Sarah Ban Breathnach Books Mga Nobela at Kwento

My husband Preston smashed up the solo art show I'd spent three years building for Vivian, the poor girl we had sponsored through college. "Chloe! What the hell did you send Vivian?!" "She read your goddamn text and suffered a depressive episode! She nearly jumped off the rooftop!" I looked at his furious face and the whole thing struck me as absurd. "Preston. What exactly did I send? I told her that today was the opening of my show and asked her not to call you during it." "She's sick! Why do you have to make every little thing a fight! If anything happens to her because of you — I'll never forgive you." With that, he didn't even glance at me. He turned and bolted back out into the storm. I didn't cry. I didn't even have the energy to be furious. I turned to leave, but in the rain, I ran into Rowan—a classmate from college. He used to be the most popular guy at our school — sweet and hot. But now he was severely injured. The torrential rain had soaked his shirt, revealing his perfect abs beneath. Without hesitation, I took him back to my apartment. Preston showed up pounding on the door, eyes red with rage. "Chloe — I'm gone for an hour and you drag some guy off the street into our bed?" I sneered and stepped in front of Rowan. "If you can play free therapist to some other woman, why can't I try being a philanthropist?"

I lost my dear son, Henry, to a traffic accident. He had been on his way to one of his part-time jobs. Despite working a lot, my son was still a top scorer on the SATs. “Mom, I don’t want treatment,” he begged with his last breath. “I just want Dad.” In my despair, I called Matthew Foster, my husband, more than one hundred times, but he never answered. We had been married for eighteen years, but one day, he spent all of our savings in order to pay for the treatment of his deceased comrade’s son. That got us into a debt worth one million dollars. To help him pay for it, both Henry I and worked hard to earn money. My son went as far as working five part-time jobs a day! That accident cracked his head open and tore his stomach. He was in urgent need of money for treatment. Since Matthew was not responding, I had to leave Henry’s side to rush to his workplace, where I ended up hearing that he was throwing a party for someone else’s son because he had gotten into a prestigious school. “Mr. Foster gave Zack a seaside mansion, a luxury car, and a limitless black card in hopes that he will succeed in his future studies and have a smooth and healthy life.” As I watched my “poor” husband hug his comrade’s widow and son, I called him for the 101st time. “Henry wants to see you one last time.” “I’m busy right now, Wendy. Be good with Henry and wait a little while longer.” When Matthew hung up impatiently, I put down my phone in silence. I whispered, “Matthew, Henry can no longer wait for you.” At that moment, I decided that I was not going to wait for him anymore either.

After my parents died in a car crash, my cousin stole the compensation money and moved overseas to start a business. My aunt begged me on her knees not to call the police. Then, she locked me in a dark basement for three months. I was close to breaking down and ending my life when Julien Lawson, the neighbor’s son, broke down the basement door and saved me. “Joyce, what they did is unforgivable! They stole the compensation money for your parents’ deaths. You were going to use it to open your own studio! “Marry me. I’ll protect you.” He was the only person who cared about me after my parents died. I was so grateful that I married him and had his child. I worked three jobs during the day to help support the orphanage that Julien ran. At night, I took care of our child and created design sketches. But no matter how hard I tried, none of my work was ever accepted. Even though Julien told me to keep at it, I felt discouraged and thought of giving up on my design career to focus on our family. One day, our child was sick. I went to take over the shift from Julien when I overheard him talking to my aunt on the stairs. “Julien, it’s been ten years. Joyce’s designs are getting better and better. She even passed the first round of the national competition. Are you really not going to tell her about the next round?” my aunt asked. Her voice trembled. Julien said coldly, “For years, I’ve been sending Joyce’s design sketches to Mindy to copy and enter in the competitions or publish as her own. “To help Mindy’s career, I can’t let Joyce move on to the next round. “Joyce has talent. If people notice her, she’ll be a threat to Mindy’s career!”

My husband, Hank, is dead.  On our wedding anniversary, he ventured out in the pouring rain to buy me a cake, only to be hit by a truck. His body was badly mangled in the crash.  My sister-in-law, Lyra, called me a killer, claiming that I did not deserve Hank’s inheritance.  My mother-in-law, Judy, kicked me out of the house.  Overwhelmed by grief and guilt, I often wondered if he would still be alive had I stopped him that day. Eventually, emotions gripped me, and I was diagnosed with cancer.  Judy came to visit me on my deathbed. “You’re an idiot to believe everything!”  She threw a family photo in my face.  The shock and anger were more than I could handle, and I breathed my last.  It turned out that Hank was never dead. He had a child with his old flame.  When I opened my eyes once more, I returned to the day my husband faked his death.

