Romans & histoires Paid To Read Novels

They've called me a lot of things; Desperate, reckless and stupid. My name is Arthur Rowen, and three months ago, my world ended. My father was murdered—skull branded on his forehead like a sick calling card, Lionel family signature marking him as a traitor. My twin brother Asher vanished the same night without a trace, like he never existed. The police won't help because Lionel's own them. So I did what any desperate, reckless, stupid person would do: I got myself hired at The Pit of Lust, the Lionel family's underground sex club. The plan was simple: infiltrate, investigate, find Asher, get out. Then Andreas Lionel noticed me. Seven years older, dangerously beautiful, rumored to have appetites that would make a devil blush. The man who might have signed my father's death warrant. He wants me in his private suite, in his bed and under his control. Maybe I should run and while I'm at it, I should remember why I'm here but Andreas touches me like I'm something precious, not another pretty body in his collection. Fucks me like he's trying to ruin me for anyone else, while somehow making me feel whole for the first time in my life. The worst part? It's working and my legs are spreading with each passing night shamelessly. I'm falling for the man who destroyed my family. My brother is still missing and my father is still dead. And I'm still lying to the one person who's made me feel alive. They say revenge is a dish best served cold. No one warned me it would taste like whiskey and sin on Andreas Lionel's tongue Or that I'd crave the flavor like an additive.

For five years, Aria Jones was Damien Cole’s invisible wife, trapped in a cold, loveless marriage while he mourned another woman. Damien believed Aria destroyed the one woman he had ever loved, and no matter how hard she tried, she could never escape the hatred in his eyes. So she stayed silent, endured the humiliation, and slowly lost herself in a marriage that was never meant for her. Then, on their fifth wedding anniversary, Lily returned. Damien didn’t hesitate. He threw the divorce papers in front of Aria and demanded she sign them before the night ended. She didn’t beg or cry. She simply signed her name and walked away. But Aria didn’t leave empty-handed. She left carrying Damien’s child. The years that followed nearly destroyed her, but she refused to remain broken. From nothing, Aria rebuilt her life, founded her own company, and became a woman powerful enough to stand in the same world Damien once ruled alone. Now, a high stakes corporate merger forces them back into each other’s lives. For the first time, Damien looks at Aria with regret instead of hatred, desperate to undo the past and win her back. But some wounds cut too deeply to heal, and Damien has no idea he’s already a father.

My wife, Rosalie Maynard, gets reported to the authorities for embezzling her company's funds just to please her childhood friend, Ralph Osborne, by placing a high-stakes winning bid at an auction house. I'm the one who help clear all of her debts and receive the three-year prison sentence on her behalf. Rosalie promises me that she will cut off all ties with Ralph and stay devoted to me. But throughout my three-year sentence, she never visits me at the prison. On the day I get released from prison, I bump into Rosalie at the hospital, who has just given birth to a baby. As she plays with the newborn in the crook of her arm, she tells the others, "Vernon is about to get released from prison. The news of me giving birth must never get out. Otherwise, he'll definitely start a fight with me." I find it absolutely ironic, honestly. Not even a three-year prison sentence can make a woman, who's never been in love with me in the first place, miraculously fall for me. This time, I don't bother making a ruckus. Instead, I choose to disappear from Rosalie's world entirely.

On the night Arya Sinclair discovered her husband in bed with her sister, her world shattered. Alone, heartbroken, and on the edge of despair, Arya believed her life was over… but fate had other plans. Because that same night she met Blake Donovan. He was supposed to be a mistake, a stranger she would never see again. But she was wrong. Blake was dangerously attractive and impossibly powerful and he was offering her a second chance, power, and a chance for revenge. As Arya steps into a world of speed and ruthless ambition, enemies lurk behind polished smiles—her past refuses to stay buried, and the line between revenge and desire begins to blur. Now, Blake Donovan doesn’t just want to help her win, he wants her. And in a game where power is everything and love is the most dangerous gamble of all, Arya must decide: Will she rise and take everything she was denied? Or will she lose herself all over again—this time, to the one man who could either save her… or destroy her completely?

