Single Double Triple Quadruple Quintuple Novels & Stories

Three years ago, Alpha Kaelen Draven tore the mate bond from Aria’s soul and cast her out of Shadowfang Pack, believing she had betrayed him. He never knew she was carrying his child. Now, Aria returns—not for him, but for the son she’s been hiding. A boy with storm-gray eyes and a dangerous secret pulsing in his blood. When Kaelen sees the child who looks exactly like him, his world shatters. Rage, betrayal, and desire crash together as the truth unravels. But the boy isn’t just their hidden heir… he’s the key to a prophecy that could unite or destroy the entire werewolf world. Enemies circle. Old wounds bleed fresh. And the Alpha who once rejected Aria must fight not only for her forgiveness, but for the family he never knew he had.

Marshall Locke, the assistant working for my wife, Amelia Stone, leaves out three zeroes on a contract. It leads to ten million dollars in losses for the company. The factory that has collaborated with us on the project goes bankrupt, and its owner jumps off a building as a result of the situation. All Marshall does is shed a few tears, and Amelia immediately pins all the blame on me. She claims I single-handedly managed the entire project. I get sued in court, which leaves me ten million dollars in debt. When the deceased's family posts about me online, the entire internet curses me out, saying that I should die too. My entire industry blacklists me. The career I've painstakingly built up for myself is destroyed just like that. But when I confront Amelia about this, she simply looks at her freshly manicured nails and says airily, "Marshall is young and inexperienced. You've been in the business for so many years now. It's not like this has caused any damage to you." Recalling the way she and Marshall had been wrapped up in a passionate kiss before I came in, I pull out the divorce agreement I prepared in advance and toss it at her. "Sign it."

I was in a relationship with Quinn Lucas for five years and thought I had touched her with my sincerity. That night, I got a phone call from her when I was preparing to propose to her. "Kyle, come to the hotel." Then, she sent me the address. When I arrived, she told me to buy contraceptives from the supermarket next door. I thought we were close to our happily ever after, so I was excited. When I knocked on the door of her room again, I saw a man, who took the contraceptives in my hand and thanked me. I froze in place...

My coworker, Kevin Walter, invited me to join a private messaging chat group of rich women. There are plenty of perks, such as the 300-dollar cash gift he claimed right in front of me. I joined the group out of curiosity and got to know a wealthy woman named Ms. White. After some time together, she invited me on a vacation to a famous tourist city near the country's border. Little did I know, I was close enough to being dragged into a dangerous area abroad to become a live organ donor.

Bella existed as little more than a servant, her worth reduced to scrubbing toilets and enduring the whims of Jace, the Alpha's privileged heir. But when fate intervenes, revealing Bella as Jace's destined mate, the game changes drastically. Jace, accustomed to taking what he wants without consequence, is blindsided by the realization that Bella is meant for him. As the mate bond ignites a fiery passion within him, he's forced to confront his own shortcomings and the depth of his feelings for the girl he once saw as disposable. Yet, winning Bella's trust proves to be an uphill battle, the scars of her past interactions with Jace running deep. Even as he pledges his love and devotion, doubts linger—can she ever truly forgive him? And even if she does, can they carve out a future together in a world where power and pack politics threaten to tear them apart?

Xavier Galvan's first love, Winter Singleton, happens to return to the country on the same day our daughter, Tina Galvan, is diagnosed with a heart condition. I wait helplessly with my five-year-old Tina at the hospital for her results. Meanwhile, Xavier drives to the airport to pick up Winter and her son, Ian Becker, just so that he can feel like he has a father to pick them up. I sign the surgery consent form alone while sitting by Tina's hospital bed. Meanwhile, Xavier takes Winter shopping at the mall and even picks out a birthday present for his newly-appointed "godson". On the day of Tina's surgery, just before she's wheeled into the theater, she grabs Xavier's sleeve tightly, refusing to let go. "I'm scared, Daddy. Can you please stay here with Mommy and wait for me?" He agrees. However, a split moment later, Winter calls him. "Xav? Ian's looking for his 'daddy' everywhere at the birthday party. Can you please come over?" Xavier doesn't even hesitate as he pries Tina's fingers, one by one, from his sleeve, and says, "It's just a small surgery, Tina. There's nothing to be afraid of. "Winter needs Daddy now, but I'll be back soon afterward, okay?" Then, Xavier turns to leave. Tina doesn't cry. However, the first thing she does after coming back out of the surgery is to refer to him by a different address. "I don't want Uncle Xavier as my daddy anymore, Mommy."

