Simpson Tapped Out

During the holiday break, my wife, Jayda Glover—the hospital's star surgeon and Chief of Cardiac Surgery—suddenly "had to work overtime." Our third-anniversary hot springs trip? Canceled. That night, I was scrolling social media when a post from her intern, Dillon Tripp, popped up. My ice-queen wife always said her "golden hands" were only for patients. Apparently, they cook now too. She was in a cartoon apron, calmly chopping vegetables. The caption read: [Thank you, Dr. Glover, for personally cooking to comfort me after I was bullied by a patient's family!] I tapped like and left a comment. [White coat to apron. Very domestic.] Ten minutes later, the whole hospital knew Cardiac Surgery's untouchable beauty had broken her rule—just to cook for a younger guy. Jayda called. Dishes clattered in the background. "You really had to embarrass me in public? He got hot water thrown on him by a patient's family today. I was just doing my duty as his mentor! "A pampered professor's kid like you wouldn't know the first thing about how hard broke med students have it. "Apologize to Dillon right now. Otherwise, no matter how much you beg later, I'm not going on that trip with you!" Beg her? I looked at the divorce papers that had just arrived on the coffee table and let out a quiet laugh. I wasn't begging anymore. From this moment on, we were strangers.

One year ago, my husband Killian came back home accusing me of poisoning him, with his childhood sweetheart in his arms. It was terrifying. Because what started off allegedly, became my cold reality with that awful text. “Have you gone through with it, Tamara? Our flight is at noon,” This made Killian even more hostile, he treated me with so much contempt, he broke my heart into shreds in his quest for vengeance. Fed up, I asked for a divorce but to Killian it was one big joke. He has every means to keep me in this marriage and I know it. But screw it, and screw him! I had plans, work, make money and get myself out unscathed. But then fate decided to throw me another curved ball… I got pregnant, and Killian was the only possible father. **** Damon Blackwood is in dire need of an heir. A womb to carry his baby to term in exchange for a million dollars. One thrilling encounter and he knew he had found the one. Hazel Simpson, insanely mouthwatering, and ridiculously beautiful, smart mouth and a gorgeous body. But she lacks one thing. Money. Out of sheer desperation, Hazel responds to an ad through a co-worker, a huge sum for a secret surrogate mom. But who says rules are meant to be obeyed? Damon wants more, her womb, her body and her soul. All of her. What happens when Hazel discovers it was all a trap from the onset. **** “Have you forgotten that I'm just a divorcee, a broken woman incapable of love, Seb?” I ask him breathlessly, staring into his eyes. “I'm going to stitch your heart, Melanie. I'm going to make you want me,” Sebastian takes my ear into his mouth and nibbles it gently, sending shivers down my spine.

Luca Knight knows exactly the kind of woman he wants to settle down with some day and it's certainly not anyone like Skylar Simpson, his personal assistant. After all, Skylar is a sex addict who knows nothing about commitment. She sleeps with a different man every week, changing men like she changes her sheets. What happens when Luca pays Skylar to pretend to be his girlfriend at his family reunion? Sparks fly. Soon Luca realizes that he wants Skylar all to himself. Skylar has sworn to never love again after getting her heart broken twice which is why she loves to sleep with different men, and so Luca sets out to do the impossible; he's going to seduce her and drive her crazy until she possibly can't think of anyone else but him. ****** "Have you forgotten that I'm just a whore who can't stick to one man?" I ask breathlessly. ”I'm going to make you want only me, Skylar." Luca takes my ear into his mouth and nibbles it gently, sending a shiver down my spine. “That confident?” I whisper, trying hard to fight against the delightful sensations running through me. "Yes." He licks my neck in the most sensual way. “I'm going to make you beg for it. I'm going to drive you crazy until my dick is the only one you want to sit on.” Oh fuck.

