Off The Books

My husband's first love jumped to her death due to depression and landed right on me as I was passing by. I was rendered unconscious on the spot and subsequently rushed to the ICU. However, my orthopedic surgeon husband stayed by his first love's side to comfort her over her minor scratches. He even refused to sign my Critical Care Notification. "Whoever joined her charade can get lost along with her! Come to me when she's really dead!" he said. It wasn't until he received a death certificate that he realized in horror—the deceased's information was identical to mine.

My boy friend Caleb Ford's childhood sweetheart, Julia Leclair, is losing her hair from chemotherapy. So, he orders me to cut mine off and make her a wig. "Julia's allergic to synthetic wigs. You've been growing your hair for ten years—it's perfect." I refuse, but his friends tie me down. Someone shaves my head to the scalp, buzzing through my thick, glossy hair until nothing's left but a butchered mess. Julia sits in her wheelchair and laughs, saying I look like a toad. Caleb smiles and nods in agreement. He adds with a chuckle, "It's just some hair. Was that really necessary?" But back when I was bullied for having uneven, choppy short hair for six straight years, it was he who stood in front of me. He had his arms spread wide as he shielded me from harm. Now he's the one wielding the blade. One by one, their little circle chimes in. They tell me not to hold a grudge against someone who's sick. Caleb snaps impatiently, "Stop trying to talk sense into her. She can get lost! Did you see that fit she threw over a few strands of hair? It's not like they won't grow back." I turn around and walk away. I never look back. Later, I hear that Caleb begs for my forgiveness by kneeling his way up 9000 steps until his knees are ruined.

After an unexpected pregnancy, Silas Shaw, who had always avoided the topic of marriage, suddenly proposed to me. Overjoyed, I readily accepted. However, on the day of the wedding, I stumbled upon an unexpected conversation between him and his friends. "Are you really going to marry Chaldene just because of your child with Nora?" one of them asked. Silas was visibly irritated and full of disdain as he responded, "It's all because of my mother. She kept saying that Nora's family background wasn't good enough.” "If it weren't to give my child with Nora a better status, why on earth would I marry Chaldene?” "You have no idea how boring a woman like her is in bed. I got tired of her after sleeping with her twice."

He shouldn’t have imagined her lying naked on his bed. She shouldn’t have imagined his devilishly handsome face between her legs. But it was too late. Kiara began noticing Ethan's washboard abs when he hopped out of the pool, dripping wet after swim practice. Ethan began gazing at Kiara’s golden skin in a bikini as a grown woman instead of the girl next door he grew up with. That kiss should have never happened. It was just one moment in a lifetime of moments, but they both felt its power. They knew the thrumming in their veins and desperation in their bodies might give them all they ever wanted or ruin everything if they followed it. Kiara and Ethan knew they should have never kissed. But it's too late to take that choice back, so they have a new one to make. Fall for each other and risk their friendship or try to forget one little kiss that might change everything. PREVIEW: “If you don’t want to kiss me then... let’s swim.” “Yeah, sure.” “Naked.” “What?” “I always wanted to try skinny dipping. And I really want to get out of these clothes.” “What if someone catches you... me, both?” “We will be in the pool, Ethan. And no one can see us from the living room.” I smirked when I said, “Unless you want to watch me while I swim, you can stay here.” His eyes darkened, and he looked away, probably thinking the same when I noticed red blush creeping up his neck and making his ears and cheeks flush. Cute. “Come on, Ethan. Don’t be a chicken...” “Fine.” His voice was rough when he said, “Remove that sweater first.”

On the day our son, Lucas Smith, turned one month old, my husband, Xavier Smith, learned that his precious childhood sweetheart, Wendy Xander, had been kidnapped. The kidnappers made an outrageous demand. They wanted him to personally cut off our son’s legs. He acted indifferent, as if it didn’t matter. But behind my back, he drugged my drink with a heavy dose of sleeping pills. Dazed and barely able to stay awake, I forced myself toward the nursery. That was when I overheard his conversation with his bodyguard. “Mr. Smith, there’s a good chance Miss Xander staged this whole kidnapping. Are you really going to do this? What if something happens to Lucas?” “It’s just a kid. If he dies, he dies. “Even if this is all fake, I won’t take a single risk when it comes to Wendy.” My hands trembled as I gripped the doorframe. So this was what I meant to him. Eight years together. His own flesh and blood. And none of it mattered more than Wendy.