When I was seven years old, a handsome man Mom brought home gave me a box of mangoes. That day, Dad watched me happily eating the mangoes as he signed his name on the divorce agreement. Then, he jumped to his death. From that day on, mangoes became a lifelong nightmare for me. So, on our wedding day, I told my wife, Irene Johnson, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." She held me without saying a word. From that moment on, mangoes became forbidden for her as well. … On the fifth Christmas Eve after we got married, Irene's childhood sweetheart, Steven Carter, placed a mango on her desk. That same day, she announced that she was cutting ties with him and fired him from the company. That day, I felt that she was the woman destined for me. ... Six months later, I return from overseas after closing a billion-dollar deal. At the celebration dinner, Irene hands me a drink. After I drink half of it, Steven, the man who was kicked out of the company, stands behind me and grins. "Is the mango juice good?" he asks. I look at Irene in disbelief, but she is holding back a laugh. "Don't be mad. Steve insisted I play a joke on you. I didn't give you a mango, just a bottle of its juice. "But I think Steve is right. There's something wrong with you for not eating mangoes. Look at how much you enjoyed it just now!" she says. I keep a cold expression, raise my hand, and splash the remaining mango juice onto her face. Then, I turn and walk away. Some things are never a joke. Mangoes aren't, and neither is my decision to divorce.

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

On our son's fifth birthday, I found the texts on Stanley's phone—from his best friend's widow: [Stanley, the kid misses his dad again. When are you coming over?] [Stanley, Archie liked a set of matching family outfits. I already ordered them. Let's wear them together this weekend.] [Stanley, Archie starts school tomorrow. I put your name down under "father." Hope that's okay?] And Stanley? He was all in: [Loretta's asleep. I'll head over now.] [My size is 3XL. Don't get the wrong one.] [It's fine. You two have always been my responsibility.] I stood there, frozen. Then I called him back in from the living room, where he'd been helping Luca open gifts. He didn't deny it. Just hugged me and started rambling. "Hallie's Howard's widow. I promised I'd look out for her and Archie. I know I messed up. It won't happen again." We'd been together ten years. Luca had just turned five. Ending a marriage over a few texts felt dramatic. So I let it slide. Believed him. We even went out to celebrate Luca's birthday. Then his phone lit up on the table: [Stanley, the kid's crying for his dad before bed. I can't calm him down.] Stanley shoved his chair back and walked out—no hesitation. I looked at Luca. He was startled at the noise. And just like that, divorce didn't feel so dramatic anymore.

When I was seven, my mother, a pianist, died of cancer. During her last moments, she held my hand. “Naomi, we both share a passion for the piano. When you grow up, you must stand on the world stage and play for me someday.” Since then, performing on the stage in Vinna had been a lifelong dream of mine. From the age of seven, I trained long and hard, practicing more than six hours a day until my fingers and wrists were bruised. At last, I gained recognition and earned a chance to audition for a spot in a top orchestra at twenty-one. If I succeeded, I would perform at Vinna’s New Year’s Concert the following week. However, my father brought home a sister, only six months younger than me. She became the apple of my father’s eye, and my piano room was turned into her dance studio. My brothers adored her, always personally making sure she got to school and came home safe and sound. Even my boyfriend, whom I had known all my childhood, was dazzled by her smile. His eyes often stuck on her. On the day of my audition, he ditched me on an overpass just to take her to her dance class. “Naomi, all you’re missing out on is a chance to realize your dream, but Charlotte can’t be late. “Don’t be such a drama queen. I’ll take you once I drop her off.” As the car sped away, I calmly took out my phone and broke up with Maddox over text. My mother was right. Boys only got in the way of dreams.