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Eu fui forçada a trocar meu coração com o primeiro amor do meu marido. Depois disso, morri no corredor do hospital particular que ele mesmo criou. Antes de eu morrer, meu filho de seis anos, Otávio Júnior, chorou e implorou a pai dele três vezes. Na primeira vez, Otávio segurou a mão daquele homem e disse que eu estava vomitando sangue. Ele riu com desprezo: — Dessa vez ela finalmente aprendeu algo, até ensinou você a mentir. Em seguida, ele mandou os seguranças expulsarem Otávio do quarto. Na segunda vez, Otávio agarrou a manga de sua camisa e disse que eu estava delirando de dor. Ele franziu a testa: — É só uma troca de coração. Os médicos já disseram que ela não vai morrer. Mais uma vez, os seguranças puxaram Otávio para fora. Na terceira vez, Otávio se jogou no chão, segurou firme a barra da calça dele e chorou dizendo que eu já estava inconsciente. Dessa vez, ele perdeu a paciência. Ele agarrou Otávio pelo pescoço e o jogou para fora do quarto: — Eu já disse que Heloísa Dias não vai morrer. Se você vier aqui incomodar o descanso da Bianca Nunes de novo, eu juro que vou expulsar vocês dois deste hospital. Desesperado para me salvar, Otávio penhorou seu escapulário, algo que ele considerava um tesouro, para uma enfermeira: — Tia, eu não quero viver cem anos. Só quero que minha mamãe continue viva. A enfermeira aceitou o escapulário e se preparou para me transferir para o último quarto disponível. Mas o primeiro amor do meu marido, Bianca, bloqueou a porta com seu cachorro no colo e disse: — Sinto muito, garotinho. Seu pai está preocupado que eu me sinta sozinha sem o meu cachorro. Este quarto foi reservado para meu cachorro.

Antes de completar dezoito anos, eu era a adorada princesa da família Moretti. Tudo mudou no meu décimo oitavo aniversário, quando meu pai trouxe para casa uma garota órfã chamada Carina. — Ela precisa de um lar. — Disse meu pai. — Você cuidará dela, como uma irmã. A partir daquele momento, nada foi igual. Meu irmão, que antes me adorava, tornou-se frio e distante. E meu noivo... o amor dele por mim parecia se reduzir pela metade da noite para o dia. A família elogiava Carina por ser dócil e obediente, chamando-a de uma filha muito melhor do que eu, sua própria carne e sangue. Depois de muito ser deixada de lado por Carina, finalmente desabei e segurei a manga do meu pai. — O sangue não significa nada? — Perguntei. A fúria do meu pai se acendeu. Ele abrigou Carina em lágrimas atrás dele, e diante de toda a família, deu-me um tapa no rosto. — Seu desperdício egoísta. Eu devia nunca ter tido você. — Você traz vergonha a esta família. — A voz do meu irmão Marco soou fria como uma lâmina. — Saia. E meu noivo, Vincent, olhou para mim com desapontamento: — Se ao menos eu estivesse noivo da Carina desde o início. Eles achavam que eu me curvaria aos pés deles, como sempre fizera. Mas não disse uma palavra; apenas fui até o cofre da família, retirei os documentos oficiais e risquei meu nome com um único traço. Tirei o anel de noivado do dedo e o coloquei sobre a mesa. Dei a Carina tudo aquilo que eles achavam que eu não merecia. Afinal, eu tinha apenas mais vinte e quatro horas de vida. Mas eles não faziam ideia, naquele momento, de que — em meio às ruínas da família Moretti — um dia se ajoelhariam na chuva implorando pelo meu retorno.

Layla Carson is the newest widow in town. After being sold to an old billionaire and enduring her firsts at his hands, she's scared of what life might throw at her next. But the billionaire's son is here with her. Her stepson, who is two years older than her, handsome as hell, and also insisting on sleeping in her bed sometimes. When Layla asks him why he's doing that, he simply leans low and whispers, "Don't act like you don't want me to." And that's odd because she doesn't, does she? Ryan hated his father. He still hates him even now that he's dead, so he wants to take the one thing he thinks his father might have actually loved, something named Layla, with bright green eyes and the kind of body that'd make men drool for days, except he's not the only one here for her. Two other Alphas are here too, and each one of them have their eyes set on the beautiful widow now looking for a man to care for her and tend to her deepest desires. Layla has four months to decide who she wants to be with forever. Is it the stepson she can't stop thinking about, who makes her heart race when she sees him? Or is it Damien and Alex, the first - who rejected her for all to see when she was eighteen? Or the latter - who was the one person she had trusted in her pack, the one who had said he would accept her no matter what, but who rejected her too when she needed him the most. Both of whom are now back and asking her to forgive, and love them again.

Marco - The Don of the Cosa Nostra, cold, heartless and shielded, let's no one in. Conceals his pain. He is engaged to Roxy, for business. With no love or chemistry between them, their marriage is set to be nothing more than business. Lucia - An ordinary woman, with nothing special about her, or so she believes. She runs on emotions. Suffering from anxiety attacks and crazy moments. She's the complete opposite of Marco. Like him, she is engaged, only it's forced on her. Lucia - Life was great until a year ago, I had just been told about my mother's death to watch the love of my life and sister shot before my eyes. The loving father I once had, now cold, calculated, sells me. My newest boyfriend's last quest for me leaves me facing Marco - The Don. I won't go down without a fight. Keeping me captive in his great fortress, I can't escape. What I thought was my life, crumbled down when I found out the secrets my family had hidden. Even Marco couldn't comprehend how deep into the Cosa Nostra I have been since the day I was born. Marco - I knew it was a mistake taking her home, and keeping her hostage until I uncovered the truth. That mistake led to me feeling. It led me to want her like I had never wanted anyone else before. She ripped me open and pulled the feelings free I had buried and tried hiding throughout my life. She just walked in, blew up my life and said, deal with it. Like emotion isn't a weakness. PLEASE BE AWARE. Do not read if you are sensitive to the TW topics. This is one of my most open, raw, and descriptive books. It isn't often it fades to black.

(Bxb) Eric Valence thought finding a job as an editor for a well-known author named Draven H. Malcolm was the beginning of his writing career. He had no idea that it would also be the beginning of his love story. *** "You're so clueless, it bothers me." He frowned, "What does that mean-" "You never wondered why I gave you all the best things on my floor - the closest desk, drinks from my office, my newest project. I even went to your house and picked you up to make sure you weren't late." "My portfoli-" "There are twenty three others with the same experience as yours, that was an excuse," he admitted, peering into Eric's eyes and daring him to look away. Eric didn't. Draven sighed, "The reason I got mad that day..." he paused for a moment, hesitating again but deciding to let it all out, "the reason I got mad is because I heard you kissed Jason, which I wasn't too pleased about but then seeing you and Justin together..." He never finished his sentence, and Eric raised an eyebrow, "What about Justin and I?" "I feel like you're doing this on purpose," Draven chuckled, examining Eric's confused face. "I'm not sure what you're talking about-" "I like you," Draven said clearly with his entire diaphragm, expression it as loud as he could for Eric to understand. Eric felt his throat squeeze itself shut, no oxygen coming in or out. "I like you, a lot more than I thought, Eric," he breathed. Eric was unable to believe it, shook his head and looked away for moment, before meeting his gaze again. "Why me?" he asked quietly. Draven shrugged his shoulders, eyeing Eric with adoration and admiration, "I'm not sure either, but I want you to be mine."