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Daisy Halfmoon sacrificed everything to become the perfect Luna for her fiancé, Alpha Dexter Furball of the Pinewood Pack. Life was great. Even though they weren’t blessed by sharing a mate bond, Daisy thought their love was stronger than any magical bond out there. That was until the evening of their mating ceremony, when Dexter devastates her by publicly rejecting her and declaring another woman as his destined mate. Shocked, humiliated and heartbroken, Daisy doesn’t believe things could get any worst, but again Dexter proves her wrong when he makes it clear that even though he doesn’t want her, she still belongs to him. Dexter’s betrayal cuts deeper than she ever could have imagined. To settle his pack’s debts, Dexter sells Daisy to Alpha Zordon Deathclaw, the ruthless and powerful leader of the feared Deathclaw Pack. Zordon is cold, possessive, and fiercely protective. He doesn’t just take Daisy in as property; he makes her his by loving her and showing her what it means to truly be with a real man. Time goes by, and just as Daisy begins to heal, Dexter returns, burning with regret and an insatiable need to take back what he threw away. Now Daisy is torn between the fiancé who betrayed her and the Alpha who gave her a second chance at love. She is left to fight for her own fate as secrets unravel and a dark prophecy ties her to both men. She realizes that love is not the only battle she must face because in the end, only one Alpha can claim her. Who will it be?

They were supposed to be on the same team. Santos Khyle arrived in Seattle as the Soul Reapers' most anticipated rookie in years, a natural-born scorer with something to prove and a chip on his shoulder the size of a regulation puck. Gunner Jäger had been tearing up the ice as the team's feared enforcer for two seasons, and he had zero interest in sharing his spotlight with some orange-haired twenty-one year old who looked at him like he was a problem to be managed. From the moment they met, it was war. On the ice, they were a disaster. Off it, they were worse. Screaming matches in corridors. Fists through locker room walls. A live on-air brawl that made every highlight reel in North America and earned them both a suspension, a lecture from their furious coach, and the undivided attention of the entire hockey world. Nobody could stand to watch them together. Nobody could look away either. Because underneath the fury and the bruises and the months of spectacular mutual destruction, something else was building. Something neither of them had language for yet. Something that felt uncomfortably like the only fight either of them was actually afraid to lose. The Soul Reapers are one playoff run away from everything. Gunner and Khyle are one honest conversation away from falling apart completely. Or maybe, just maybe, from finally figuring out what they are to each other. Pucking Up the Ice is a slow burn MM romance set in the brutal and beautiful world of professional hockey. It contains explicit language, on-ice violence, emotional gut punches, two men who are absolutely terrible at feelings, and a love story that had to break everything before it could build something worth keeping.

He didn’t just buy my company. He bought me in marriage. And he’s been orchestrating my downfall from the very beginning. I was the golden girl of the Sterling empire until my father and my backstabbing ex-fiancé stripped me of my legacy, threw me to the wolves, and left me with nothing. Broken and looking for a single night of oblivion, I walked into a secluded hotel lounge and fell into the arms of a cold, mesmerizing stranger. A man who possessed a lethal charm and eyes like a winter storm. The next morning, he was gone. Twenty-four hours later, he walked into my father's boardroom. Julian Vance. The ruthless, multi-billionaire acquisitions tycoon who just hostilely took over my family's firm. He’s cold, calculating, and three steps ahead of everyone else in the city. And before the ink on the merger can even dry, he announces our sudden engagement on live television to force my hand. I thought I was playing a dangerous game of fake marriage to get revenge on the family that ruined me. I thought I could use Julian's massive empire as a shield to take back what’s mine. But I was wrong. Julian didn't find me in that lounge by accident. He knew exactly who I was. He knew exactly what my ex did to me. And as a dark, international conspiracy closes in around us, I'm forced to realize that the man sharing my bed isn't just protecting me from the monsters out to destroy me... He might be the most dangerous monster of them all.

