Predator Writing Novels & Stories

Synopsis: His Beautiful Cage Logline: Zara thought she was a ghost in her own life. Luciano knew she was the key to a war that has been brewing for centuries. The Hook: When Zara is snatched from a rain-slicked alley, she expects a ransom demand. Instead, she gets a mansion of marble, reinforced glass, and a man whose gaze feels like a promise and a threat all at once. Luciano is cold, possessive, and dangerous—and he claims he is the only thing standing between Zara and a fate worse than death. The Conflict: Trapped in a "beautiful cage" where every movement is watched by cameras and every breath is monitored, Zara begins to realize her life in the city was a carefully constructed lie. As fragments of a forgotten past—bloody memories and a name that isn't hers—start to surface, the mystery deepens. Luciano isn't just a captor; he’s a man hiding the truth about a supernatural Council and an ancient Seal that is slowly breaking. The Stakes: Outside the mansion walls, shadows are moving. Figures stand in the darkness, waiting for a chance to reclaim what was lost. Inside, the tension between Zara and Luciano reaches a breaking point. Every time he whispers Mi Tesoro or Mi Piccola, the line between protector and predator blurs. Zara must decide: Is she a prisoner of Luciano’s obsession, or is she the bait for a trap that will burn both their worlds to the ground?

Zoya is a girl who comes from a high class home, but is more interested in writing and reading rather than her world that involves attending various business meetings or planned hangouts with Sami, who has been obsessed with her for years and would rather die than not have her. Then she meets Ivandor and she started to feel all she has never felt before. But there is a societal problem here, Ivandor is from the poorest of families and Sami would kill anyone who tries to come in between he and Zoya. And he succeeded, he got her, against her will, one that was disguised as betrayal from her part to Ivandor who didn't know her predicament. And when Ivandor is back, bigger and better, he's not just back for fun, he's back for revenge, to make all the people who spat and looked down on him bite their tongues. But when Sami finds out about all of these, war breaks out, as he would rather die than let any other man have Zoya whether she likes it or not. So sleeves gets rolled up and guns get cocked. Clashes, tears and deaths ensues, secret affairs arises, the eternal love rekindles and it starts to cause chaos and war that seems to never end.

After I secured early admission to one of the country's most prestigious universities, my old high school invited me back to sit for the State Scholars Exam and compete for the top statewide score. But just ten minutes into the math paper, the proctor out of nowhere accused me of cheating. "Everyone else starts with the multiple-choice section. You went straight for the proofs. Were you planning to copy someone else's answers later?" Before I could explain a single word, he dragged me into the boys' restroom. Not only was I humiliated and forced to strip, I also had to let him inspect me over and over again to confirm that I had no cheating devices on my body. After I returned to the exam room, I decided it was better not to cause more trouble, so I started from the multiple-choice section like everyone else. But less than five minutes after I sat down, he yanked me up again. "This is even more fake. You didn't even take time to read or think through the questions before writing down the options. If that isn't cheating, what is?" "I suspect you knew the answers in advance. I'm reporting this to the exam board right now and having your exam qualification revoked!"

My mom often makes an example out of someone when it comes to parenting. Unfortunately, I'm that someone, while my little brother, Raymond Nelson, benefits from it. Ever since I was four years old, my mom had been using this method. If Raymond breaks a bowl, I'm the one kneeling on the floor to pick up the pieces. If Raymond destroys something belonging to someone else, I'm the one writing the reflection report on his behalf. Mom tells me, "You're the older sister here. Since you can't keep your brother in line, you're the one at fault." But Raymond can never get rid of his bad habit of stealing and lying. When Franklin Harris, the owner of a grocery store, comes knocking on our door, Raymond points at me once again. "She was the one who stole your money!" In order to help Raymond get rid of this problematic habit of his, Mom decides to hand me over to the owner. "Sorry, Franklin. It's my fault for not raising my child well. I'll give my daughter to you. You can do whatever you want to her, be it scolding her or beating her up." Little does she know that I will never go home after Mr. Harris takes me away.

I watched Ryan die. So how is Ben wearing his face? Six years ago, I watched my best friend--and secret crush--splatter all over the pavement. He died. I saw him. Yet, in the back of my mind, I've never stopped looking for him. Seeing him in crowds, in the classroom, in my dreams--and my nightmares. It's cost me everything--my identity, my sanity, and maybe my life. So when I walk into class to see a man who looks exactly like Ryan standing before me, I freak out again. My therapist tells me to stay away from Ben. He's no good for me. I'll end up back in a padded room. But I have to know the truth. Is Ben really Ryan? That's not possible. But Ben has scars--real ones and metaphorical ones. If Ben is Ryan, why doesn't he just tell me? Is he trying to drive me crazy? Or worse--is he trying to kill me? The Boy Who Died is the first romantic suspense novel from bestselling romantacy author Bella Moondragon writing as B. Moon. If you love romantic suspense, are a fan of Colleen Hoover, Gillian Flynn, Christopher Greyson, or Paula Hawkins, you won't want to miss this page-turner!

