Snowflake Reader Account Novels & Stories

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!!

Synopsis for Lycan’s Windsong Born beneath the aurora and blessed by the Moon Goddess, Alora Windsong has always stood apart—white hair, pale eyes, and a voice that can bend emotions with every note she sings. Her bloodline carries a sacred gift, one said to awaken the deepest soulbond when a Windsong meets their fated mate. But Alora’s life is far from charmed. Living under her grandfather’s shadow, cast as the outcast beside her spoiled sister, she’s desperate for freedom and a future of her own. That future shatters the moment she meets Blaise—a powerful, magnetic Lycan who is everything she’s been warned to avoid. The poster child for ‘Bad Boy Biker,’ and he doesn’t belong to her pack. Their fated mate bond is instant, electric, and utterly forbidden. One touch, one kiss, and she knows she can never let him go. Now they are forced into secrecy—stolen moments, hidden nights, passion that blazes hotter than either of them can control. To claim each other openly, they must risk defying her Alpha, her bloodline, and the laws that could tear them apart. But fate doesn’t care about rules. And once a Windsong has sung her mate into her soul, there is no undoing the bond. Forbidden desire. Dangerous secrets. A love written in moonlight and sealed in song. ***Disclaimer: This is an adult erotica romance novel intended for readers 18 and older. It contains explicit sexual content, mature themes, and intense, steamy scenes. Reader discretion is advised.

She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she’s stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield—his toxic on-and-off girlfriend—shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah’s wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she’s always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn’s older brother—a man who couldn’t be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game—a twisted bet between them—soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who’s always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.

Gabrielle ran from her wedding to Jared… and woke up wearing Damon’s ring. He’s cold, wealthy, and dangerously irresistible — a man who swore he couldn’t feel anything. Until her. She’s the runaway bride he turned into his wife. Now she’s trapped in his penthouse wearing his shirt, his ring… and maybe, just maybe, teaching him how to feel again. ⚠️ CONTENT WARNING This story is intended strictly for adult audiences aged 18 and above. The book explores passion, desire, power, and emotional conflict, delving into the complexities of love, lust, and control. It features dark romance elements, including manipulation, obsession, dominance, moral ambiguity, toxic dynamics, and unhealthy relationships portrayed solely for plot purposes. These themes are not meant to be romanticized, endorsed, or implemented in real life. Readers should expect graphic sexual descriptions, BDSM, explicit language, and mature emotional themes, as well as elements of dark humor, identity crisis, childhood trauma, and emotional numbness. Due to the intensity of these topics, reader discretion is strongly advised. This story is written for entertainment and storytelling purposes only. The author does not endorse or glorify harmful behavior. Copyright © 2025 by Siemuri Daniella. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to real persons or events is purely coincidental. BOOK 1 of the Veins Of Darkness Series — interconnected standalone dark romance novels. BOOK 1 – Accidentally Married to the Billionaire Single Dad BOOK 2 – Forced Marriage to My Mafia Ex-Boyfriend BOOK 3 – Coming Soon BOOK 4 – Coming Soon

In order to take care of my wife, Mildred Dale, who kept going into lunatic episodes thanks to the side effects of a car crash, I spent all of my assets and ten years of my life taking care of her. Whenever Mildred went into an episode, she'd hurl everything she could get her hands on at me. At the same time, she'd scratch every inch of my body with her nails. But when she sobered up, she'd hug me while wailing at the top of her lungs. All of my friends advised me to file for a divorce, yet I'd always remember the fact that Mildred had pushed me from the incoming car and hit her head, resulting in her current condition. But everything changed when Mildred beat me up to the point that I sustained grievous injuries. Heck, my soul was already floating near the ceiling at that time. That was when I saw Mildred arranging her childhood friend Hank Weaver's collar carefully. "Why are you crying? He's already dead. Shouldn't we celebrate this occasion instead? "But my heart breaks for you, Mildred. You've pretended to be a lunatic for ten whole years just to swindle every cent out of his account!" Mildred kissed Hank on the lips. Then, she uttered icily, "I've been enduring that cowardly fool for ten long years. Now, I no longer have to be with him." It turns out that Mildred and Hank had painstakingly staged the car accident just so they could put on such a perfect act. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Mildred is diagnosed with mental health issues.