My boyfriend, Drew Myers, has proposed to me 99 times. Meanwhile, his childhood sweetheart, Tammy Fowler, has relapsed into depression 99 times. When Drew makes his 100th proposal, Tammy's depression strikes once more. As usual, he picks up Tammy's call, a gentle smile playing on his lips. With a tired sigh, he turns to me and says, "She's having another breakdown. We'll have to put the proposal on hold this time." Despite it being my birthday, Drew starts clearing away the freshly served dishes as if it were any other day. Fearing I might complain, he shoots me a cold, disapproving glance. "I know you're jealous of Tammy, but she's the one who's struggling. You're a soldier. You should be the bigger person and give her some leeway." Not only does Drew want me to eat Tammy's scraps, but he also orders me to bring them climbing gear at midnight. When Tammy shares intimate photos of them hugging online, his only reaction is to lash out at me. "Do you honestly find satisfaction in pushing Tammy to another breakdown? Is this the honor of a soldier? Your cruelty sickens me!" Over and over, he tears down my character and mocks my integrity. But this time, I simply look down at the special forces recruitment letter in my hand and say nothing. Drew remains oblivious. At last, I'm the one who's letting go.

On the day of the SAT, my boyfriend, waiting for his childhood friend who was running late, made the whole class delay heading to the exam venue. However, there was less than an hour left before the exam started, and continuing to delay would surely mean missing it. In my previous life, as the class representative, I kindly advised everyone to go to the exam venue first. The result? A torrent of accusations directed at me. "You're just jealous that Nina and Brock are close, so you're leaving her behind to make her miss the exam on purpose, right?" I pleaded in the pouring rain for ten minutes before they reluctantly agreed to leave. They arrived at the exam venue with just a minute to spare. After the exam, I was pushed off a building by Nina Holiday, my body turning into a bloody mess. Under my boyfriend's lead, the entire class gave false testimony to the police. "Cassie Woods took her own life because she feels guilty for making Nina miss the exam!" Nina used this opportunity to play the victim, gaining sympathy and becoming a famous online influencer. My dad wanted to get justice for me but was cyberbullied by clueless netizens. Driving in a mentally-unstable state, his car veered off a cliff, his body never recovered. Only after death did I realize that it was all a big conspiracy by Nina. When I opened my eyes again, I found that I had been reborn to the day the whole class waited for Nina to go to the exam venue. This time, I decided not to stop my ungrateful classmates from suffering the consequences of their own choices!

The day I was about to quit the game, countless floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [Finally! The villainess is quitting!] [Now Janet Cole doesn’t have to worry about getting exposed for using her account to flirt online.] [The heroine is so smart–she always uses voice chat in-game. The villainess has no idea.] [Janet is living the dream–using her max-level account to juggle five top-tier players at once!] [At 2 PM today, she’s meeting her 'No.1 catch'–the cold, untouchable campus heartthrob Cedric Barnes!] [Assassin god tomorrow, rich scion the day after… her time management is insane!] The Janet they were talking about… was the fake heiress who had taken my place in my own family. She had been impersonating me–using my account to flirt with five elite players at once? Then more comments appeared… [Why hasn’t the villainess left yet? The male lead is already waiting.] [This is the first sweet date between the leads–can’t wait!] I turned to look at Janet, touching up her makeup in front of the mirror–and suddenly, it all clicked. The 'villainess' they were talking about… was me. So the real heiress–me–was nothing more than a disposable side character, a stepping stone for the fake one? A faint smile curled on my lips. If she could impersonate me online and play the field, then me showing up in person and stealing everything... wouldn't be too much, right?

