Paula Cahen D'anvers Novels & Stories

It was at our engagement banquet that I finally learned the truth. I wasn't the true heiress of a noble human family. I wasn't the "fated bride" destined to bear a half-blood child for the vampires. I was just the wrong baby someone had brought home from the hospital. A fake. I'd thought that Alexander, the boy who'd risked his life to drag me out of a burning house, the boy I'd grown up beside, would love me the same as always. Instead, in front of everyone, he let go of my hand and looked down at me with cold eyes. "Without that bloodline, do you really think you deserve to stand beside me?" Then he reached out and slid the engagement ring off my finger himself. He turned, and led the true heiress up to the high platform. Everyone laughed at me. The fake heiress, delusional enough to think she could marry the vampire heir. I was thrown out of the only home I'd ever known. The only kindness left to me was Alexander's, a scrap of charity that let me stay at his side as the lowest thing a vampire could keep. A blood slave. And then, later, I died in an explosion. Saving him. Alexander knelt in the blood and lost his mind, screaming at everyone around him to save me. But there was something he didn't know. I hadn't died. Later still, at a vampire banquet, he saw me again at last. I walked past him on another man's arm, smiling. And this time, it was his turn to lose his mind begging me to look back at him.

My best friend was a D-list influencer who'd blown six months of savings to drag me to a so-called "socialite finishing school." But then the instructor made us slap each other across the face — an "obedience test." I couldn't help it. I laughed. The next second, my friend was blacklisted from the entire circle, and her agent sent a termination notice. The instructor pointed at me and gave my friend an ultimatum: "Get on your knees. Slap her ten times. Then I'll lift the ban." My friend cried, trembling as she walked toward me. I sighed. The billion-dollar inheritance I'd just received — looks like the secret was about to come out.

HUNCHING my shoulders against the cold, I watched my breath mist out in front of me. It was either that or head into the convenience store opposite and grab some cigs, which I couldn’t do. Ma’d already threatened to lop off my head if she caught me stinking of smoke, and while I wasn’t averse to a clipped ear, what with being twenty, I didn’t give much of a anymore. My wrist was , thanks to how many times Da had broken it, and I’d been shot at twice. I could cope with her pulling on my ear like it was stuck on with Velcro. Dealing with Mariska’s repugnance, however, was another matter entirely.

I woke up naked beside a man I hadn’t seen in eight years. Before noon, the scandal was everywhere. By noon, I’d lost my position as CEO, my name, and my marriage. But the worst betrayal wasn’t the headlines. It wasn’t walking in on my husband and my best friend planning my downfall and mocking me. It was finding out the man I loved, my sweetheart of five years, made me a surrogate without my knowledge. The twins I'd been carrying for seven months weren't mine. But it failed to break me. It only made me stronger. After all, I wasn't just a mother—I was a CEO.

When my son was born, I noticed a small, round birthmark on his arm. But the weird thing? By the time I opened my eyes again after giving birth, it was gone. I figured maybe I'd imagined it. That is, until the baby shower. My brother-in-law's son, born the same day as mine, had the exact same birthmark. Clear as day. That's when it hit me. I didn't say a word, though. Not then. I waited. Eighteen years later, at my son's college acceptance party, my brother-in-law stood up and dropped the truth bomb: the "amazing" kid I'd raised was theirs. I just smiled and invited him and his wife to take their "rightful" seats at the table.

On our wedding day, Ethan got a call and bolted from the ceremony. Grandma was so furious she started coughing up blood, and everyone just watched. Not one person stepped in to help. I raced her to the hospital, but it was too late. She was gone before they even got her inside. Then, as I sat alone in the morgue, my phone lit up. It was Ethan. "Grace, get to the hospital. Bella's hurt and needs your blood!" "Ethan Carter, it's over between us." I ended the call, leaving the last pieces of my heart—and him—behind. Months later, he was on his knees in the pouring rain, begging for forgiveness, saying he'd do anything, give anything, if I'd only look back.

I have a confession: my name is Amber Kratos. Eighteen. My father is the fearsome Alpha of the most powerful Blood Moon Pack, and I’ve been sleeping with his stepbrother—my step uncle—Hunter Black. I know, I know. It’s all wrong. Our illicit affair would eventually end in a miscarriage (or so he thinks), then I’d be rejected and exiled after he betrayed my father and took over the clan. Six years later, I’d return as the Luna of my own pack for a bloodthirsty revenge on Hunter, now the Alpha of the new Black Crescent Pack. But our darling son—and my wretched, wretched lust and enduring love for that forbidden fruit of a man—would keep getting in the way. Ah hell….

My younger sister Ruth and I got a do-over, reborn to the day we were about to be adopted. Ruth clung to Jeremy, the butcher who'd taken me in during my last life, and begged, "Please, Mr. Butcher, let me be your daughter!" She thought she had it all figured out—Jeremy Butcher was set to rise to power, while the rich couple adopting her would crash and burn. It was clear—she was gunning for the life I built in my last run. I just smiled. She had no clue. Jeremy's success? Yeah, that was all me. Without my help, he'd stay a small-town butcher forever. From day one, Ruth was chasing a dream that was already doomed.

When introverted college student, Gabriella Brooks, escapes her overbearing parents grasp. She finds solace in a quaint LA apartment. But her newfound peace was short lived as her next door neighbor Kai Alexander Flynn, a tattooed enigma with piercing eyes and a sharp tongue stirred up trouble. He was everything she'd been sheltered from, he was her antithesis: darkness to her light, chaos to her calm. Yet, in the storm of his presence, she found an unexpected freedom. She began to realize that his kind of chaos might be exactly what she needed to break free. As their animosity ignited into something fierce, she'd have to decide: Was he her ruin or her salvation? Was he her reckoning or her rebirth?

She signed her freedom away with a trembling hand and a heart full of rage. Two years as Lucien Cross's contracted wife, playing the role of loving spouse while he remained her enemy behind closed doors. Mara Quinn made a deal with the devil to save her family. He married her to claim his inheritance. Their marriage is a battlefield, their home a cage gilded in wealth she never wanted. But hate burns hot—and somewhere between the fights and the forced proximity, between the public kisses that mean nothing and the private moments that mean everything, the line between enemies and lovers begins to blur. She promised herself she'd walk away when the contract expired. He promised himself he'd never care. They were both wrong.