Noted To Myself Novels & Stories

A month before our medical fellowship was over, my fated mate, Julian, secretly filed to transfer packs to the High Council. I overheard his friend trying to talk him out of it. "You're ditching your home pack for Crimson Peak, all for Elodie? You did it behind Vesper's back? She's dead set on going home to Silver Crest. She even landed the Chief Healer position. You think she'll just agree? Didn't you two leave the pack for the Neutral Territory just so you could one day go back and serve?" Julian just chuckled, loosening his tie. His voice was laced with the arrogant confidence of a man who thought he owned my soul. "Vesper's my fated mate. We're already bonded. She'll follow me to Crims

“It is done,” he said softly. “You carry my mark now. The Devil’s mark. You are bound to me….by the moon, by the curse, by choice. Your body belongs to me. You will have no say in what I do to you whether you want it or not. I will use you for as long as I want, in any way I want. You have given me the right to own you completely, to take you, to make or break you and make you mine until you can't even remember what it feels like to be free.” ****** They took everything from Elara Veyra. Her father. Her dignity. Branded wolf-less, betrayed by the man she loved, and cast out by the pack that once called her their own, she ran into the one place even death fears to enter…..the curse

Belcalis Voss sold herself to the Lycan King to save her sister. It was meant to be a simple arrangement. One contract. One year. A temporary sacrifice to keep the only family she had alive. Instead, she stepped into a world that had been waiting for her long before she was born. Ancient symbols begin appearing around the King's estate. Strangers watch from the shadows. Secrets buried for centuries start rising to the surface. And beneath the estate lies a hidden chamber containing a truth powerful enough to shake the foundations of the Lycan world. The deeper Belcalis is pulled into that truth, the more impossible it becomes to ignore the man at its center. Charles Devereux, the Lycan

Bad news: I'm dead. Good news: I transmigrated into a novel. Bad news: I end up in a peasant woman's womb, and I'm about to be born as a fake heir. Good news: My little sister, claiming that it's better to be safe than sorry because the novel's main character shares my name, has forced me to read this novel cover to cover. I already know that once the real heir, Isaac Reed, comes home, he'll use our parents' guilt toward him to set me up. He'll frame me at a family acknowledgment banquet, making it look like I've taken liberties with the family's precious only daughter, Kiana Reed. My adoptive parents will be so furious that they'll disown me and kick me out of the house. In the end, I'

Right after the SAT results dropped, the admissions representatives from Blackridge University practically fought over me so fiercely it felt like they'd set the whole room on fire. They made an outrageous offer just to win me over, claiming that I could bring one friend along with full admission. As the clock reset, I chose no one this time around because I'd already lived through it once. In my last life, I didn't hesitate to pick my childhood best friend, Shawn Hooper. I gave him a ticket into a world he could never hope to reach without my help. And what did I get for it? A look of pure disgust. "You're pathetic," he sneered. "It's laughable that you'd dare use something like

Benedict Cole’s undercover mission had failed. Only his twin brother, David Cole, returned. I was devastated, nearly driven to madness over losing my husband. Holding Benedict’s police badge, I tried to slit my wrists nine times, but I was always rescued just in time. As my consciousness faded on my tenth attempt, I overheard a conversation between my mother-in-law, Helen, and David. “El has tried to commit suicide for you ten times now. How long are you going to keep this act up? This woman is head over heels for you. Just stop lying to her already!” David’s expression hardened as he flatly refused. “David took a bullet for me. It is only right that I take care of his wife.”

Vincent,the Don of the Mafia,and I had just exchanged our vows in church when he brought home an orphan. He said it was to repay a life debt. From that day on,whenever it came to that girl,Lila,I always came second. Lila framed me.She claimed I forced her to touch drugs.In a fit of rage,Vincent locked me in the Family's underground water dungeon for three full days and nights. "The freezing water of the dungeon will teach you what mercy means!" The bone-chilling cold was absolute torture.My heart completely died.I begged him through a high fever and pure despair. Yet Lila just nestled into his chest,her voice dripping with fake concern. "Elena is the Donna of the Family,af

I accompany my husband, Michael Yates, to a stationed assignment on a remote island. Out at sea, a sudden storm hits. The ship capsizes and begins to sink. As the commanding officer, my husband gives the last life vest to his so-called godsister, Naomi Hollister. I don't cry or scream. I just watch silently as he carefully fastens the straps around her body. In my past life, I had clutched my pregnant belly and begged him for help. After a brief hesitation, he finally put the vest on me. But Naomi was swept away by the waves, and her body later washed up on shore. Only half of it remained. Michael insisted it wasn't my fault. He also said that saving me was his duty, both morally and p

To help my surgeon husband with his erectile dysfunction, I made an appointment with an expert six months in advance. But as the day approached, Isiah Coleman canceled it without explanation. Just as I was about to call him to demand answers, I spotted a post from his female friend on her social media. My usually stoic husband was beaming as he wrapped his arms around her. The caption read: [Only I can cure your illness.] What struck me, though, was the telltale bulge in his pants in the photo—a reaction I'd never seen from him with me. With a cold laugh, I liked the post and left a comment: [What a miracle worker!] The post exploded, with everyone speculating whether I'd confront the

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not ra