Re Reading

Three months after fleeing my wedding, I unexpectedly ran into my ex-fiancé at a high-society gathering in the capital. Out of the blue, someone asked me, "Teresa, I saw on social media that you're getting married again?" "Ms. Carter, when can we celebrate your big day?" Smiling confidently, I replied, "Next month." In an instant, everyone began congratulating me and Daniel. After all, everyone knew he had been my fiancé. After the party, Daniel cornered me, his tone sharp. "You're the one who ran away from the wedding, and now you're the one rushing to get married? Do you think this is funny?" I found his reaction amusing. Fixing him with an icy stare, I said with a faint smirk: "Who said my new groom is you?"

My fiancé, Skyler Grant, barges into the art gallery where my work is being exhibited and trashes the place. "You plagiarized Leah's work and pushed her to jump off a building! I can't believe you have the gall to have an exhibition here! I have to seek justice for her!" He sets the gallery on fire, leading to stray glass shards damaging my eyes. I'm tormented by the pain of losing my work and vision when Leah Rivers returns. She says indifferently, "It was April Fool's yesterday, and I was just fooling around. You're not mad at me, are you?" I charge at her hysterically, but Skyler shields her. "They're just some canvases—so what if they're gone? You can paint them again." He has no idea that I'll never paint again.

Issue d’une famille recomposée, Chantelle a grandi en marge, élevée avec amour par sa grand-mère après la mort de sa mère. Écartée par son père Gérard, dominé par sa nouvelle épouse Rhonda, et reléguée derrière Mégane, sa demi-sœur prétentieuse, elle a appris à survivre dans le silence. Lorsque sa grand-mère tombe gravement malade, un diagnostic sans appel bouleverse son quotidien. N’ayant ni soutien familial ni ressources suffisantes, Chantelle accepte une proposition inattendue : 100 nuits contre un million d’euros, avec un homme riche, dont elle ne connaîtra jamais l'identité. À chaque rencontre, l’homme porte un masque, garde le silence, et ne lui laisse que des transferts bancaires anonymes et un parfum entêtant comme souvenir. Un jour, contrainte par son père de participer à un dîner familial, Chantelle découvre avec stupeur le fiancé de Mégane : Collen Wilkerson, PDG froid et inaccessible du puissant groupe où elle travaille comme simple employée. Dès leur rencontre, elle est troublée. Un détail la foudroie : son parfum. C’est exactement celui de l’homme masqué avec qui elle a partagé douze nuits et il en restait quatre-vingt-huit.

She: "10,000,000＄. We're done. Just don’t let my husband find out." The call boy took the black card, frowning. She: "Not enough? You're good, but don’t push it." He dressed, leaving behind a cold warning—"You'll regret this😡!" A week later, she knelt before the Lycan King🐺, begging for a divorce ruling. And there he was. Her call boy. Sitting on the throne. He: "(Smirking) Uh-huh😈?"

“This is wrong. You’re supposed to help me fix my marriage” “And yet here you are, squirming under my hands like you're begging me to break it” “You're too close… I can’t think straight when you’re this close” “Then stop thinking. Just feel.” He leans in, his breath brushing against my lips. “Tell me to stop Lillian—and I will. But if you don’t, I’m going to kiss and claim your body like I’ve imagined a thousand times on that chair” *~*~*~*~*~*~*~* When Lillian Calloway walks into marriage counseling, she’s desperate—not just to save her crumbling relationship with her emotionally distant husband, but to hold together the image of a perfect life. Then she meets Dr Ronan Carter. Calm, devastatingly handsome and far too familiar for her comfort. Each session unravels more than just the crack in her marriage—it exposes desires she’s locked away for years. Ronan makes her feel alive. And when the professional lines begin to blur, Lillian finds herself stepping on the edge of something forbidden. He’s her counselor. She’s his client. Falling for each other will cost them everything. But what if the biggest lie was the marriage they were trying to save?