On our third wedding anniversary, Kent gave me a gift. A black metal wristband. Cold. Sleek. He called it a new product from his company—a pain-sharing system. The other user was Violet. His "girl bro." The person he was closer to than his own sister. Kent brushed a hand over my cheek, his gaze soft. "Clara, you're too coddled. You should learn from Violet. She's tough." Then he snapped the wristband onto my wrist. So while Violet got a full-back tattoo and an entire sleeve, I felt every single needle. When Violet went wingsuit flying, I collapsed at home. Every bone in my body felt shattered. I threw up blood. While she soaked up attention online as the "extreme sports queen," I was drowning in nonstop pain. Kent sat beside me, holding my hand as he cared. "Just hang in there. Violet's just being herself. As my wife, you should be more understanding." To finally push me over the edge, Violet decided to livestream herself jumping into the ocean to make me die in her place. Their friends couldn't wait to watch. Later, I watched calmly from a hospital room as the system slowly drained the life out of her. Kent looked deranged as he demanded to know why I wasn't dead. Because I had already reversed the system. All her vitality had become the nourishment that sustained me.

My CEO husband told me he had a last-minute job to handle. He said that because of it, he couldn't accompany me to retrieve the body. Then I went online and saw a photo my husband's secretary had posted as a birthday status update. [Thanks for the red velvet cake, Mr. Mitchell! Happy birthday to me!] I smiled and left a comment. [Happy birthday.] That single comment sparked a frenzy among my colleagues. They immediately began placing bets on how big of a scene I would make. Then he called. "Lucy is just celebrating her birthday, Brianna! Why do you have to ruin it by showing up in the comments?! Don't you know how sensitive she is? How is she supposed to feel comfortable at work now?! "She's only been here for two years. She doesn't even have any friends! What's wrong with me looking out for an employee and keeping her company on her birthday? A lucky girl who grew up in a wealthy family like you wouldn't understand! "If you want to talk about this, fine. Wait until I get back. But delete that comment right now! We can always wait another few days before retrieving his body. Where is your father going to go anyway? He's already dead!" I clenched my fist and replied, "That won't be necessary." By the time he returned, we would already be legally divorced.

When my son suffered a heart attack in the middle of the night, I rushed him to the hospital where my wife worked. Instead of taking charge herself, she handed the operation to an intern. "New doctors need opportunities to learn. I'll be right there supervising. Nothing will happen." But before the surgery even began, a phone call pulled her away, leaving a trembling Marvin Vance alone in the operating room. My son never made it off the operating table. I collapsed in the hallway, sobbing in grief. Yet I overheard my wife gently comforting Marvin. "For your first surgery, you held on this long. You've done an amazing job, my little cinnamon roll." Awkwardly copying trendy slang younger people used online, she reassured him with endless patience. Then she turned to me with a cold expression and demanded that I sign a letter forgiving Marvin. "He has his whole future ahead of him. You can't destroy his life." I tore the document to pieces and threatened to call the police and expose what had happened. In response, she arranged for a medical donation and had my son's body dissected that very night. Driven insane by grief, I threw myself from a building while clutching my son's ashes. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of my son's surgery. This time, I immediately contacted my parents and transferred him to another hospital. But that night, they still dissected a child.

We had agreed to spend the New Year with our own families, but at the last minute, my husband, Drake Murrell, changed his mind and insisted I go back with him this year. I agreed, planning to take this opportunity to finally tell him the truth about who I really was. When we first got married, my parents told me to keep a low profile so that Drake, who came from a single-parent household, wouldn’t feel pressured. So I hid the fact that I was the daughter of the richest family in the capital, the Thorntons. When we returned to his hometown, I specifically bought my mother-in-law, Diana Murrell, a pair of gold bangles. She accepted them with a beaming smile, praising me again and again for being such a thoughtful daughter-in-law. However, the next day, as I passed by the old oak tree at the edge of Willow Creek, I overheard her talking about me with a group of people. "Oh, you have no idea. My daughter-in-law is absolutely ridiculous!" My hand froze midair, still holding my phone, as I instinctively ducked behind a haystack. I heard her continue loudly, "She bought me a pair of gold bangles this year. The moment I touched them, I knew they were fake! I’m telling you, they’re probably those cheap online knockoffs, like the kind that cost next to nothing and start fading the moment you wear them!" I was stunned with anger. She called pure gold fake? Looks like the million-dollar New Year gift I had prepared for her wasn’t necessary anymore.