I took a bullet for my boyfriend, Leo. When I woke up, I decided to play a little game. I told him I had amnesia. I wanted to see what he'd do. Instead, I saw a flash of excitement in his eyes. Next thing I know, he brings in his cousin. Dante. The Don of the family. "This is your fiancé, Dante. You've been engaged for two years." Dante. The man who supposedly hated me. Now he was staring at me like I was his whole world. "Yes," he said. "I'm your fiancé." Fine. I'll play along. I need to know what game Leo is playing. That night, I saw it. Security footage in Dante's mansion. Leo, in bed with another woman. He kissed her like he was starving. Pushed inside her. And he talked trash about me. "Let my cousin watch Bella for a while. She's so damn needy. You're what I really need, Scarlett." My heart shattered. He pawned me off on another man. Just so he could screw around. Fine. Two can play at that game. I'll get myself a new fiancé. I put on the wedding dress. I kissed Dante—a deep, devouring kiss, right in front of Leo. And that's when he finally broke. He lost his mind. Told me he was wrong and begged me to come back.

Book 1 Saints and Sinners She was the light to my dark. The saint to my sinner. with her innocent eyes and devilish curves. A Madonna that was meant to be admired but never touched. Until someone took that innocence from her. She left. The darkness in my heart was finally complete. I avenged her, I killed for her, but she never came back. Until I saw her again. An angel dancing around a pole for money. She didn’t know I owned that club. She didn’t know I was watching. This time I won’t let her escape. I will make her back into the girl I knew. Whether she likes it or not. Book 2 Judge and Jury I can’t stop watching her. I’m not even sure I want to. Taylor Lawson, blonde, beautiful, and totally oblivious to how much dangers she’s in. She’s also the one juror in my upcoming murder trial that hasn’t been bought. The one who can put me behind bars for a very long time. I know I should execute her. After all that’s what I do. I am the Judge. I eliminate threats to The Family. And Taylor is a threat. But I don’t want to kill her. Possessing her, making her love me seems like a much better plan for this particular Juror.

On their third wedding anniversary, Clark Summer gifted his wife a diamond necklace named "Love Nyla," broadcasting his devotion to the world. But while the public swooned, Nyla sat alone in their empty home, staring at a photo sent by a stranger: her husband’s new secretary, Jordyn, wearing that same necklace, tangled in Clark’s arms. For three years, Nyla had been the perfect, submissive wife. In return, she received betrayal, humiliation from her mother-in-law, and Clark’s sickening justification that his affair was merely a "physical necessity" while he still loved her. He believed Nyla was trapped, tethered to him by her father’s astronomical medical bills. He thought she would swallow the insults and raise his mistress's child. He was wrong. Selling their mansion, gathering evidence, and delivering irrefutable proof of her infidelity… Nera turned and left, donning a white lab coat instead of an apron, transforming overnight into a top-tier pharmaceutical researcher who had astonished the industry. When Clark, with belated repentance and red-eyed pleading for her return, saw his icy ex-wife being gently embraced by his uncle Damon, he saw the aloof man before him. The superior man coldly glanced at his nephew, his voice low and dangerous: "What are you calling 'wife'? Call her 'auntie'."

Sandy grew up surrounded by kids who adored the story of Cinderella—the gentle girl who lost her father, was cast aside by her cruel stepfamily, and endured endless chores without ever fighting back. But Sandy? She loathed it. She couldn’t stand how Cinderella stayed silent, how she let herself be tormented. Then one day, Sandy died in a fire. And woke up as Cinderella. Thrown into the very tale she despised, Sandy tries to play her part—scrubbing floors, swallowing her pride, surviving the cruelty of her stepmother and stepsisters. But everything changes when she’s kidnapped by bandits. Cornered in the forest, her fear turns into rage… and something inside her erupts. A powerful gust of wind explodes from her body, flattening everything around her. Real, terrifying magic. Her eyes flew wide, her mouth agape—pure disbelief etched across her face. Could it be? Did Cinderella possess supernatural powers? And not just her—almost everyone in the kingdom shimmered with something… otherworldly. Was this still the fairytale she thought she knew? Or had the story slipped into something far more enchanted than anyone imagined?

Just before my wedding, my fate mate, my Alpha fiancé, Micheal, stripped me of my wedding dress—our wedding dress—and handed it to his mistress, Becky Porter. Not only that, but he locked me in the dressing room like some rabid wolf he needed to contain. "Becky has a terminal illness.She just wants to experience being a bride before she dies." I lunged forward, my wolf howling inside me. Alpha's strength pressed against mine, his dominance forcing my muscles to lock. My claws twitched, itching to break free. "You bastard!" I snarled, my breath ragged. Micheal barely blinked. Instead, he let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head . "She’s dying, and you can’t even show a little compassion?" His tone dripped with disappointment, as if I were the villain here. "You’re only losing a wedding, but Becky… Becky is losing her dreams and her life."