My husband, Malcolm Thorpe, has low sperm motility. After 33 rounds of IVF, I finally got pregnant. On delivery day, I start hemorrhaging, and the medical team calls for an emergency C-section. Malcolm signs the consent form, then rushes straight back to his childhood sweetheart's birthday party. But instead of starting the C-section, the surgeon says, "Ms. Jacobson, the electronic medical record lists you as single. This consent form isn't valid." I stop breathing for a beat. The happy marriage I believe in turns out to be a sham. Later, Mom and Dad rush in and sign the consent for me. But by then, the baby is gone. The asphyxia lasted too long. After surgery, I scrawl my name on the cremation consent with shaking hands, then dial a number without thinking. "Samuel, are you free now? Meet me in front of City Hall."

On the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Vicente Buckley, he violated my trust by sleeping with my best friend Kinsley Gilmore, on our bed. Through the camera, my son Jamie Buckley's childish voice sounded. "Kinsley, I'll keep watch at the door. I won't let my mom come in!" As if rewarding him, Kinsley pecked Vicente and suggested, "Your son is great. Don't you think about having another child with Patricia?" Vicente responded by covering her face with a pillow, saying, "The scar on her belly disgusts me."

«BOOK 2: Ex-wife's Revenge Series.» Violet escaped an arranged marriage, taking up a new Identity, to live a free life like any normal girl. When she met Clyde Crawford, she was everything he wanted, and he was her perfect reality, Until that reality shattered along with her heart. Each of his actions was a well-orchestrated lie. The man who cherished her, hated her, in fact. Broken and betrayed, Violet walked out of his life with a secret she vowed to hide from him forever. But, five years later, he stumbled upon that secret. Clyde Crawford is in for the biggest shock of his life when his Ex-wife's true identity comes to light.

Ladies dream about getting married to the man of their dreams. They feel it completes them, and they'd live a happy and contented life when they do that. But what they never think about is what would become of them if the man didn't love them back. Annabelle Davis was one of these women. She had married Ethan, the love of her life. Her life crumbled when her daughter died, and Ethan divorced her immediately, leaving her to bear the burden of the loss alone. He then got engaged to his ex-girlfriend two weeks after the divorce. However, years later, he comes back and tries earnestly to gain her forgiveness and have her back. Would she forgive him for the hurt he caused her, or would she keep making him pay for treating her like she was less of a human?

I am someone you wouldn't pray showed up in your nightmares… I am no devil incarnate. I am the devil itself.I do not hunger for women, but just one became a reason for my starvation. I would exploit her meekness. I would make her beg to be mine.When I claim her, it won't be kind.It will be savage. Raw. She would fall on her knees, but it wouldn't be a reason to pray. When she parts her lips, not even a worship to the Moon Goddess would be heard, because those lips that bring me to sin would only call my name and worship my body.She was something forbidden. She was never meant to be mine. She is my father's new little wife. But I am ready to break the rules of the Bratva and the Nightshade Pack. I would spill my father's blood like paint on a canvas.

WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN YOUR HUSBAND AND HIS BEST FRIEND ACCIDENTALLY SWAP SOULS AND TO SWAP THEM BACK YOU HAVE TO BE MARKED BY BOTH OF THEM AT THE SAME TIME OR JUST PICK ONE? Do you go to the man with your husband's face, his familiar hands, his familiar voice — knowing it's his best friend's soul looking back at you through his eyes? Or do you go to the man with his best friend's body, every tattoo, every scar, every inch of him you were never supposed to want — knowing your husband's heart is beating inside that chest? Maya Sinclair has exactly forty days to figure it out before the curse makes the swap permanent. The problem is she's been in love with both of them for longer than she's willing to admit. And the bigger problem? They're starting to figure that out. Two men. Two bodies. One woman. She has thirty days to break the curse. And she has two men in the wrong bodies, with every reason to hate each other — who are both, somehow, choosing her and even choosing each other. Some curses aren't punishments. Some curses are the only way the universe could think to tell you the truth. And that one choice could change three lives. What choice would Maya make? THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEX SCENES,POSSESSIVE ENERGY, AND INTENSE EMOTIONAL TENSION AND BETRAYAL, READER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED. SPICY CHAPTERS WOULD BE INDICATED WITH THIS SYMBOL ~~~. ENJOY!!