Sam Fraser Fear Street

I had been married for five years, but my belly remained flat—no sign of a child. Then, on my 35th birthday, I suddenly found out I was pregnant. When I shared the good news with my husband, he flew into a rage. Instead of being happy, he accused me of carrying someone else's baby. Only then did I learn he had a mistress. He even claimed he wanted a "real" child—one that truly belonged to him—with her. I thought he was just being irrational and would eventually come to his senses. After getting an amniocentesis, I immediately brought him the paternity test results to prove the baby was his. He came home acting like a changed man—hugging me, kissing me, claiming that he didn't cheat on me. The very next day, he booked a hotel and threw a banquet, announcing to all our friends and family that he was going to be a father. However, when his mistress saw the news, she completely lost it. She showed up with a group of people, blocked me in the street, and—despite my pregnancy—started punching and kicking me. "You shameless woman! How dare you carry my man's child? Are you that desperate to die?"

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now—billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn’t mind. I’d crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That’s when it hit me—he didn’t love me. He didn’t even see me. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I’d ever made. Because my one-night stand isn’t just some random guy. He’s richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he’s not letting me go.

"Just join me for a drink perhaps?" Her bushy brows rose suggestively at me. She knew my answer, she knew what I'd say. I grabbed the bottle off her scrawny hands and said "You know, for a one time thing, this has become a regular." To be honest, I was actually looking forward to meeting up with her. Not that I was going to admit it to her face. "Like therapy sessions from two dumb, ill-favored kids. Who are trying to give each other easing words." She was right. Though her stumbled movements indicated a slight intoxication. Suddenly, out of the awkward moment, she looked up at me with a sad smile and said. "I might be a street girl but is it too bad to wish for a normal life? Go to proms? Have new clothes? Shelter? Love? Do I not deserve?" Her teary eyes searched deep into my soul. I was unaware of the lack of distance between us. When did we get so close with barely an inch barrier? "Flare..." that was all I could say because then all I could feel were soft lips against mine. Her lips! And it felt so nice. Subconsciously, I grabbed her little body and went for another kiss, this time, a deeper kiss.

A woman from a powerful vampire line meets her mate. She throws herself into loving him, only for him to betray her in the worst ways. Years later, she finds her second-chance mate and struggles to accept him. Will she be able to overcome the memories of her first mate to embrace her second chance at love, and embrace her second-chance, or will she let the fear of being hurt again keep her from finding her happily ever after?

“Look at me.” I didn’t. A finger slid beneath my chin and forced my head up. “I said look at me.” His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. The room felt smaller with him in it. Harder to breathe. Harder to think. “You don’t speak?” he asked softly. I shook my head. A slow smile touched his lips. “Good.” After betrayal stole her voice and the hospital stole her hope, she woke up in the back of a moving container… about to be sold. Dragged into Podolskaya territory… a city ruled by mafia bloodlines and silent brutality, she becomes property inside a fortress where fear is currency and mercy doesn’t exist. And at the center of it all stands Rai Mikalov. Cold, untouchable and dangerously observant He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t threaten. He simply decides. Unable to speak, and trapped in a world where weakness is hunted, she quickly learns one thing, silence can be a weapon. Or a death sentence. But Rai didn’t choose her by accident. And the reason why might be far more dangerous than being sold. In a world where fear feeds power and love is a liability… What happens when the most dangerous man in the room becomes obsessed with the one girl who cannot beg?

The last Phoenix shifter never takes risks, she had always lived in fear of the vampires, hidden in plain sight, but when four hot headed Dragon kings realise she is their mate, how will she fair? How will she ever please four mates at once? When her past enemy comes back for her, and haunts her present, will the dragons be able to protect her as promised? Will they love her unconditionally? How will the last Phoenix survive ?

Mia Nova is sold to the devil to clear her fathers debt. Luca Barone, known in whispered fear as Diavolo, doesn’t just collect money, he also collects souls. Luca expects to meet a broken Mia who will plead for her life with tears and vivid fear. Instead he meets a petty thief who fears nothing. She smiles when he threatens to sell her to men, and makes jokes about her breast size not being enough for these men. In Luca’s world, the biggest currency is fear, but it seems Mia is bankrupt. When she steps into Pandemonium, his secret lair where powerful men are undone, she becomes the queen of the night, raking in five hundred million dollars in her first night. They make a second deal. The freedom of her soul costs six billion dollars in the six months of her gracing the golden chair every night. A kiss seals the deal. That same kiss changes everything between them. He becomes possessive, and she wants to surrender to him, but the ghost of the woman who graced the chair before her, returns with a fire that is set to burn everything down. Mia must decide between running from the Devil who owns her, or staying with the man who no longer wants to.

Trisha is being haunted by her pasts she wanted to forget. They keep coming back and she knows she needed to face them in order to move on. But what if one of it makes her tremble with fear while the other one was with a mix of desire? Can she really escape them? What she doesn't know is that one is willing to protect her no matter what, even binding and branding her with the devil's possession to do so.

Power is always associated with trouble. Sometimes it is great enough to save us from trouble, sometimes it isn't. Sometimes it is so great that trouble can't get close and sometimes its greatness is the reason why trouble comes. Sometimes it's not about how you use it, sometimes it's about the power itself. The mere existence of a certain power could stir up fear, awe, hatred and envy depending on who percieved it and how they do.

I was holding my wife as we slept when her phone suddenly gave a special alert tone. “Rachel, my whole body hurts. Please help me…” The message was from Daniel. He sounded entitled, and he even attached a photo of his abs. My wife pushed me away at once. “Wait for me. I will head over right away.” I could not hold back my anger. “Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night, and you are going to see him? He’s your brother-in-law. Can’t you keep a bit of distance? “Your sister has been dead for half a year. Do you have to take care of him like this forever?” Rachel suddenly raised her hand and slapped me. “Sam, he has post-traumatic stress disorder. You already know that. I am his psychologist, so what is wrong with helping him? Why are your thoughts so filthy? “Forget it. I can’t talk sense into someone like you. Stay home and reflect on yourself.” After saying that, she did not look at me again. We had been married for five years. Every time we argued, she would walk away and give me the cold shoulder. She knew how much I loved her, so she hurt me without restraint. She was certain that I would ultimately give in and try to make peace. However, this time, I did not try to salvage the situation anymore. My heart was dead. I did not want her anymore.