Read Like A Historian Novels & Stories

At seventeen, Tiana’s world shatters when a cruel twist of fate forces her into marriage with Nikolai Toriaga — the arrogant heir to a billion-dollar coffee empire and the same boy who made her life hell in high school. For eight long years, she endures the cold silence and lovelessness of the Toriaga household. But in secret, Tiana earns a PhD in Business Administration and quietly becomes a billionaire, investing her allowance in cryptocurrency and major company shares. When Nikolai’s father dies, Tiana assumes the marriage is over. The man who forced it is gone, and so is the reason for Nikolai to stay. Her fears are confirmed when he shows up to the funeral with a world-famous model on his arm, while Tiana remains his estranged wife. Determined to reclaim her life, she steps into the spotlight, taking a job at Lancaster Group — a global chocolate brand — and reconnects with Ryan Lancaster, a former classmate who once secretly adored her. She expects the long-overdue divorce papers, but instead, Nikolai starts coming home… watching her, wanting her. When she finally confronts him, he fiercely responds, “There’s no way we’re getting a divorce, Tiana.”

In the fifth year of my marriage to Cyrus Shields, I fell ill. Sparing no cost, he said that he would find the most compatible donor for me. A week before the surgery, I was knocked out by medication. When I woke up, I touched my hair only to feel a smooth, bare scalp. Florence Grant stood there holding a pair of clippers, her eyes gleaming gleefully. She said, "Gayle, since you're about to have surgery anyway, I thought I'd help shave it off for you." But a bone marrow transplant never required shaving one's head. "Who told you you could do that? That was my hair!" I roared, trembling with rage. Cyrus pushed the door and entered at that moment, saying, "Florence is still young. She's just a little bit mischievous. Gayle, don't make such a huge fuss over it." He paused and looked at me with a complicated gaze before saying, "Besides, she's the one donating her bone marrow to you."

"Tell me, Mr Blue. Was it worth it? Is it worth it? Will it be worth it?" It wasn't and it never will be. Not in Erin's eyes tinted blue. Not in the eyes of the hopeless young man doomed to the clutches of fate; doomed to eternal pain. Did beauty lie between the cracks of fate? Does the Moon know of the Sun who died every night to let the Moon breathe? Erin, a poor, hospital bound boy just wants to be like everyone else, to love someone. Every day, he escapes to the virtual world with his wings of freedom, creating his own reality where things goes the way he wants. That world gave him a real, painless body, with infinite possibilities. Life got that much harder when, Uriel, a rich boy enters this realm and steals Erin’s world. The man who says the ugliest of words with the smoothest of tones. Does he help Erin, or dig him deeper? OR Erin wanted love and got pain instead. Things changed, and so did Uriel. INCLUDES: futuristic virtual reality, Persian mythology (minor), romance, sci-fi, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, rich/poor dynamic, mythology, distance, cold families, battles, quests, stars and moon metaphor. WARNING: includes mentions of depression, swearing, and sexually explicit content.

During the five years that Sophie Lord was married, she had been continuously doing IVFs and was finally able to become pregnant with Luke Shaw’s child. That same day, she saw Luke at the hospital with his secretary, Helen Jones. He was accompanying her for a pregnancy test. Sophie was devastated and asked Luke to choose between her and the child in Helen’s womb. “Let’s not make a fuss, Sophie. I’ll explain everything to you when I get back. You need to calm down first. I’m keeping this child no matter what.” He carefully supported Helen as they left, but what he didn’t see was the blood trickling down Sophie’s legs. Later on, when Sophie disappeared from Luke’s life, the latter brought down completely.

"I'll accept the hospital's offer. I leave for Italvia in two weeks." Vanessa Jahn stood by the window, pregnancy report in hand. On the other end of the call, Rob Lambert, the hospital director, sounded thrown. "Wait—what? After all this time? I've been trying to get you on board for years." She let out a humorless laugh. "Guess it finally felt like time for a change. Anyway, I've got a lot to wrap up before I go. We'll catch up later." She hung up. The ache in her heart lingered as she glanced back down at the report.

