made an absurd request. "Why not have Stella play both roles? After all, Luke can't be without a mother." My brother-in-law, Greg, yelled at me, calling me shameless, and stormed out in anger. I looked at my sister-in-law, Stella, who looked exactly like my late wife. I could hardly conceal my grief. I was about to urge them to abandon their ridiculous idea, when I accidentally overheard a conversation between her and her parents. "It was Stella who died, so why did you lie and claim it was you?" Sarah sighed. "I love Greg. I staged my death so I could be with him legitimately. As for asking me to play both roles, don't even bring it up again. As for Michael, I have already given him a child and a respectable marriage. I owe him nothing." Turning around, I saw Luke with reddened eyes, asking me softly, "Daddy, does that mean that Mommy no longer wants us?" I bent down and pulled him into my arms, forcing myself to soothe him. "Your Aunt Stella wants to protect the person that she loves. We shouldn't bother her. It's time for us to prepare a new life."

On our anniversary, my husband, James Marshall, purchased a painting as a gift for me with my secondary credit card. When I got home, I went to my study to retrieve an urgent court document. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, I could hear the flirtatious voice of my assistant, Julie Summers, mingled with my husband’s low murmurs. “James, your wife is just a money-printing machine. What does she know about art? She could never appreciate you like I do.” James sighed. Then, in an indulgent tone, he said, “Claire is too perfect—so perfect it’s suffocating. Not like you, full of life and warmth.” Just then, my mother-in-law, Susan Marshall, called James. He put her on speakerphone. “James, you need to move faster. While Claire still trusts you, turn all her client contacts into yours. That Julie girl seems promising. She’s much easier to control than that iron-fisted career wife of yours.” I gripped the cold doorknob, listening to the pair of shameless lovers in the study and the wretched woman on the phone, and immediately drafted a divorce agreement. At the same time, I forwarded asset-protection filings for all my holdings to my legal team. “I’ll see you all in court, parasites.”

Rated 18 Read at your own risk Walang ibang nais si Monica kundi ang makaahon sa hirap at buhayin ang kaniyang isang anak na lalaki, na bunga ng one-night stand sa isang estranghero. Kahit anong trabaho pinapasok niya maging ito ay kapit sa patalim. Pinatos niya ang trabaho bilang ispiya ng mafia organization. Subalit sinubok ang kaniyang prinsipyo nang makilala si Federico Sartorre, ang mafia boss na unang target na ibinigay ng kaniyang amo. Si Federico ay isa sa miyembro ng pinakamalaking mafia organization, ang Cosa El Gamma. Bukod sa pamilyar ito sa kaniya at hawig ng kaniyang anak, nakitaan niya ito ng tattoo na katulad sa lalaking nakaniig niya noon sa isang bar sa Japan. Habang nasa puder siya ni Federico bilang maid, hindi lamang trabaho ang kaniyang pakay, kundi ang tuklasin ang misteryo sa pagkatao nito. Ngunit mabilis nahulog ang puso niya sa binata at nag-assume na ito ang ama ng kaniyang anak. Paano kung si Federico nga ang tatay ng kaniyang anak? Susuwayin ba niya ang misyon at piliin ang sigaw ng puso?

When news of my arranged fiancee's death arrived, I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I quickly reclaimed her shares and had the death certificate issued. I did it because I've been reborn. In my past life, Dad was worried that women would eye my fortune as the heir to the wealthiest family. So, he arranged for me to marry one of three women he personally picked. I chose the most outstanding one, Monica Harris, and married her. However, just three days after our wedding, she died suddenly. Heartbroken, I was persuaded by the remaining two women to give up on marriage and remain single for life. At 80 years old, when I returned to our special place in Sunmere Valley to reminisce, I saw Monica. She should have been dead for 60 years! She stood beside Liam Rogers, my driver who'd gone missing decades ago, surrounded by their children and grandchildren, living a picture-perfect life. I realized I'd been deceived my entire life. The shock sent my blood pressure soaring, and I died of a stroke on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the day I died. This time, I'm going to find out exactly how someone who's supposedly dead keeps on living.

While I was driving my bus, I spotted my boyfriend's car ahead. He was kissing the woman he had always been hung up on. I could not help tapping the horn. That was all it took. He and his dream girl stepped out and blocked my bus in the middle of the road. I glanced at the passengers behind me. I could not afford to delay everyone, so I swallowed my pride and asked him to move his car. She lifted her chin, her voice dripping with arrogance. “Not happening. Unless you get off that bus and apologize to me right here, you're not going anywhere.” Traffic was completely jammed. There was no way forward and no way back. My face went pale, but I had no choice except to lower my head and prepare to apologize. My boyfriend grew impatient. "Why are you still standing there? Get down and apologize to Sally. Right now." Humiliated, I inched my way towards the door. However, the doors unexpectedly swung open and the passengers rushed out of the bus. “Do you think we have time for this? I'm already late for school. Are you going to take responsibility?” “My perfect attendance this month is ruined because of you. You two are unbelievable!” “If you shameless idiots want to act like this, don't blame us for getting physical!”

