Number Nine

Zoey Prince was a good girl. A girl with impressive goals. Goal Number One: Finish her bachelor's before age 21 - Tick Goal Number Two: Begin her Master’s by age 22 - Tick Goal Number Three: Get married to the love of her life by 25 - Not Quite On the day her Master’s program began, she discovered that the man she’d spent the past four years loving was cheating on her with her best friend, his excuse being that she was boring and by the books, and he needed someone fun. Zoey was shattered. Throwing caution to the wind, Zoe decided to prove to herself that she was not a boring person. She went on an escapade and this led her into the arms of the one man that promised to make her life a living hell. Professor Simon Beaumont. Simon Beaumont was a menace. At thirty-three, he’d achieved a feat his peers hadn’t achieved half of. Feat: Become a professor by twenty-eight - Tick Feat: Become a billionaire before thirty-five - Tick Feat: Get over his divorce from his ex-wife - Not Quite When his student, Zoey Prince got on his nerves, he was determined to make her life a living hell. When life threw her into his arms, he pushed, but soon he came to realize something: They both needed each other. Zoey would help him get over his messy divorce, and he would teach things about her body. … “Zoey, a man as impure as me shouldn’t be with someone as chaste as you. I’m a sinner before man, and before God.” Simon muttered as Zoey dry-humped him, placing her hands on his neck, her fingernails digging into the flesh of his nape. “I don’t care, professor. Just claim me as yours.” She whimpered into his ear.

Love is unpredictable, and often comes when we least expect it. Love can be felt for any number of reasons, and it’s those unexpected qualities that make someone stand out from the crowd. But what if that someone can’t be your mate, and loving her is against the rule? Would you still go for her and follow the whisper of your heart, or forget her and embrace your responsibility?

Rule number one: Do not kiss strange men in clubs. Rule number two: Never kiss the owner of the club. Rule number three: If he’s a secret billionaire with a dark past and a disturbing obsession with your heartbeat? Run. My name is Scarlett Whitmore. And I broke all three. I was born with a heart condition called Mitral Valve Prolapse. My mother hates me for ruining her life. My brother cannot stand me. And my boyfriend, Drake Bittencourt, the man I thought was the love of my life, proposed to my twin sister in front of 19,000 hockey fans. And she accepted him without hesitation. When my sister walks into the club I work at, flaunting Drake’s ring without remorse, I make a rash decision: I grab the first man that catches my fancy and kiss him like my life depends on it. He turns out to be Harlan Rousseau. Team captain of the formidable Vancouver Icefangs. Hockey god. And according to the tabloids, dead broke and drowning in debt. But the tabloids are wrong. Not only is Harlan Rousseau NOT broke, he’s the secret heir to a ninety- billion-dollar oil empire. He offers me a deal: wear his ring. play the devoted wife. And sleep in his bed for a year. In exchange, he’ll pay off my medical debt and save my best friend from homelessness. The most important of all: he offers a chance to get my revenge. I should’ve said no. But I was desperate. And desperate women make deals with the devil. The longer I stay, the more I realize Harlan Rousseau is not just hiding wealth. He’s hiding a monster. And I’m starting to think I don’t want to run from it…

Tahimik lang si Beth at walang kaibigan. Halos lahat ng estudyante sa university na pinapasukan niya ay binu-bully siya. And his number one bully was no other than his oh-so-hot neighbor, Kian. One day, she found herself in a dreadful situation. She was stock between, being Kian's woman or her scandal will be expose. Days later, they are suddenly. . . married

Alpha Desmond Wright gave up on finding his mate. Turning 40, he had accepted his chosen mate and her two children. That is until a human, Olivia Roberts moves into the area. Wandering for the last nine years around the world, she has been overcoming a tragic accident the best way she knew how. Olivia doesn't need anyone and Alpha Desmond hasn't been looking. Thrown together, they now need to figure out how they fit together in lives they have already built for themselves.

"You certainly do smell nice for a doxy,” He groaned, burying his face in my neck. "You should be mine." I chuckled, sliding my long nails over his neck, right atop his jugular. Hayden froze. “The fuck? Is that-“ “Wolfsbane?” I purred. “Yes it is.” He held his breath for a minute, before gritting out in a low gravelly voice. “Who the fuck are you?” I pulled away, still seated on his lap, grinning wolfishly. My tongue flicked out to lick my fangs before I replied. “Nova. Nova Frost.” ***** At the annual Howl Gathering, eighteen year old Nova Frost finds out that she is mated to the Alpha Hayden of the Storm clan. An Alpha said to rule over the mountain regions with an iron fist. He rejects her without a second thought. That same night, her father is killed along with several other Alphas, one of the few who made it out alive was Hayden. Those who made it out alive are called The Nine. Nova knows Hayden and the nine killed her father and spends seven years sharpening her sword for revenge. Seven years later she attends the howl gathering festival in disguise, out to seduce Alpha Hayden, find out why he and the nine had killed her father and then have her revenge all in the Seven days of the Howl Festival. What could possibly go wrong? Everything.

I was pregnant. On my way to deliver documents to Tristan Goldberg, a flash flood struck. Desperate, I dialed his number, praying he’d answer. After a few rings, the call connected. But instead of Tristan, a woman’s voice answered. "Tristan, whose number is this? Do you want to answer it?" There was a brief pause, and then Tristan’s voice, cold and indifferent, cut through. "It’s just my maid. Ignore it. Hang up." And just like that, the call disconnected. Staring at the torrent rising around me, my pulse quickened. I texted him, begging for him to send a rescue team. Minutes passed as the waters climbed to my waist, churning and relentless. Then, a message from Tristan finally appeared. Tristan: [What kind of ridiculous story are you making up now?] Tristan: [Emily, do you think you're eighteen, playing these childish games? I want that document in my hands within thirty minutes, or we're getting divorced.] A surge of terror shot through me as I looked up, catching sight of a heavy branch snapping loose and crashing down. In an instant, everything went dark.

At the company's celebration dinner, the new HR guy slapped a bill on the table—$860 for A/C and venue costs from our last all-nighter. I shot a look at Sherry—my girlfriend, my boss—thinking she'd have my back. Nope. She latched onto HR's arm and said, "Quentin, this isn't your daddy's company. Quit freeloading." And just like that, nine years of busting my ass for this company, and turns out—I was the discount item on the menu.

I have been the Donna of the Smith family for nine years— but only in name. I took my deceased twin sister Lily’s place, raised her daughter Emma as my own, and lived beside a husband, David, who never once looked at me with love. For nine long years, I gave everything. Emma, however, only saw me as the woman who “killed her mother,” never knowing it was Lily who stole my marriage, my identity, and the man who was supposed to be mine. She pushed me in public, screamed that I was a murderer, and even used the gun I gifted her to shoot the only thing that brought me comfort—a tiny bird I’d been nursing back to health. And David… David, the man I once loved with my whole heart, couldn’t hide the coldness in his eyes. Every time he looked at me, I could feel Lily’s shadow standing between us. So I made a decision. If this family wanted Lily so badly— then they could have her ghost. I would leave the Smith estate, the title of Donna, the child who hated me, and the man who never wanted me. But the night I packed my bags, David suddenly appeared in the doorway, blocking my path— his eyes no longer cold, but afraid. As if he had finally realized what losing me truly meant.

It's nighttime, and I'm on the toilet with my phone. I fire up Battleborn Arena, ready to grind a few ranked matches. But an unknown number flashes on-screen and cuts me off. Annoyed, I decline the call, and a WhatsApp message pops up immediately. "Run! Edgar just snapped. He's going to kill us all!" My hands tremble. Edgar Maguire… Isn't he already dead?