As I casually opened the online forum, a trending post at the top caught my eye. [Share the wildest thing you’ve ever done.] I clicked on the second comment, which seemed to contain just one line. [Without a doubt, it was the night before my buddy’s wedding when I had his wife come over for a “quality check.”] However, the poster kept adding to the thread. [That night, the woman tricked that idiot into thinking it was a bachelorette party, but she actually spent the whole night at my place. [She said she didn’t want to sleep with just one man forever and needed one last wild night before tying the knot. [By the end of the night, her throat was nearly raw from all the screaming. [We kept going until sunrise, right there in the wedding car her husband was supposed to pick her up later that day.] [Not only that, but even after they got married, this fool kept bringing his wife over to my place for dinner. [He’d help me in the kitchen while I pinned his wife against the fridge and kissed her. [He’d be glued to the game in the living room while his wife knelt in the bathroom and took care of me. [One time, when he passed out drunk on my couch, his wife and I had our own fun on the carpet beside him. [Every time he rolled over, we’d both jump. It was the thrill of knowing we could get caught at any moment.] The image loaded, revealing the familiar interior of the wedding car. The lucky charm I had given my wife dangled from the rearview mirror. My fingers momentarily stiffened, and I nearly dropped my phone. A wave of nausea rolled in my stomach as a chill crept up my spine. Just then, a hand appeared in my field of vision, waving in front of me. “Calvin, what are you zoning out for? You’re at my place, and you’re still on your phone. Come on. Dig in while it’s hot.” Wyatt Preston, my friend, grinned at me. Yet, his eyes kept straying toward my wife, Queenie Jennings, who was sitting beside me.

My roommate had a peculiar knack for pestering everyone into liking her posts on social media, all so she could collect enough likes to claim some prize or another. It was her way of life—nagging, nudging, and guilting us into clicking that little thumbs-up. One time, the campus beauty queen liked my roommate's ad for a facial mask. Not long after, she was in a horrific car accident. The vehicle caught fire, and her face suffered severe burns, leaving her disfigured beyond recognition. Meanwhile, my roommate seemed to undergo a miraculous transformation, her complexion turning porcelain fair and flawless as though she'd been kissed by the heavens. Then there was the academic prodigy, a shoe-in for graduate school, who liked her tutoring service post. Shortly after, he was exposed for academic fraud, and his once-brilliant reputation was reduced to ashes. Strangely enough, my roommate's research paper suddenly won an award, catapulting her to fame and fortune. And me? I fell into her trap too. I liked her rental agency ad, and before I knew it, my world crumbled. A scandal erupted, revealing that I was the result of a mix-up at birth. It turned out she was the long-lost child of wealth and privilege—a hidden gem cast into the rough, now reclaimed by her rightful family. As for me, I was packed off to the countryside village she had escaped from and forced into a brutal marriage with an old man. My life became a living hell, and eventually, I died there, broken and forgotten. But fate wasn't done with me yet. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day my roommate begged me to like her post in exchange for yet another prize.

During my wedding, which is livestreamed all over the world, my fiancé, Marvin Keller, calls me a shameless woman who's gotten pregnant out of wedlock. Then, he calls off our engagement and marries my father's illegitimate daughter, Delilah Lambert. My mother is so incensed by this that she gets a stroke and ends up bedridden. Amid my despair, my childhood friend, Tristan Wright, proposes. He tells me he's had a crush on me for many years and is willing to treat my child with Marvin as his own. I'm moved by Tristan's promise and accept his proposal. Three years after we get married, I give birth to a stillborn. My mother is still in a coma and doesn't seem like she'll ever wake up. I'm hospitalized after getting into an accident for the eighth time. That's when I overhear Tristan's conversation with a private doctor. Finally, I discover the truth—he's never loved me. "You orchestrated eight accidents just to make sure Delilah would inherit her family's fortune? Are you out of your mind?" "I've done Lethia wrong with this, but I'll use the rest of my life to atone for my sins. She should be satisfied with that."

I stumbled upon my neighbor Henry and his girlfriend in the middle of something awkward. My face immediately flushed bright red, now that I had just turned eighteen. With my parents away on a business trip, they had asked Henry to keep an eye on me. But in the dead of night, I discovered him involved in something... something too awkward to mention.

> “Stay still, Little Thorn… I want to taste you slowly.” His voice was velvet and ruin. His mouth, a weapon. And I—fool that I was—leaned closer. Before death wore a suit and called itself a lover, I used to believe in beauty. Before the blood. Before the runes. Before I painted the image that killed my parents—I believed my art could save me. Now I know better. I was just weeks from graduating when the painting came to me like a fever. I didn’t choose it. I didn’t plan it. My hands moved, possessed, dragging symbols I’d never seen and a face I’d never forgotten—his. Eyes red as wine. A crown pierced with thorns. And a girl in the center… me. Offering herself. I signed it with a mark I didn’t recognize. I sold it to a stranger. And days later, my parents were dead—no wounds, no reason, just... gone. The police said stress. I say fate. Now I’m being hunted by a world I didn’t know existed. Vampires with ancient courts and older grudges. Symbols that whisper in my blood. And Lucien D’Aragon—the vampire who says I summoned him with my brushstroke. That I belong to him. He says I’m his prophecy. His ruin. His Little Thorn. But I’m not just prey. Something is waking in me. Something hungry. Something I was never meant to survive. If I give in, I lose everything. If I fight, I might finally learn the truth. About my art. About my bloodline. About what really happened that night. And why he keeps whispering that I was painted for ruin... but made for him.