My Stepmom Is My Girlfriend Novels & Stories

We had been married for 24 years. Twenty-four years of what I thought was happy. He got everything he wanted. The house he chose. The truck he loved. The vacations he picked. I made sure life ran smoothly so he never had to question comfort. And apparently, comfort made him bored. That’s how I met Vincent. Not in person. On Tinder. Same smile. Same scar on his chin. Same wedding ring conveniently missing.

Oceana Daciana, who is arranged to marry the Alpha of her parents' closest friend's son, realises her brother is her mate as soon as she turns eighteen. She was shocked by this discovery after eight years of searching for him, knowing that she had harboured these heated forbidden feelings for her brother since she was a child. Gerard, Oceana's brother, returns home. But he doesn't desire her and pushes her away, knowing the dangers and ramifications of having Oceana as his mate. He must leave. He must locate a replacement for Oceana. Because their union is both prohibited and cursed.

Four years ago, Evan Brooks walked away from Ryan Hale, the boy who was his first love, his everything after catching him in what looked like a betrayal. Shattered and humiliated, Evan swore he’d never let Ryan close again but fate doesn’t care about promises. Now, their parents’ whirlwind marriage has made them stepbrothers. The boy Evan once loved and hated is suddenly living under the same roof, looking hotter, cockier, and more untouchable than ever. Evan tells himself he’s over it. He tells himself Ryan is his past but every stare feels like a dare. Every smirk is a reminder of the nights they once burned for each other. Ryan has his own secret, he never cheated. He’s been waiting for a second chance… even if it means breaking every rule in the book. And when the truth comes out, one question will remain— Was their love always doomed, or is the real danger finally giving in?

Ashly and Alex are best friends actually longtime friends. One of them is Alpha and one is omega. They are interns on their last year of medical school. And they are also part of same club. One of them has fallen for the other. Will he be able to finally confess his feelings? Ashly and Alex know, they can feel it. But again, they don't talk about this. Mating with your best friend is not good idea. Isn't? But They did. They confess to each other and even get mated but then things change. Ashly can feel her Alpha is cheating on her, she can feel with the help of their bond. Ashly tries hard to save their relationship but at least it didn't work, and she leave with pup inside her belly. They meet again 3 year's later, "The pup is mine." Alex said but Ashly glare to him. "No, he is not. He is only, so don't even try to come near him or I will drag you to court for cheating your own Omega." Alex knows the love between them already over but he wants his pup, no matter how. And we will do everything. Even if he needs to kill Ashly current mate.

Ash and Alex are best friends actually long time friends. One of them is Alpha and one is omega. They are interns on their last year of medical school. And they are also part of same club. One of them has fallen for the other. Will he be able to finally confess his feelings? Ash and Alex know, they can feel it. But again they don't talk about this. Mating with your bestfriend is not good idea. Isn't?

In the third year I've decided to support my girlfriend, Iris Fulton, by opening a flower shop, she has gone into bankruptcy once again. The first time she went bankrupt, I sold the house my grandma had left for me so that I could clear the debt of 700 thousand dollars. The second time she went bankrupt, I was able to locate the bank passbook Mom had left for me as a wedding gift. That was how I paid back one million and six hundred thousand dollars. The third time Iris has gone bankrupt, however, I can only grip the note with my filthy rich dad's phone number while staring at her lost and dazed expression. At that time, I'm debating whether or not I should call him. But that night, I accidentally notice the chat history on Iris' group chat that's displayed on her tablet. "Hey Iris, how many figures are you going to fill into the sum of the bankruptcy contract that's supposed to be cleared this time?" "Let's put ten million dollars. Otherwise, that flower-selling plaything will be able to clear the debt in one go. It'll make things very boring." "As expected of you, Iris! I heard that the plaything waters flowers in the morning and waters your 'flower garden' at night. You're never tired of him, are you?" I put down Iris' tablet before calling my dad right away. "You want me to take over the family business and marry your student, right? Fine, I'll do it. Get your men to pick me up in three days."

