Norman Bean Pseudonym Novels & Stories

Shaira Jean Sanchez a kind-hearted woman, no one would ever think that Shaira is the daughter of a famous fashion designer, her family is one of the most wealthy in the Philippines. She moved to a school near her grandmother's house. Vincent Gibson Morales a cold and arrogant bully. He loves bullying new students and when Shaira transferred to their school, he starts what he's been doing to others. He makes her life every day in school like hell, but it pisses him off everytime Shaira acts as nothing happened. Every Vincent's birthday, he picks who he likes to be his slave, and he decided to pick Shaira. Shaira didn't mind it because Vincent will gonna pay her every time Vincent ask her to do something or to buy something. What would Vincent's reaction once he knows that Shaira's family is more wealthy than his family? Will Shaira gonna always be his slave or Shaira will fall for Vincent? He's Vincent Gibson Morales the cold-hearted bully. She's Shaira Jean Sanchez the bully's slave.

Claire was forced to marry David Buenavista because their parents tried to get them married. Claire and her boyfriend broke up because they were in the same situation. Her boyfriend was also agreed to marry her best friend Irene. How can she live with a man she doesn't know well? How can they get along and get to know each other if they are both not interested in each other?

"No, way! I don't want Heaven to marry that guy Tita, Tito!" I'm kinda shock when Ethan spoke, I didn't expect him to speak like that. "And I don't want Ethan to marry that girl Tita, Tito!" Mom and dad look disappointed. "Why are you always against each other's marriage? Are you two--" I don't know why I suddenly think of this right now but I don't care anymore! "W-We have a relationship! I love Ethan that's why I don't want him to marry another girl!" I turned my gaze to Ethan, he looked shock but then he suddenly held my hand. "Y-Yeah, Heaven is right, mom! We love each other that's why I don't her to marry him! The girl I want to marry is Heaven!" "WHAT??" "I thought you two are just friends..." "Best friend..."

Isabella is a young lady who is forced to sign a contract deal which sells her without possible revocation to the deadliest mafia Lord. Luca. Her parents, having no other option, use her as the last collateral to pay up whatever they owed Luca. After she arrives at Luca's Villa, he tries to make her comfortable but still drops warnings for her. Isabella is anything but comfortable. She is determined to get away from there as fast as possible. Isabella, without the knowledge of Luca, plans an escape. Ready to leave.

When I was eight months pregnant, my husband's foster sister invited me to hike a snow-covered mountain. Midway up, an avalanche hit. We were both buried. My husband rushed to the scene, but before I could utter a word, his sister accused me: "She planned this! She tricked me into coming today!" I tried desperately to explain. He didn't listen. Instead, he lashed out at me. "Sandra doesn't know any better, but you should! So what if she's blunt? Is this your petty revenge? Your pathetic life couldn't even begin to repay hers if she'd been hurt!" Then he left. Took her hand. Walked away. I screamed after him, begging him to save our baby. He didn't even glance back. Worse, he unhooked my safety harness and shoved me out of the rescue group. "Since you're so clever, find your own way down." Not long after, another avalanche hit. This time, I couldn't get back up. Three hours later, Sandra was in a car accident. She needed a blood transfusion. That's when he finally thought of me. But by then, he didn't know—I was already gone. Me, and the child I'd never hold, were still buried under the snow.

I was sitting in City Hall, about to sign that damn mate bond certificate with Logan—Alpha of the Eastside Moonclaws—when his phone buzzed. One glance. Then he stood up like this was all just another errand. Didn’t even flinch when he said: “Something came up. Let’s push the bond signing to another day, yeah?” And just like that, he was gone. Left me sitting alone, surrounded by bonded pairs, all glowing with that sickly sweet “forever” vibe. Why? Because Emma, his darling little childhood packmate, twisted her ankle during pack-speed training—trying to keep up with the advanced wolves when she barely passed the basic shifts. Ten minutes later, I get a text: “Emma’s injury’s kinda serious. I gotta stay with her. Let’s move the wedding, okay?” Just another time—maybe the last—Logan picked her over me. But this time? No tears. No begging. No rage. The clerk gave me a quiet look, like she already knew how the story ended. “Ma’am... do you still want to proceed?” I pulled out my phone.Didn’t wait for him to change his mind. The clerk gave me that soft, pitying look. “Ma’am... do you still want to proceed?” I shook my head, and dialed home. The moment my Beta sister picked up. “Tell Alpha Dad I’m coming back to the Ridge. Today.” A pause. “You sure?” “Yeah,” I said, standing up, my voice steady. “I’m done here.” And just like that, I walked out. Not just from the building—but from him.