Everyone knew I’d do anything for Lucius Falcone. I was his shadow, his most devoted follower… or, to be blunt, his lapdog. For three years, I trailed after him, indulging his every mafia-heir whim. When he went street racing at midnight, I was in the passenger seat, even when I was burning up with a 104-degree fever. When he was screwing some other woman, he’d call me to bring toys, and I’d show up, no questions asked. Finally, Lucius started to soften. Just when everyone thought I was about to finally get what I’d been working for… At the party celebrating his taking over as Don of the Falcone family, he showed up with some bombshell on his arm. He gave me a bored look and said, "You're dull in bed. Tina, on the other hand, knows how to get me off." The whole room was waiting for me to break down. Instead, I just gave a small smile. "Then congratulations to you both." Then I turned, walked out, and got on a plane to Paris. Lucius was already making bets that I’d come crawling back within three days. What he didn't know was that his mother had paid me five million dollars to do it all. The contract was up. The money was in my account. I was finally free to leave him and to finally chase my own dream in Paris.

BOOK #5 Wright-Petrov Series Nursing her broken heart and crushed pride, Abigail Marie Fuentebella Sandoval boldly gatecrashed her ex-fiance's engagement party. As she stood in the corner of the massive hall, she gritted her teeth in pure contempt while witnessing his betrayal. Worst, they looked so happy together. To assuage the searing pain drilling her chest, she drowned her sorrows in several glasses of champagne. Her boyfriend of eight years fathers her scheming stepsister's unborn child. Seeking retribution, she impulsively hooked up with a striking man from the crowd, convinced he was someone of importance. However, she was cruelly ridiculed after discovering he was a pauper, not the prince she had hoped for. She faced immense mockery for presumably "downgrading" from her wealthy ex-fiance, Justin Del Castillo, the President of F&D Group of Companies, to a struggling man who couldn't even afford to take her on a date at her family-owned luxurious hotel. Unbeknownst to everyone, especially to Abigail, she was not mistaken that night. The man she chose was not a mere millionaire, but a BILLIONAIRE. The shrewd business tycoon, CEO Lucas Alexander Montes Wright, the cherished firstborn of the world's richest family and the eldest heir of the Petrov Mafia.

On the day of our wedding, Henry Zander, my fiance, gets his legs broken in a car crash in his attempt of playing the knight in shining armor who intends to rescue the damsel in distress. So, I terminate our wedding on the spot. Both families surround me, trying to convince me to prioritize the bigger picture. My future mother-in-law cries her heart out as she takes my hand. "Winona, Henry got crippled because of his acts of heroism! He's the real hero here! If you head over to the hospital and take good care of him from now on, we'll still be a family!" My mom hugs me as well, her voice lowered. "You're still pregnant with the Zanders' heir, Winona. Do you have the heart to deliver your baby to this world without a father in their life? Hurry up and apologize to the Zanders so that this incident can be water under the bridge!" My dad acts more impulsively by slapping me on the spot and calling me an insensitive bastard who humiliates the family. Regardless, I walk over to the emcee calmly and pick up the microphone. "I'll give the 880-thousand-dollar wedding gifts meant for Henry and me to the driver involved in this car accident."

"Bianca, be a good girl and spread those legs of yours. Tonight, you belong to us." During the holidays, my husband, Ernest Bowman, has lost a card game against his three childhood friends, so he decides to pay off the debt by offering me to the men. The village men have never seen a city woman as dainty and delicate as me. That's why they get turned on right away. I struggle against them violently, but I can't stop them from spreading my legs forcibly. Thanks to the strong sensations overwhelming me, I can't help but get aroused by their actions, causing my panties to get soaked. "Settle down! Slutty women like you are meant to pleasure us!" After that, someone tears my soaked panties into shreds.

Heating starts on the 15th, so I give my mom the money to pay the heating bill two days in advance and ask her to pay it for me. But a week passes, and it still feels like an icehouse in my apartment. I am on the phone complaining to my younger brother's wife, Selena Lyons, who lives upstairs. "You are right not to pay the heating fee. I paid, and it made no difference. We're freezing to death here." From the other end of the call, I faintly hear my nephew shouting, "Mom, it's so hot! I want a popsicle!"

As the male lead, Henry Johnston, forces himself on me, a row of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Henry is about to misunderstand and think Aria drugged him! The angst is about to begin!" "I'm thrilled just thinking about Henry regretting dearly after Aria dies!" "Keep up the act, Henry. After she dies, you'll be hugging her corpse and crying every day." That is when I realize that I am the tragic female lead in a story where I am destined to be tormented until I die. The readers treat my death as a highlight to push the plot forward. They are counting down to my death. As I look at Henry, who is panting on top of me, anger courses through me. I grab a table lamp and smash it into him, killing him on the spot. Who says that the one who dies in a toxic romance story must always be the female lead?