Herbie was subconsciously self-sabotaging his relationship with every famous, beautiful, successful girl he's been with. When the relationship seemed to be going well, he'd find one little detail that would be enough reason to break-up. It could be that she's too clingy or too busy, to the trivial ones like having long fingernails or having eyes that are too big or too small. That's because in that tiny little space in his heart he kept a secret. He's got this huge crush on his next-door neighbor for what seems like forever. For ten years they were neighbors, for ten years he was content just stealing glances. Not that he didn't know her. She's his ex-girlfriend's sister! On their tenth year as neighbors, he got elected as President and CEO of a multinational corporation at only 36 years old. He didn't want to move apartments but duty called.

I’d just wrapped up a short trip with my daughter, Elara. On the way back, I figured I’d swing by the Hale, our family’s casino, to check in on my son, Cassian. Maybe grab dinner together. I didn’t expect to be mistaken for his latest fling. Correction: not mistaken—accused. Violently. “You think you can just waltz in here like some queen?” she hissed. “I’m the woman Cassian loves! What kind of whore are you? And is this your bastard daughter with him?” She locked us in the basement. No phone. No light. Just concrete walls and the stench of mildew and madness. Then came the fists. She slapped me across the face—again and again—until my skin stung and my ears rang. When that didn’t satisfy her, she pulled a gun and aimed low. The bullet tore through my knee. I bit back a scream, shielding Elara with my body. “You need to die, whore,” she spat. One of her men hesitated, “We should at least tell Mr. Hale first. If we are going to kill these two in his casino.” Lila of course said no. But that man brought Cassian anyway. My son stepped into this dark little room like it was any other Tuesday—until he saw me. His whole body went still. The blood drained from his face. And then, in the smallest, most broken voice I’d ever heard from him, he whispered, “Mom? What are you doing in my basement?”

My brother Christopher owned a boutique on Fifth Avenue. I'd gone in, picked out a few pieces, grabbed a silk scarf on the way, and was heading for the door. The clerk behind the register stopped me. "Ma'am, we'll need you to settle this now." I looked up. Her name tag said Yvonne. Unfamiliar face. Probably new. I didn't think much of it. "Just put it on the owner's account," I said politely. "He knows who I am." She gave a little snort through her nose, eyes raking from my hair down to my shoes. "We don't run accounts here. You might have the wrong store." She pushed an itemized bill across the counter. Four hundred thousand dollars. I scanned the line items. Personal Style Consultation. Premium Fitting Service. VIP Client Private Service. Every single charge cost more than the clothes themselves. I let out a short laugh. "I'm a Whitfield. Christopher's my brother. Whatever this is, he can deal with it at home." Her smile got uglier. "Anyone can claim to be a Whitfield, sweetheart. Are you trying to skip out on the bill, or are you just trying to embarrass yourself?" I didn't bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and texted Christopher: [Fire the clerk named Yvonne in the next ten minutes, or I pull every dollar I have in this store.]

Elaine Foster loved to test my love for her. She faked a chronic illness and convinced me to donate blood for her 99 times. When it came for the 100th time, I was already severely anemic. I finally said no. She turned around and used the blood I had given her to make blood sausages for Karl Claflin’s dog. Karl was the most popular guy on campus. Curled up in Karl’s arms, she said to me, “Michael Messner, I was never sick. I only pretended to be, just to see if you really loved me. Unfortunately, you failed the final test. I’m very disappointed. We are done.” I smiled indifferently and walked away without looking back. Five years later, we met again at the top hospital in the country. By then, neither Elaine nor Karl knew that they both had malignant gliomas growing in their brains. I had become the only neurosurgeon in the country capable of successfully removing them. When she saw me in plain clothes, wiping vomit off the hospital floor, she had assumed I was a janitor. She sneered, “Michael, you’d really stoop to anything to run into me, wouldn’t you? You even followed me here. It’s time you faced reality. I’m worth millions now, and you are just a janitor. We are worlds apart. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I did not bother answering. At that moment, I was only thinking about which nurse I would need to speak to for slacking off on the job. Luckily, I had just finished surgery and was going home when I spotted the patient in distress. Otherwise, the patient could have been in serious danger.