Novel & Cerita Nightwork Nora Roberts

In the twenty years I was bound to my host, this was the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time I had watched him argue with Vivian Hale. The meal he had carefully prepared was smashed all over the floor. His eyes were red as he nearly shouted at her. "Why do you choose him every single time? You divorced him, remember? I am your husband!" Vivian remained calm, as if she had known all along that my host would make a scene. "So what if we divorced? I have a child with him. I cannot just ignore him." That one careless sentence left my host sitting frozen in place for a long, long time. Long enough for the sky outside to go completely dark. There had been countless moments like this before, but he had always gritted his teeth and held on. I thought this time would be no different. Until my host suddenly asked me, "What happens if I abandon the mission?"

On the day after my twin brother, Jonathan Sander's death, I've married Natania Gilmore, my widowed sister-in-law. That day, Natania prints a thousand copies of Jonathan's death report and announces to the world that I'm the actual killer. Because of that, everyone despises me. Even my parents sever all ties with me on the spot. After our marriage, Natania keeps getting into romantic scandals. She's also brought countless men home with her. She makes me stand outside her room while listening to their debauchery every time. I'm also required to take photos of her and her boytoy with my camera once they are done with their lovemaking. I can only stomach everything quietly. My only plea is that I get to have a child with Natania. But Natania just scoffs at me. "Just how much of a filthy wuss are you, Leon Sander? If you need a woman's touch that badly, go ahead and find yourself another woman out there. Doesn't the idea of kneeling by my feet while begging for my touch like a mutt disgust you? "What, you really think having a child with me can tie me down? I'll have you know that I will never settle down with you for the rest of my life!" In order to shatter my hopes, Natania even goes out of her way to be cruel to me by spending a fortune on building a horse ranch. Each horse stable is taken up by her lovers. Even the people in the elite society claim, "The group of stallions that Natania keeps in her stables are a lot better than the simping mutt who wags his tail at her at home." Three years later, my mother-in-law, Wendy Gilmore, suddenly texts me a reminder. "Remember our promise, Leon. Three years are up. You have one more week to tie up all the knots in your life."

When I found out my wife was hiding the divorce papers from me, I set up a car crash and pretended I had lost my memories. Naively, I thought this could save our seven-year marriage. But when Josephine Gillard found out I had lost my memories, I saw something called relief flicker in her eyes. Calmly, she told me, "We're siblings. Nothing more, nothing less. Even if we aren't related by blood." Before I could say a word, a nurse pushed open the door with a knowing smile. "Your husband and child are here, Dr. Gillard. Oh, I can't believe you're still so in love even after years of marriage." I was struck dumb. Only after Josephine left did I finally find the courage to speak. With a trembling voice, I asked the nurse, "How long has she been married?" The nurse looked envious. "Five years, and she just came back from maternity leave." While I was risking everything to save our marriage, she had already built another family behind my back.

Jessica Morrison had been divorced from her ex-husband, Mark Tatum, for five years, yet they still shared a joint bank account. She made over six figures a year, but every time her salary hit her account, she transferred every last cent to him. "Even though we're divorced, we still have a child together. I can't just turn my back on him." For years, she used that as her excuse. She went to take care of her and Mark's son while her own water had already broken. Because of that, our daughter, Emma, was born with health issues. Later, when Emma had a medical emergency and needed surgery, Jessica gave all the money to Mark's son instead. That time, I asked for a divorce. But she begged me through her tears. "They're both my children. You have to understand—I'm a mother. I promise it will never happen again." For the sake of our young daughter, I gave in. But this time, Emma got sick with a high fever and was diagnosed with acute leukemia. When I went to pay the bill at the hospital, I was told the card had been declined. The bank account that should have had hundreds of thousands of dollars was completely empty. That's when I found out Jessica had transferred all the money again. Our daughter was delirious from the fever, holding my hand. "Daddy, does Mommy not want me anymore?" I comforted her as best I could, but deep down, I knew—maybe it was time to find my daughter a new mother.

Laura Roberts, an 18years old young lady and the second daughter to the Roberts family. She is brave, intelligent and beautiful beyond doubts. This attributes of her, became her danger which lead to her death. Will she allow her culprits to go scot free? Join on this journey to find out more

I'm Caroline Forbes, the omega everyone in GreyHound Pack steps over on their way to somewhere better. My mother's name is a rumor named “whore” and my future is a mop and a dungeon sentence waiting to happen. But, I had one thing keeping me going and his name was Alexander Wolfe. Then the mating ceremony took him too. Now I have no mate, rank, or the royal's mercy since the pack had one tradition for girls like me and it ended with a grave. Then the cold and ruthless Jarek Wolfe, the alpha who had never once looked at me like I was worth his time, stopped them. But at what cost?