By the third year of my marriage to Daniel Hawthorne, the war had already taken more than it ever returned, and this time it took his younger brother, Thomas Hawthorne. My sister-in-law, Eleanor, collapsed, and in the weeks that followed she tried to follow her husband into death— once with sleeping pills, once by the river beyond the officers’ quarters— only to be dragged back both times, each time clinging to me afterward as though I were the last thing keeping her grounded. I stayed with her, wiped her tears, and whispered that Thomas would want her to live, until the day she received the test results confirming she was three months pregnant, and the grief of losing her husband was slowly softened by the arrival of new life. I smiled too, believing grief had finally loosened its grip. That night, holding my own pregnancy test in my hand and thinking it was finally time to tell Daniel, I passed the study and heard his friend say quietly, “She’s carrying your child. You convinced the doctors to adjust the timeline so everyone would believe the baby belonged to your brother. Aren’t you afraid Margaret will find out?” Daniel didn’t hesitate. “She won’t,” he said calmly. “She loves me. She wouldn’t leave. I won’t let her know.” I didn’t step inside. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I opened the letter I had received weeks earlier— an official deployment order from the international medical corps, assigning me to a frontline war zone— and tapped Accept.

His voice dropped lower. “You saw the news, didn’t you? The little warning on the LED TV?” Her eyes flickered. “…Yes, sir.” “Then why didn’t you turn back?” Her mouth opened, but no words came out. “And you saw they’ve never shown my face on the news.” He tapped his temple, eyes glinting. “But now you’re staring right at me. You know exactly what I look like. You think I’ll let you walk away?” “No! Please!” Isabella’s voice cracked, tears falling. “I promise with my mother’s grave—I’ll never speak of this! Please, just spare me!” Alessandro smirked, lifting his gun. “People like you swear. People like you also betray. Let’s see…” Her whole body locked. “No, no, please—” The gun fired. Isabella screamed. But when she opened her eyes, the bullet hole smoked in the wooden floor beside her. Her chest heaved. Her hands shook. She collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. Alessandro leaned back, laughing softly. Then—something in her snapped. She pushed herself up on trembling legs. “You want to kill me? Then fucking do it!” His brows lifted. “What the fuck is wrong with you gangsters?” she yelled, her voice shaking. “Do I look like someone who can hurt you? You almost made me wet my pants out there with your bullets. Do you think that’s funny?” One of his men growled, stepping forward, hand raised. “How dare you talk to the boss like that—” “Stop,” Alessandro ordered sharply, raising his hand without taking his eyes off her. Isabella’s chest heaved. “You think taking lives is funny?” She beat her chest with her fist. “Fine. I’m going to walk out that door right now. Shoot me if you want.”

The first day I return to the country, my future mother-in-law, Sophia Damer, smacks a check against my face and says, "Here's five million dollars. Leave my son alone. The Simpsons cannot accept a gold-digging nobody like you!" Before I can even explain myself, the young woman in a white dress hiding behind her says, "Please don't do this, Sophia. If this young lady treats Jay well enough, I don't mind caring for him with her, too." I chuckle. So, Sophia and Crystal Richmond, my half-sister, think that I'm the evil mistress who tried stealing her man away from her, when Jayson Simpson was my boyfriend the entire time. And yet, Crystal still thinks that she's the legitimate one instead. However, seeing that Crystal still doesn't know who I really am, I pick up the check without even looking at it and stuff it into her V-neck dress. "Nice acting. Here's your reward." Then, I take out a black card and fling it onto the table. "Here's ten million dollars, lady. Tell your son to stay away from me and stop bothering me. I find him disgusting! "Oh, and by the way," I say, pointing at Crystal, who is still being shielded behind Sophia's body. "Might I remind you that this young woman you're protecting is just the bastard kid my dad brought home last year. "If you're thinking of using her to get close to the Richmonds, I'm afraid that you're barking up the wrong tree!"

