Pulitzer Prize-winning Author

When the yacht was sinking, and only one spot was left on the lifeboat, Hendrix Zuckerman chose me. I was rescued, but Yana Bridgeton didn’t make it. She couldn’t wait for the second lifeboat and drowned in the ocean, her body lost forever. Hendrix pretended not to care and went through with our wedding as planned. For five years after our marriage, he trampled me into the dirt, blaming me for Yana's death. When I couldn't take it any longer and wanted a divorce, he decided to die with me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the yacht accident happened. This time, I’ve decided to give the chance to survive to the one he loves most.

I was with Don Massimo for five years. The whole time, he never hid his favorite: Cara. His driver’s daughter. The man who took a bullet for him. He called it paying a debt. Like a fool, I bought it. He gave her jewels. Fast cars. He even bought her a goddamn island. Three days before the wedding, I found out he'd moved the venue. Not to my family's estate in Sicily. But to the island. Her island. His excuse? Cara was claustrophobic. Couldn't handle a big indoor wedding. I was done. Three days later, the wedding happened on that island. But the bride was a no-show. Massimo was publicly humiliated. He tore the city apart looking for me. That’s when he found out. He thought he was marrying me. Instead, I married his greatest enemy. Nikolai Volkov. The Godfather of the Russian Bratva. He ditched Cara. He ran to my family's estate and waited. Seven days and nights. With flowers, a ring, and a whole lot of begging.

Shattered by a devastating heartbreak and the near loss of a loved one, Jennifer Andrea makes a desperate choice—signing a contract marriage with a faceless stranger. But what seems like an escape soon becomes a deadly trap when she discovers her new husband’s chilling link to the man who destroyed her. Caught in a ruthless game of power and deception, she’s left questioning—was she chosen as the prize, or is she just another pawn in a dangerous scheme?

For three years, wolfless Wren Ashford endured a toxic dynamic with Alpha Silas Deveraux, who glorified her brokenness while keeping her on a leash of shame and possessive pleasure. But when Silas loses a devastating hockey game after five consecutive years of winning, his debt is paid in bodies—and Wren is the prime currency.

“Richard, if Lynn and I were hit by a car at the same time, who would you save first?” I once asked, curled up in his arms, teasing like a spoiled pup. He just scoffed, ruffling my hair. “That kind of situation doesn’t exist.” But when blinding headlights tore through the rain— He didn’t hesitate. He shielded Lynn in his embrace, and I was thrown into the blood-soaked street. Through the agony, I heard my phone buzz. A message from him: [What tantrum are you throwing now? Why didn’t you come to Moonstone today?] While the machines beeped beside me, I caught the sound of his gentle voice drifting from the next room—comforting her. “Don’t be afraid. I just reacted to the person closest to me.” That was the moment I wiped away bloody tears with a smile. Fine, Richard. Then you’ll watch with your own eyes—ten days from now, when I put on a wedding dress, it won’t be for you. It’ll be for your sworn enemy, the Alpha of Bloodmoon. On the eve of the ceremony, a helicopter thundered down onto the estate balcony. He kicked open my door, yanked my wrist with his tie. “Come with me.”

People used to say Pierce Voss, my husband, also the boss of the largest mafia in Kingsburg, and I were the kind of couple others envied. He once lit fireworks across the entire coastline just to celebrate my birthday. He bought me a private island because I mentioned loving the ocean. He made the entire mafia respect me as the most esteemed woman in the world. He shut every woman out of his world so I would never feel insecure. I thought our love was unbreakable. After ninety-nine rounds of IVF, I finally got a positive result. I was so happy I couldn’t sleep the whole night, planning to surprise him at our tenth-anniversary party the next day. But instead, I cut into our wedding cake and found Lena Young’s pregnancy report hidden inside. She fell to her knees in front of everyone, sobbing. “Serena… I have cancer. I don’t have long. Please… let me stay with Pierce for whatever time I have left. Give my child a name.” The room erupted, with gasps, whispers, cruel amusement. And in an instant, the woman Pierce Voss had supposedly adored became the laughingstock of the entire Kingsburg city. The love I had been so proud of shattered like cheap glass. Clutching my own pregnancy report, I held back my tears and prepared to walk away with my baby, far from his world, far from the lies. But before I could escape, someone framed me for harming her. I was thrown into detention for three days. And in those three days, I lost my child. Pierce Voss lost me, and every last piece of love I ever had for him. No matter how desperately he begs later, there is no returning to who we used to be.

I was different from the others in my pack. My wolf could hear the truths hidden deep in someone’s heart. Whenever someone lied, she would immediately whisper their real thoughts to me. During the two years I was with Jace, my wolf stayed silent. I knew his love for me was real. But on the day before our marking ceremony, my wolf finally spoke. "I need to stall Leah tomorrow. I have to mark Elena." "Elena's pregnant. She has to be marked to be accepted by the pack. Leah loves me too much to blame me." My hand tightened around the pregnancy test tucked deep in my bag. A cold dread swept over me. Jace, I was pregnant too. But I wouldn't tell you. I played along with his plan, pretending I didn't know the truth. I let him make Elena his mate, father to her pup. After their ceremony, all he'd find was the discarded pregnancy test I left behind. His heir and I would be gone from his world—forever.

Our seventh wedding anniversary. I sat at the dining table—alone. My phone buzzed, lighting up with two messages. First, from Tom: [Working late at the office tonight.] Second, anonymous: [Tom is incredible. Can you even keep up?] Attached was a picture of him, lips locked with a woman I didn't recognize. I blew out the candles on the anniversary cake. Eyes shut, I typed back: [Let's divorce.]

After five years of marriage, my wife’s childhood friend posted a photo of a property deed in his social media circle with the caption, [Thank you, Miss CEO, for transferring the house to me.] I was stunned when I saw the address on the deed—it was my home. Confused, I left a comment. [?] Almost immediately, my wife, Alice, called and scolded me. "He’s a single dad, so pitiful! I only transferred the house to his name to make it easier for his daughter to attend school. It doesn’t affect us living there. How can you be so heartless and lack even a shred of compassion?" In the background, I could hear her childhood friend complaining bitterly. Half an hour later, he posted on social media again and tagged me. This time, he showed off a $150,000 sports car with the caption, [Paid in full! As the saying goes, where a woman spends her money is where her heart lies.] I knew it was my wife who bought him the car to make up for upsetting him. But this time, I’ve made up my mind—I’m filing for divorce.

My stepbrother hated me. He hated me and my mom for coming into his life, for ruining what he believed was his perfect family. Whenever he saw me, his face would turn cold, and he would tell me how disgusting I was, asking cruelly when I was going to die. In the end, I gave him what he wanted. But then he regretted it. He cried, begging me to come back, saying he never should have broken up with me and never should have treated me so cruelly. But I was already dead. Who was he putting on this show of affection for now?