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When I return to my hometown for the holidays, my brother-in-law, Tyler Atwood, has completely forgotten to hide his latest social media post from me. "Ugh, Arlene is really vain! Her room is filled with useless things like figurines and dolls! They are such an eyesore! "My daughter wants to play with them, and yet Arlene claims that those figurines are limited-edition. Since she refuses to let Celeste play with them, she can forget about keeping them!" Tyler even starts chatting with the commenters in the comment section. "Once we're done with Christmas dinner, I'll lock the door and let Celeste smash everything she sees there. If they break, I'll just claim that Celeste doesn't know any better. What, is Arlene going to take what a five-year-old does seriously? "When the time comes, I'll just guilt-trip her and cry even louder. Let's see who my in-laws will help by then!" As soon as I park the car in the courtyard, I hear loud smashing noises coming from the second floor. My niece, Celeste Atwood, screams excitedly at the top of her lungs. "That meanie's things are all dead now! I'm going to break them all!" That's when Tyler welcomes me at the door with a fake smile plastered on his face. "You're back, Arlene! Celeste is helping you clean your room at the moment. She really is a nice kid. She knows that you like things clean, so she insists on cleaning your room for you."

After ten years away from his family, Marc Fairmonth returned home. But his homecoming was the beginning of his disaster. Ten years was enough to transform the spoiled little girl he once loved into a beautiful teenager. Cassandra Armeta has never forgotten the figure of Uncle Marc in her life. She always looked forward to Marc's return. For her, Marc was the first love of her life. A forbidden love story that never should have happened. Could their love be united?

On the tenth year of being bonded to my mate, Alpha Lucian Blackwood finally returns to my side. He no longer calls out his puphood sweetheart, Sadie Marrock's name in his sleep. He no longer forces me to shift into my wolf form and go hunting right after my labor just because Sadie wants to drink deer blood. Even my son, Conan Blackwood, who's always disliked me, begins to kiss up to me by nuzzling against my leg. The entire pack is flying with rumors of the Alpha finally realizing what he actually wants. They think I'll be the happiest Luna ever. I thought I'd be happy as well. That is, until Lucian rejects Sadie's call for help and chooses to stay at home with me. After that, he pins me down and tries to kiss me on my lips. This is the first time in ten years Lucian wants to be intimate with me, but I instinctively tilt my head and avoid his kiss. Then, I push him away coldly. All traces of happiness vanish instantly. Angered by my behavior, Lucian roars, "Weren't you jealous of Sadie over the past ten years because of how well I treated her? Well, I'm only good to you now! What more do you want from me?"

I've been in a secret marriage with my CEO husband, Mitchell Clayton. But Mitchell keeps making our son, Aster Clayton, call him "Uncle Mitch" the whole time. In order to make it up to Aster, Mitchell has given him unlimited wealth. But on the day of Aster's birthday, Mitchell hands over the gift that Aster has been eagerly looking forward to the most to his ex-girlfriend's daughter, Stacy Padilla. The gift is a bouquet of flowers made of handmade lucky stars that I've spent half a year folding. As I stare at the empty table, I feel my heart sinking to the pits of my stomach. Then, I call a real estate agent immediately. "Hello, I'd like to purchase a villa that's located in Northern Yewrope. Make it quick." "A villa? Mr. Clayton's secretary never brought it up to me before. Have you gotten it all mixed up, ma'am?" "No," I reply in a low tone. "I'd like to purchase the villa under my own name. If you breathe a word about this to Mitchell, I'll sue your company under the reason of leaking your clients' privacy." After receiving a positive response from the agent, I end the call. Still, I remain rooted to the spot for a long time. Once I return to the banquet hall, Aster tugs at the hem of my dress. "Mom, where's Uncle Mitch? He promised me that he'd attend my birthday party." I feel tears stinging my eyes as I pull Aster into a hug. "Sweetie, he will never be here. Let's not wait for him anymore, okay? Mommy will bring you to a better place." Stars will cover the sky there. None of them will get stolen ever again. As for a certain father who keeps breaking his promises, he will never get to see us ever again.

As soon as I get off the surgical table after my miscarriage, my husband, Presley Quinn, sends me a text message. "You were ten cents short when you paid your share of the power bill this month. Transfer the money to me immediately." I can only sit on the cold bench in the hospital on my own. The anesthesia has yet to wear out, but my belly is already hurting so much that I can practically feel it constricting on itself. The next thing I know, a new post appears on my social media homepage. It's a post made by Vivienne Ashford, the intern Presley is in charge of tutoring. In the photo, Vivienne can be seen holding a bouquet of flowers folded from money bills. A bright and radiant smile blooms on her face. The four-leaf clover necklace adorning her neck is the same necklace I've seen in Presley's purchase history two days ago. The caption of the photo writes, "I don't want a lot of money. I want a ton of love instead." Only then do I remember that today is Valentine's Day as well as my fifth-year anniversary with Presley. Over the past five years, Presley and I have been splitting every single bill, down to two decimal places. If I take a shower for more than 20 minutes, Presley demands that I pay extra for the water heater's power bill. When I cook myself some supper in the middle of the night, Presley wants me to split the gas bill generated by the stove. Even when my mom is hospitalized due to kidney failure and is waiting for her surgical bills to be settled, Presley refuses to lend me a single cent. Instead, he sends me a few links leading to web loans. As I stare at the social media feed, I chuckle all of a sudden. It turns out that Presley does know how to spend money. It's just that he doesn't have the heart to spend it on me. I smile once again as I leave a like on the post. Then, I transfer the ten cents to Presley. From now on, I don't owe him any single penny.

