Perfect Strangers Amazon Novels & Stories

My boyfriend and I set out on a graduation trip, but in the remote wilderness, we were kidnapped. The abductors had cruel intentions toward me, and to protect my boyfriend, I played along, buying time for him to escape and get help. After our rescue, though, a video of my assault spread online, turning me into a target of vicious gossip. "She's the woman who got it on with two guys in the wild!" "Kidnapped but so into it? What a freak!" "How does she even show her face? Shameless!" When I confronted my boyfriend about the video, he dodged the question and broke up with me. "I'm about to start at a top company. I can't be with someone so tainted." Heartbroken, I was pushed off a rooftop to my death. But when I opened my eyes, I was back on the day of the kidnapping, given a second chance to rewrite my fate.

I realized my period was two weeks late after going on a trip to the swimming pool with my best friend, Gianna Lowe. Gianna insisted that I take a pregnancy test. I was stunned when I saw the two red lines on the pregnancy stick test. I had a boyfriend, Mitchell Gray, but I was a conservative person, so I still hadn't slept with Mitchell. I couldn't help but wonder whose baby this was. I planned to just terminate the mystery pregnancy, but Mitchell pretended to be worried about my health, offering to marry me and raise the child. It was finally my delivery date. I was lying weakly in the delivery room when Mitchell shoved a pillow over my face and smothered me, roaring, "You slut! Did you think I'd raise another man's child? I'll make you and this illegitimate child pay for everything!" I was too weak to resist since I had just given birth, so Mitchell successfully killed me. I suddenly open my eyes and realize that I have returned to the day I found out about my pregnancy. I am completely determined this time—I have to find out who the father really is!

On Father's Day, I received a heartwarming gift. My one-year-old son called me Dad for the first time. But moments later, he convulsed, foamed at the mouth, and died before we could reach the hospital. My wife was shattered, and I was devastated. The doctors couldn't identify the cause of his death. Three years later, my wife emerged from her grief, and we welcomed our second child. But the moment this child called me Dad, they, too, died instantly. To spare her further pain, I suggested adoption. Yet, even our adopted children met the same fate. Unable to bear the losses, my wife divorced me. Everyone said I was cursed, never meant to be a father. Defiant, I remarried and had another child, vowing never to let them call me Dad. For years, we adhered to this rule. But when our daughter turned four, she came home from preschool, eager to celebrate Father's Day. Holding a card, she read aloud, "Dad."

Quentin Quandt—Shane Fuchner's uncle—killed himself. After he died, someone found a drawer stuffed with unsent love letters. Every single one had my name on it. So when life hit rewind and Mom asked if I wanted to marry Shane, my childhood friend, I said no. I picked Quentin. Here's the thing—I got reborn. Last time, I chose Shane. Huge mistake. He was hardly ever home after we got married. And when I started bleeding from a miscarriage, he ditched me because Ceryn Schuck—his first love—texted, [The power's out and I'm scared.] He didn't even hesitate. I died that night. So did the baby. And Shane? He didn't cry. Just whined that my death ruined his vacation plans with her. Then I woke up—right back at the moment Mom asked who I wanted to marry...

I found out my husband, Logan Atkinson, had quietly added his secretary's number to our family plan. [Dear customer, the number ending in 8848 has been successfully added to your family plan. Effective immediately, all calls between plan members are free.] I held up my phone and looked straight at Logan. "You're treating her like family. What does that make me?" He sounded annoyed. "Regina said staying on the phone with me every night was getting expensive. If she's on the family plan, it doesn't cost anything. She's just used to saving money. Don't read into it." Regina said she had severe depression and couldn't fall asleep, so Logan stayed on the phone with her every night for at least seven hours. I stared at the call logs in the family plan. Even on our wedding anniversary, when I closed my eyes, wishing we would make it through another ten years and grow old side by side… He was still on the phone with Regina Dittman, coaxing her to sleep. When I didn't say anything, Logan looked a little surprised. "Wow. Quiet today? Finally learned how to be the bigger person?" I just didn't feel like arguing with them anymore. All those fights before had only proven one thing: he always chose Regina. After ten years in a broken marriage, it was time to set things straight.