Vivian Grant lost her memory and forgot everything about me. Her memory stopped in the year when she loved her ex-husband most. No matter how the people around her tried to explain it, she still believed I was the third party who had come between them. The doctors said her amnesia might be treatable, so I held on to that hope and refused to let go. For three years, we got divorced and remarried over and over again. We became the biggest joke in the city's elite circles. Some people even started betting on us. They bet on when I would finally give up, and when Vivian would finally remember. Then news of our eighth divorce hit the trending charts again. Reporters rushed into the law firm with cameras on their shoulders. They shoved microphones in my face, their questions full of provocation. "Mr. Sterling, as a divorce attorney, how does it feel to have been divorced eight times yourself?" The firm's sign was smashed. The commendation banners clients had given me were trampled underfoot. Before I could respond, my supervisor fired me for damaging the profession's reputation. "Julian Sterling, let me give you some advice. Have some self-respect. Stop clinging to Ms. Grant." I clenched my trembling hands and suddenly felt exhausted. They were right. This time, I really should give up.

On the day I had acute heart failure, the hospital issued several critical condition notices in a row. While I was still conscious, my attending physician told me to call my family and say my last words. On instinct, I dialed Julia Mars, but no one picked up for a long time. It wasn't until later that I found a "private arrangement" contract posted on her alt social media account. The terms spelled out her decade-long friends-with-benefits relationship with her childhood friend, Ken Cohen. Her best friend commented under the post with congratulations: [Not bad, Counselor Mars, finally ready to go public with your little childhood buddy. If your husband finds out, you think he'll have a heart attack from the shock?] Julia replied, completely unfazed: [He won't die. And even if he finds out, so what? The doctors didn't dare tell him that his heart is useless. He needs a transplant. That requires a fortune, and he can't get by without me.] I spent a full week in the ICU clawing my way back from death's door. And in those seven short days, every last bit of love I had for her burned away to nothing.

Tobias has always been the Beta, the loyal second-in-command, the enforcer of pack law, and the protector of his Alpha’s family. For years, he’s watched Lily Blackthorn, his Alpha’s sweet, innocent younger sister, grow into a woman. He knows she is forbidden to him, but when she goes into her first heat, the scent of her awakens something dark and primal within him. Tobias fights it. He tries to stay away. But his wolf is relentless, whispering one undeniable truth: She is mine. Lily has always admired Tobias, the brooding, disciplined warrior who guards her brother’s side. But when her heat takes hold, she sees the hunger in his eyes. She feels the pull between them. And she wants to surrender. One night. One forbidden taste. And Tobias is lost. But when the Alpha discovers their betrayal, Tobias is forced to make an impossible choice, fight for the love that could tear the pack apart, or abandon his mate to save himself.

When I went to pick Diana Grant up, she just tossed the car keys toward me. Dangling from the silver ring was a plush white bear pendant. I paused, knowing that she had never kept a keychain or a decorative charm on her keys. Once I slid into the driver's seat, the entire alignment felt off. The seat had clearly been adjusted. "Did you let someone else drive your car?" I asked, keeping my voice casual. Dazed from the alcohol, she offered a dismissive shrug. "Yeah. I lent it to an employee for a quick business trip." I didn't press further. The next morning, the chime of the doorbell broke the silence of the house. When I pulled the door open, a shy, clean-cut young guy was standing on the porch. He blinked, then forced a sheepish smile and handed over a cup of coffee. "Hi," he stammered. "I'm just here to drop off a fresh coffee for Ms. Grant." But my attention wasn't on the coffee. My gaze dropped to his left hand. Twirling lazily around his index finger was a set of keys, and swinging from the metal loop was the same white bear pendant. I took the coffee cup from his hand and quietly closed the door. In the room, Diana's phone lit up on the table. A new notification flashed across the lock screen. It was a message that read: [Diana, I just met your husband. He looks kind of scary. Coffee was delivered safely anyway. Try to drink less alcohol next time, okay?] I picked up the phone and pulled up the video camera. With the recording running, I held the coffee cup over the kitchen sink and slowly poured the warm liquid down the drain. Then I uploaded the recorded video to Diana's social media, broadcasting it to her entire social circle. The caption read: [Thanks for the concern, but she doesn't drink coffee.]