I'm the top salesperson at a tutoring center. Payday comes, and my commission is 50 cents. I'm so furious that I march straight to my boss to demand answers, but his secretary, Sasha Watson, steps in front of me. She digs through her pocket, pulls out 50 cents, and flicks it straight at my face in front of everyone. "Here's your 50 cents!" My ears ring. Heat crawls up my neck and into my skull. "Ms. Watson, this has to be a mistake. I closed 1.5 million dollars on my own last month. My team pulls in over three million dollars. My commission should be at least 200 grand." Sasha rolls her eyes. She reaches into her wallet, pulls out a dollar bill, and slaps it against my cheek. "Stop barking! Fine, I'll throw you a dollar. Keep the change!" I'm about to lose it. "My mom is still waiting on that 200 grand for her surgery. Without it, she could die." The coworkers around us start whispering. "50 cents? For the top salesperson? That's insane!" "Lower your voice. She's the boss's niece! What she says goes. Unless you want to get fired, pretend you didn't hear anything." I turn away, pull out my phone, and dial our biggest competitor. "I'm in. Five million dollars a year."

Karen had invested her last penny in the business she had recently established and was eagerly awaiting the promised funds from her benefactor to take it to the next level. "Maybe he forgot. I should remind him," she thought, and promptly sent a text message: ‘I hate to sound desperate, but my finances are tight.’ After sending the message, she realized she had used the wrong number. She quickly started typing, ‘Please ignore the...’ when an alert popped up on her phone: ‘Five billion dollars transferred to you by Roger Dawson.’ Roger? The first name sent a chill down her spine, but the last name left her puzzled. "Roger? Could it be Tonia's bodyguard?" That was his number, but when did his name change? Her phone rang immediately, and the name she had feared for months echoed in her ears, his voice filled with emotion yet calm like a winter breeze. "Karen, stay put, I'm on my way to you." The call ended before she could process it. He was the reason she had fled, refusing to sign the divorce papers. Her love for him was unrequited, his heart belonging to her adopted sister, but what hurt more was the feeling of being traded between friends like a commodity. She would rather die than return.

On the night of the full moon, my mate, Alpha Wade Rizzotto of the Bloodmoon pack, has sent someone to deliver me a box of gifts. He also has the wolf bring me a message, stating that he'll be home tonight. Warmth floods into my heart. Even though Wade is extremely busy with work and hasn't been able to meet me in person for half a year, he still cares about me and our unborn pup. Giddily, I begin preparations on dinner while eagerly anticipating Wade's return. But as soon as Wade steps into our home, I instantly pick up on a foreign yet strong scent of a she-wolf clinging to his form. My wolf's instincts flare up instantly. Having sensed my suspicion, Wade gently comforts me in order to suppress my uneasiness and doubt. But the she-wolf's scent that's obviously not mine keeps bothering me the whole time. I remember the way Wade began putting more distance between us over the past six months. Doubt and suspicion begin taking over my mind like mad. Throughout the week after that, I stalk Wade every day. Still, I can't spot anything that's off with him. So, I begin consoling myself, thinking that I must have gotten far too sensitive during my pregnancy. Maybe the hormones are affecting my wolf's senses, making me paranoid. I've decided that from tomorrow onward, I will not stalk Wade ever again. But that's when the Moon Goddess plays a cruel prank on me.

My sister pulled a knife during a robbery attempt, and we got into a brutal fight. My mom, an auxiliary police officer, arrived at the scene but totally ignored my injury. As I lay in a pool of blood, begging for help, she just cradled my sister and yelled at me, "You're so desperate for attention that you'd hurt your sister? How did I raise a heartless monster like you?" She branded me as the aggressor, ignored my pleas, and rushed my sister, who had mere scratches, to the hospital. I was left alone to die miserably in that deserted alley. When the news of my death arrived, my mother dismissed it as another one of my lies, pointing at my body and demanding I get up to apologize to my sister.

Cara Bennett has exactly three rules. Never ask for help. Never show weakness. And never, under any circumstances, trust a man with money. At twenty-four, she is surviving — barely. Waitressing double shifts in London to keep the lights on and her mother's medical bills from swallowing her whole. No savings. No backup plan. No room for mistakes. Then she spills coffee on Ethan Blackwood. He is cold, impossibly wealthy, and used to people falling over themselves to please him. So when Cara walks away without a single apology, he notices. And when his dying grandfather threatens to strip him of everything he has built unless he presents a fiancée within six weeks, Ethan does something he has never done before. He makes her an offer she cannot refuse. Six weeks. One performance. £500,000. Cara tells herself it is simple. Smile at his family. Wear the ring. Take the money. Walk away. But Ethan's family is nothing like she expected. Warm. Genuine. The kind of people who make her forget this was never real. And Ethan himself is nothing like the cold man he pretends to be. The problem isn't pretending to love him in front of his family. The problem is stopping when the six weeks are over.