My five-year-old daughter loved telling lies. I had taken her out to a simple school supplies run, but she yelled on the street that I was a human trafficker. Consequently, I nearly got arrested and taken to the police station. When we went home, she cried and threw herself in my husband’s arms to complain about me before I could say anything. “Dad, Mom wouldn’t buy me stationeries. She even hit me on the street!” I offered my husband an explanation. He heard me out, but I did not expect him to angrily slap me when I was finished. “Our daughter is only five. She can’t lie. Can’t you just put up with it?!” When I drove my daughter to school, she got down on her knees in front of me while the other parents were around. “Mom, please let me go to school. I don’t want to take naked photos for those guys.” When the teacher checked my phone, it was full of my daughter’s explicit photos. A mob of angry parents pushed me into the traffic, killing me. I could not figure out why my biological daughter would behave that way, even as I lay dying. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day when I was about to buy stationery for my daughter.

In my past life, I was trafficked and gave birth to a son. When Noah Barrett turns six, I plan to take him and escape from the mountains. On my first attempt, I map out the route in advance and prepare to flee with him. But in the morning, my mother-in-law, Ruth Whitaker, blocks me at the door. She ties me up and locks me inside the shed. Then, she starves me for three days. On my second try, I secretly buy sleeping pills from an unlicensed village doctor and slip them into dinner. At the table, Ruth flips the table without hesitation and beats me until I am half dead. The third time, I take advantage of a village meeting and escape with Noah again. We hide in a concealed mountain cave. Neither of us makes a sound, yet Ruth finds us with ease. I am dragged back and locked away in the pigpen. Ruth takes a shovel and strikes me with it again and again. "You filthy bitch. You dare run off with my precious grandson!" Her eyes are bloodshot. With the final blow, she uses all her strength and smashes the shovel into my head. I collapse to the ground. My consciousness fades. My blood drains away, and I die. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day I plan to escape the mountains with Noah. Suddenly, I can hear Noah's thoughts, his voice clear and dripping with viciousness. "Mom can't be allowed to run. Grandma says Mom is our family's slave. She's supposed to serve us for her whole life."

For a decade, my world had been measured in laundry cycles, grocery lists, and the ever-growing pile of dishes in the sink. I was elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing the remnants of another family meal, when it happened. A sudden, silent cascade of text flickered at the edge of my vision, like subtitles for a movie only I could see: [Gosh, the heroine is so tragic. Her husband's entire family has been feeding on her luck like parasites!] [Her husband stole her graduate school admission and her career!] [The in-laws are literally siphoning her health away. No wonder she's always sick.] [And the sister-in-law took her "romance" stat! No wonder her love life is a desert.] [Heads up! Her husband's about to give her another "gift." Let's see how much more he takes from her this time.] My hands, clutching a greasy plate, froze. Right on cue, my husband, Tristan, sauntered into the kitchen. A smug, self-satisfied smile was plastered on his face as he took my wet hand. He slid a flimsy, garishly colored plastic bracelet onto my wrist. "Look what I got for you, sweetheart," he announced, his voice dripping with pride. "I made a special trip after work. Found it at the dollar store. It's romantic and economical, just like you always say you want. You love it, don't you?"

"Anya, I poured my heart and soul into that song three years ago. How could you accuse me of plagiarism?" On a variety show, the fake heiress broke down in tears. Without hesitation, I pulled out the music copyright certificate I had registered five years earlier. "Maybe learn a little law first. You're already infringing on my rights, Wendy."

After my hundredth disastrous blind date, my best friend and I made a bold decision: we would have children without husbands. She chose sperm from a brilliant PhD donor. I chose a donor with an eight-nation mixed heritage. Later, the PhD donor from Kingsford University was diagnosed with low sperm motility and decided he wanted to marry my friend, Melissa Shaw. She agreed. Whenever she saw me going to my prenatal checkups alone, Melissa would wrap her arm around her husband and mock me. "You're destined to be alone," she sneered. "You can't even find a man to marry you. My husband just launched a major national research project. His future is limitless." What she did not know was that the father of my child was the Prince of Dubaria. He took me back to his country and made me his princess. The jewels I wore were so heavy they practically weighed me down. However, after she saw the yacht I posted on social media, Melissa suddenly called me in tears. "I don't know what happened," she sobbed. "My husband's project was suddenly suspended. We can barely afford baby formula for our child." She said she wanted to make up and even asked if I would be her child’s godmother. However, the moment I stepped through her door, she raised a chainsaw and hacked me to death. "Why do you get to live a better life than me?" she screamed. "Just because you chose better sperm?!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my best friend and I first decided to have children without husbands.