“Yes, I am Dom. Your dom.” Did he say that last part or I imagined it? Letting out a shaky breath, I slid away from his lap. The front of my panties, scraped against his lap slowly as I slid from him and his light grey eyes darkened. I had no idea my pussy was so drenched that it left a mark on his pants. Jesus! Who is this man and what has he done to me? Soon I was seated beside him, his thighs pressing close to mine as we both drank. Electricity kept shooting tingles up my legs and I felt light-headed. He was silent and I suddenly felt nervous like I needed to speak to this deliciously fair man that sat brooding. Clearing my throat, I tapped his leg—unconsciously on the spot my pussy left—and he looked up, smirking at me. My mouth went dry immediately. “Is there something you want?” he asked. “Uh…No, I mean yes. Is this normal for you?” His handsome features morphed into a frown, “Having a girl leave a wet spot on my pants or taking wine in a bar?” I just discovered that my poor, useless, and filthy father who died a month ago left me a luxurious Cabin in Bakersfield. HOW!? Wish I insisted on that question. I shouldn’t have taken the plunge and moved into that house, but I am a broke, poor virgin and will soon be homeless, so I did. It might as well be the worst or best decision I have ever made because, in 12 hours, my life changed. COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER ON THE BOOK COVER!!!! contact the author for it to be removed if there is an issue

As the Luna of the pack, I was replaced by a giant Plush Wolf Doll. Every night, Alpha Julian clutched it in his arms and fell asleep. Its voice—manipulated by Alpha pheromones—came out in breathy moans like a woman’s, keeping me awake all night. At our son’s first birthday banquet, I filed for divorce. “Maybe that Plush Wolf Doll is better suited to be your Luna. Let’s get divorced—I’m severing our mate bond.” “You’re jealous… of a stuffed toy? Chloe, have you lost your mind?” Everyone thought I was making a scene for no reason. Julian’s Beta assistant, Harper, was especially agitated. “The little wolf pup just turned one! Are you really going to let him grow up without a mother?” “I’m asking for a divorce, not dropping dead. How could he not have a mother? Or… are you getting so worked up because you want to replace me as my pup’s mother? Or maybe replace the plush toy?” Outside, my friend—and lawyer—Victor was already waiting. “I’ve sent someone to dig into it. The truth you want will be in our hands soon.” “Good. Three days from now, in court—you’ll be my lawyer.” I tapped open a strange video. The giant Plush Wolf Doll walked across the room, opened the fridge, and took a drink. But I remembered perfectly—this toy could only make sounds. It couldn’t move, let alone eat. Three days. That was all I needed to prepare. Then, before the eyes of the entire pack, the truth would have nowhere to hide.

During the five years I was in a vegetative state, all ten family soldiers assigned to guard me were murdered. One of them merely smoked a cigarette outside my hospital room. The next day, he was found upside down, drowned in a toilet. Another simply adjusted my pillow. The next day, he took a dive from a skyscraper rooftop. The Corleone family was in chaos, but they couldn't find a single trace of the killer. With no other choice, the ten executions, all textbook Mafia hits, became cold cases. Strangely, the very second the tenth guard's heart stopped, I opened my eyes. The first thing I did upon waking was call the FBI and turn myself in. The agents were stunned. "Miss Corleone, are you saying that while in a coma for five years, you planned and executed the murders of ten fully armed Mafia soldiers?" My fingers tapped lightly on the table, a faint smile playing on my lips. "That's right." "Being in a vegetative state only means I couldn't move." "Who ever told you that killing, something so crude, required me to get my hands dirty?"

I had been dating Andy Lawson for five years. He had gone bankrupt, and during the worst of it, we had to sleep in parks and scavenge leftovers for food. After a hundred days of that life, I was just going to the blackmarket to sell some blood for money when someone sent me a video. [Surprise.] It was a livestream site, set up for rich kids to prank the common folk—and a video of me was pinned to the top. My finger trembling, I tapped on it and saw myself hidden in a corner of a park, munching on leftovers to nourish my frail body. On the split video, Andy was reclining against the armchair of a five-star hotel and savoring his gourmet menu. "Oh, this is amazing! All Andy has to do is say that he's sick, and she's selling her blood for him!" "On the sixteenth prank, she fell into the ocean… And on the fifteenth, she was sent flying in a car crash! Why is she so hard to kill?" "Well, Andy already made it clear that if she survives until the end, he will marry her and swear off women!" "One month to go! Will she die from the pranks, or marry into the Lawson family with pomp and circumstance?" "I'm betting fifty mil that she dies tragically! Hahaha!"