The day I announced I was quitting writing, the entire internet celebrated. Everyone except my girlfriend's rumored boyfriend, the famous mystery author, Bryan Vega. In a short video, he looked genuinely regretful. "This is all a misunderstanding. I’ve always admired Kobi’s work, and I hope he’ll come back for the sake of his readers." I turned off my phone and ignored him completely. In my previous life, the web novel I wrote was identical to the mystery novel he published. People online called me a plagiarist and wished death on my whole family. I tried to defend myself, posting my drafts, outlines, and timestamps. Yet, it didn't matter. The last edit timestamp on his document was ten minutes earlier than mine. Just those ten minutes destroyed me. The messages never stopped. Strangers flooded my inbox with insults. Some even showed up at my house and threw paint on the walls. Years of nonstop harassment dragged me into depression. My parents tried to clear my name, but obsessed fans hunted them down and murdered them using methods copied straight from his novel. In the end, on the very day his book won a major award, I sealed my windows and burned charcoal, ending my life. And then, I opened my eyes again. I had returned to the day my new book was supposed to be released.

My fiancé was sleeping with my maid of honor. I caught them the night before our wedding. I didn't make a sound. I closed the door, walked back to my bridal suite, and sat at the vanity until my hands stopped shaking. Then I grabbed my keys. At two in the morning I drove forty blocks across Manhattan and knocked on Atlas Marchetti's door. Two years ago I'd told my family I wouldn't marry him. He hadn't said a word about it since. He opened the door in pajama pants. "Marry me tomorrow," I said. He didn't say yes. He poured himself a drink first, listened to everything, and then handed me a piece of paper with terms I should have read more carefully. I signed at dawn. Six hours later I walked down the aisle Carter and I had planned. The Plaza ballroom. The dress I'd chosen in spring. Three hundred guests who came to watch me marry the wrong man. I married someone else instead. Carter watched it happen. He didn't understand yet what he'd lost, and he wouldn't understand for months. Not until he found out who owned the company he ran, and how long Atlas had been bleeding it. I went to Atlas for revenge. He'd been writing this for two years.

For ten years, Xender Stormriven loved Tristan Blackmoor. For three years, he served as the Blackmoor Pack’s secret weapon—a master strategist known in the underworld only as "The Ghost." He played the role of the devoted, submissive mate, enduring Tristan’s coldness and the stinging scent of another wolf on his husband’s skin. He thought loyalty would eventually win Tristan’s heart. He was wrong. Caught in the act with his ex-lover, Tristan throws a divorce decree at Xender’s feet, choosing a "delicate" omega over the soldier who bled to keep his borders safe. He strips Xender of his title and kicks him out of the Blackmoor Pack House into the rain, calling him a "useless drain on the pack." But Tristan made one fatal mistake: He forgot that Xender wasn't just a discarded mate. He is the most feared architect in the Nightfall Territory. Now, the Blackmoor Syndicate is facing a multi-billion credit collapse, and there is only one man who can save them. When Tristan crawls to the legendary Moonshade Atelier to beg for help, he doesn't find a faceless contractor. He finds Xender—flanked by the world’s most powerful Alpha, Lucien Varkane, and looking ready to watch the Blackmoor empire burn. Xender is done playing the victim. In this mafia werewolf world, if you aren't the predator, you're the prey—and the Ghost has finally come to collect his debt.

BLURB The first time I looked into Kael Draem’s eyes, I knew he wasn’t a man made for happy endings. He wasn’t crafted from kindness or tenderness. He was a wolf carved from scars and ink, a predator whose heart beat only for power. And yet. When his gaze pinned me in that crowded hall, when his voice claimed me as though the word mine had been written into his very bones, my entire world shifted. Every instinct told me to run. To fight. To hate him for the chains he wrapped around me. But wolves are not creatures of reason. We are bound by instinct, by bond, by a pull stronger than any vow. I told myself I despised him. That I would never bend, never surrender, never let his hands brand my skin with ownership. But then there were nights when the fire between us burned too bright to deny. When the anger blurred into something sharp and breathless. When his lips hovered just above mine, and I hated him so much that it felt like hunger. Kael was chaos. He was violence. He was the darkness I swore I would never crave. And yet every time he touched me, every time he whispered in that low, ruthless voice that I belonged to him, the fragile walls around my heart cracked a little more.

Thirty days. One month. A single, heartbeat-stopping wager. Benjamin Parker was the sun. A golden-haired scholarship recruit with flour on his hands and a heart that he wore—vulnerable and beating—on his sleeve. He spent weeks chasing the school’s "Ice Prince," offering handmade tarts and a smile that could melt the coldest winter. He thought his persistence finally paid off when Jonathan Hayes—the obsidian-eyed, terrifyingly beautiful heir to a tech empire—pinned him against the school gates and claimed him in front of everyone. But the "Golden Romance" was a lie from the very first kiss. Jonathan didn't choose Benjamin because of his heart; he chose him because he was a convenient target for a cruel poker-room bet. The stakes? A vintage motorcycle. The duration? Thirty days of manufactured affection. Now, the countdown is ticking. Between the silk sheets of Jonathan’s penthouse and the shadows of the St. Jude’s library, the line between the game and reality is blurring. Jonathan is the predator who accidentally caught himself in his own trap, growing addicted to the very light he’s destined to extinguish. Benjamin is the lamb who is slowly realizing the wolf isn't just at the door—he’s in his bed. When the moon turns red and the thirty days are up, the truth will do more than just break Benjamin's heart. It will shatter his soul. One month of sweetness. A lifetime of ruin. In the game of hearts, the house always wins... and Jonathan Hayes never plays fair.