The day my mom was beaten up for being a mistress, I slammed the family crest into my dad’s face. I had been studying abroad, and on my return flight, I came across a video. The title read, [Richest Family’s Heirs Defend Their Mom and Beat Up Mistress.] In the video, my mother was wearing coarse linen clothes while my brothers surrounded her. They were punching and kicking her. They even tore her clothes and cussed her out as a shameless mistress. Her eyes were teary as she desperately tried to explain. However, she was only met with mocking laughter. A stranger in haute couture stood shielded behind them, and she sweetly said, “Alright, I know you’re doing this for me, but we don’t need to waste our time on ungrateful people.” The surrounding guests showered her with birthday wishes and praised her for her graciousness. “This is the grace befitting Mrs. Roth! Do some people really not own a mirror at home?” “A mistress dares to call herself Mrs. Roth? Doesn’t she know the entire Roth family was built on her assets? Which part of her looks like a lady?” Hearing them call her “Mrs. Roth,” I clenched my phone, and the screen reflected my icy expression. I had only been away from home for three years. How did I not know that I had acquired such a despicable “mother”?

Tessa Sterling's life was never Meant to be this complicated. Once the daughter of privilege, she now works double shifts to keep her little sister in school after her stepmother seized control of her late mother's inheritance. When her sister begged her to pick her up from a celebrity concert, Tessa expects nothing but chaos. Instead, she runs into Kingsley Voss–international superstar, billionaire CEO, a global icon and every woman's fantasy. But Kingsley is not what the camera show. Behind his fame hides a secret that could destroy his career–a daughter, whose existence no one must ever know. When fate throws Tessa into his world again, this time as a potential nanny, sparks fly and tempers flare, she loathes his arrogance, his charm, his shameless flirting–but she can't resist the bond she forms with his daughter. Kingsley is torn between protecting his secret and protecting the woman who's turning his world upside down. But the closer Tessa gets to his daughter...the closer she gets to uncovering the secret he's sworn to hide. And when love collides with lies, someone's heart will have to pay the price. Behind every secrets lies a forbidden truth– and behind every man like Kingsley Voss, a woman strong enough to bring him to his knees.

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.

This isn’t just a book. It’s a slow, wet slide into sin. A scorching collection of interconnected erotic short stories so raw, so twisted, and so dangerously addictive they’ll leave your thighs clenched, your pulse racing, and your sheets soaked. Forget sweet romance. Here, ruthless, possessive alphas clash with vengeful, cock-hungry women in savage, sweat-drenched encounters where every moan drips with betrayal and every orgasm comes laced with venom. Every filthy kiss is a weapon. Every brutal thrust hides a blade. Every shattering, screaming climax rips open another deadly secret. Revenge has never tasted this fucking delicious. Each standalone story slams you with intense, no-holds-barred sex rough, dripping, and shameless packed with shocking twists, dark emotional wreckage, and brutal cliffhangers that will leave you aching and desperate for more. Power play. Twisted second chances. Forbidden, dripping lust. Obsessive, dangerous possession. These stories rip the mask off the filthiest, most depraved fantasies you’ve ever tried to bury. Sensual. Filthy. Wickedly addictive. If you’ve ever craved the kind of dirty, immoral, pulse-pounding pleasure most people are too scared to even whisper about… welcome home. Warning: This collection is strictly for mature audiences (18+) only. It contains extremely explicit sexual content, graphic dirty talk, dominance and submission, rough power exchange, betrayal, revenge, and deliciously dark, morally fucked-up themes. Proceed if you dare.⚠️‼️

Five years ago, I lost my memory in a car accident. Eira Jones had claimed she was my beloved. She saved me, cared for me, and we naturally got married. For five years, I managed every aspect of our home for her. As I tended to her every need with unwavering devotion, I was convinced I was the happiest husband in the world. But as I was about to tidy up the study, I overheard Eira and her childhood sweetheart talking. “Eira, these past five years, Vedran Clarus has been utterly devoted to you. He just hasn’t chewed your food for you! I’m getting jealous.” Eira kissed his cheek affectionately. “Silly boy, those chores are his responsibility. I’d never let you do them.” Furious, I burst through the door and accused Reed Harris of being a shameless homewrecker. But to my shock, he showed his marriage certificate to Eira. He declared that I was the third wheel in their relationship. As we shoved each other about, my head slammed into the bookshelf, and my memories returned. Apparently, I was the sole heir to the city’s wealthiest, the Grant family. I watched as Eira ranted accusations at me, and the fair-faced, pretty boy in her arms feigned hurt. I turned and dialed my childhood sweetheart’s number. “Elena Gibson, your fiance is being bullied!”