My brother, Theo Sorento, died in a plane crash on his way back home just to celebrate my birthday. They never found his body—only wreckage. Ever since, my parents forced me to kneel in front of his grave every year on my birthday, demanding that I repent for surviving when he didn’t. Then came my eighteenth birthday. I realized someone was following me. Panicked, I sent a few messages asking for help. Just then, Mom called, not to check on me but to lash out. “I know exactly what you're doing. You’re just making up excuses so you don’t have to kneel in front of your brother’s grave! You’re a liar. Why wasn’t it you who died instead of him? You’re a walking curse!” Before my phone was smashed under a boot, the last thing I heard was the cold click of her hanging up. Then, I was cut up into pieces, and what was left of me was tossed across the city. My father, the lead forensic pathologist on my case, didn’t even recognize me. Later, Theo returned alive with his wife, whom he had eloped with eight years ago. When they found out the pile of rotting flesh was me, they all went insane.

Deux mois après ma mort, mes parents, dans leur indifférence habituelle, se sont enfin souvenus que j’avais disparu quelque part au retour d’un voyage. Mon père, avec son éternelle impatience, a froncé les sourcils : « Je ne lui ai pas seulement demandé de revenir à pied, qu’est-ce qu’elle a à faire une scène comme ça ? » Mon frère, toujours aussi détaché et cynique, m’a envoyé un message sur son téléphone, un émoji suffisant accompagné d’un texte froid et sans âme : « Tu ferais bien de rester morte là-bas, sinon la fortune de ma grand-mère sera la mienne, et celle de Léa. » Je n’ai pas répondu. Qu’aurais-je pu dire de toute façon ? Ma mère, elle, a grimacé et a lâché d’un ton dur : « Dis-lui que si elle arrive à temps pour la fête d’anniversaire de sa grand-mère, je ne reviendrai pas sur le fait qu’elle a délibérément poussé Léa dans l’eau ! » Ils n’ont jamais cru que je n’étais pas sortie de ce sous-bois. Alors, après un temps, ils ont commencé à y creuser. Et c’est ainsi qu’ils ont fini par retrouver mes os, éparpillés au fond des bois...

Do you think you're worthy of me?" Maverick spat out ruthlessly, "You're just a weak human, and you're not worthy of being my future Luna. You should just go and die!" —- Jolene had always been eager for her chosen mate until she discovered that her mate was Maverick, the alpha's son. He rejected her because she was a weak human, unlike the other strong females. As if that wasn't enough, Jolene also discovered that her parents weren't her real parents. Discovering that everything about her life was a lie, Jolene decided to commit suicide. Maybe if she died she would find comfort, but what if there was a new turn of fate after she opened her eyes? Why are they calling her princess? Did they just reveal to her that she'd be the next Lycan King?

Triplet Alphas and one Omega, the fun is about to begin. Rainee is an Omega and her life is a sudden mess as she is being accused of stealing from her company, she loses her job, her house and now she's dead broke. She has no other option than to go to her step brothers for help. she's dreading the very idea of living with them under one roof because of how they had bullied her for years, but now they're different, now they're hot and attractive young men, now they're Alpha Kings...now all they want to do is unclothe her and show her what real pleasure is. Unknown to her, she is fated to be their mate. Before her arrival they came together with a plan on how to torture her but now she's here in their arms, all they want is to fuck her without scaring her away. NOT FOR ANYONE UNDER 18

My husband, Matthew Glover, fabricates a scandal to help his childhood sweetheart, reporter Melanie Reed, boost her numbers. "Mrs. Glover Sleeps Around—Multiple Affairs Lead to Repeated Miscarriages." He uses it as a gimmick to grab attention. Next thing I know, my name's in the mud and the internet's tearing me to pieces. When I bring up divorce, Matthew says I'm blowing things out of proportion. "Melanie just started at the TV station. If she doesn't deliver, her coworkers will laugh at her. You're just doing her a favor. It's not like you're actually losing anything." I don't even bother arguing with him. I simply push the divorce agreement toward him. "If you want to help her, go ahead. But we're getting divorced!"