Cole Jackman married me to repay a life‑saving debt. Eight years after I entered the Jackman family with tens of billions, his long‑lost, unreachable first love, Ashley White, returned, with her child. Because Ashley had a nightmare, she claimed my son, Oliver Jackman, would bring misfortune to her child. Cole believed her without hesitation. He sent Oliver to an abandoned monastery deep in the mountains, forcing him to fast for seven days to “purify” whatever darkness Ashley imagined. I knelt before him, pleading, “Oliver has a heart condition. He won’t survive seven days without food.” Cole, busy preparing nutritious meals for Ashley, didn’t even look at me. “He won’t die from a few days of hunger. If he can’t endure this, he doesn’t deserve to be my son.” He locked me in the basement for the entire seven days. By the time I reached Oliver, he was already gone. I carried him home in my arms, his small body cold and still. Cole kicked me aside as he pulled Ashley into his embrace. “You’ve ruined our son! He’d even pretend to be dead just to deceive me. If you can’t discipline him, I’ll find him a new mother.” I wiped the tears from my face and dialed my older brother, Emilio Darcy. “Withdraw your investment,” I said, my voice steady for the first time in years. “Bankrupt the Jackman family.”

Made by the blind god Hoder in Asgard, at the instigation and cunning of Loki, the god of playfulness and deceit who once again wanted to joke with a drama that happened in Asgard, Ragnar is cast out of the gods. He is then sent to Midgard and begins a man's life. Having received a physical trait that does not adhere to the image of the great viking, he is quickly rejected by the men around him. However, Hoder, his creator, never ceases to watch over him. Ragnar fortuitously meets The Seer, The Völva and he is pushed into a particular world of The Yggdrazil from where his quest begins. He made even more fortuitous encounters and falls into countless "Vikingest" adventures strewn with pitfalls and trials that will test him and prepare him for his "true" destiny.

My mate, Carter, sent me to a werewolf prison for four years. On the day I was released, he arrived holding the hand of his pregnant mistress. “This is what your parents owe me.” “From today on, you’ll take care of Amelia.” I nodded obediently. She made me pick roses with my bare hands. Made me plant a hundred pots under the scorching sun. Made me scrub my allergic, ulcerated skin with alcohol. And I did everything she asked. Until the day they brought me back to my old home. The house was gone. In its place stretched an endless rose garden. And my only sister— had become nothing but a box of ashes. That was the moment I understood. I survived not to atone. I survived to take revenge.

I am the young lady of the vampire house of Kaelaris. Having reached marriageable age, I chose, from a stack of portraits, the eldest son of the human family Norefax. My family indulged my preference and arranged our engagement, awaiting the day of my wedding. I do not drink red wine, but for the sake of human ceremony, I secretly went out—without telling my family—to select a rare century-aged vintage, intending to prepare it for the engagement ritual. The woman beside me glanced at the cabinet I had pointed to and immediately instructed the sales associate, “That bottle looks quite fine. Let me have a look.” Without hesitation, the associate rudely brushed me aside and handed the bottle straight to her. A chill entered my gaze as I spoke, “There is an order to everything. I selected that bottle first. What you’re doing is hardly proper.” She looked me up and down with open disdain and let out a mocking laugh. “This bottle costs sixteen thousand six hundred dollars. Dressed like that, I doubt you even qualify to smell it.” “I am Ethan Norefax’s stepmother. In New York’s Upper East Side, so-called ‘rules’ have always been decided by the Norefax family.” What a coincidence—Ethan was precisely my fiancé, and the very reason I wanted to buy that bottle. I dialed his number at once and said evenly, “Your stepmother has taken the bottle of wine I reserved for our engagement. How do you intend to handle this?”