After getting married, I followed my wife to the desert to help build up a remote research base. After months of severe drought, I applied for 17 ounces of water just to wash my hair. But as station chief, June Sheffield rejected me without hesitation. "The water supply has to go toward cultivating the samples first. You need to learn how to tough it out." Then the next moment, I came across a new post the intern had uploaded on social media. 'Wanted to try an outdoor bath, and Ms. Sheffield approved a whole ton of water without even blinking! She even set up the bath tent herself. I'm so happy.' Furious, I went straight to confront June Sheffield. Usually cold and distant, she softened her tone for once. "Conditions here are harsh. If Morgan can't handle it and decides to leave, the base will end up even more short-staffed. You're one of the core staff members. Once the project pays out, your share alone will be at least four million. An intern like him doesn't get that kind of treatment." In the end, I swallowed my anger. That was, until the first-quarter project wrapped up. When there was still no movement in my account, I nervously contacted headquarters. The moment I gave my identity, the person on the other end sounded stunned. "You're just an intern. What project bonus are you talking about? And the head of the research department has always been Morgan Wilder." I stared at June's signature on the personnel registration list and suddenly understood everything. Without another word, I packed my bags and booked a flight home. Life in the desert was bitterly cold and unforgiving. This time, I was not staying.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

It was only on our first wedding anniversary that I realized the rubbers I bought before our wedding had long expired. No one would believe that my mafia husband, Andre Garcia, and I had never consummated our marriage. That night, I gathered my courage and bought a suggestive nightgown. After downing three glasses of whisky, I hugged Andre tightly and whispered in his ear, "Darling, let's do it today. I want you..." However, Andre shook my hand off indifferently as if he were handling a gun. "Danielle Lawson, do you have no shame? You've done such shameless things time and time again. If you're really that lonely, I'll order you some toys so you can play with them to your heart's content." My face turned deathly pale as I stood there, stunned. I could not understand why a wife begging for her husband's affection was considered 'shameless' behavior. I curled up on the couch, unable to help but ask on social media. Danielle: [My husband has no dysfunction. Why won't he touch me after marriage?] Someone replied: [Perhaps your husband has someone else.] Like a dagger, that comment pierced me awake. I suddenly realized—maybe the problem was not that I was unattractive but rather that he was never mine. The moment I deleted my account, I also made the decision to leave. Who could have imagined that Andre, who would usually not even glance at me, would frantically search for me after I disappeared? "Danielle, I can't get a hard-on after you left!"

After getting tormented by electrical shocks for five years, I've contracted severe brain atrophy. Once the psychiatric hospital kicks me out, I rely on the posts that are recorded in my old Facebook account in order to survive. Rosalie Vaughn, my childhood friend and former girlfriend who has sworn to torture me till I die, takes her rich fiance, Sebastian Crowe, back to the old, rundown complex. The moment she sees me curling up on the moldy couch while clutching my phone tightly, she lets out a scoff. "Oh? Now that you've escaped from the hospital, are you still waiting for some rich woman's text? Weren't you very quick and decisive when you stole my life-saving money back then? Why are you still pretending to be some devoted man?" As soon as Rosalie's voice falls, she snatches my phone from my hands. After keying in the wrong password three times in a row, she chooses to recover my password. The moment she sees the security question, her mocking expression freezes momentarily. The question shows, "Who's the only one I've loved in this life?" I blink hazily, my eyes cloudy and dull. Then, I tug at Rosalie's sleeve. "Miss, do you know who she is? I remember I used to love someone with all my heart, but I think she locked me up in a psychiatric hospital." After that, I turn around and try to scavenge the trash can for a piece of expired bread just so I can offer it to the "nice lady".

Maturity Warning ️ This story is a dark romance intended for mature audiences (18+). It contains explicit sexual content, predatory behavior, power imbalances, blackmail and taboo themes. Reader discretion is advised. He calls me a monster by day, but claimed me like a slut by night. I am my mother's project and world's greatest miracle. I am her husband's greatest sin. I am a hybrid created in a secret basement with the DNA of my mother and sea creatures. I was designed to be the perfect daughter for my creator who couldn't conceive. But to her husband, I was nothing but a hideous monster that threatened his marriage. Rick despises me. He calls me a lab rat and treats me with a cold cruelty that should make me hate him. Yet my heart and body still aches for him. He punished me with his presence, but behind his mask of fate lies a hunger that contradicts his insult. The tension finally snaps when the house was empty and Rick claimed me as his prey in a violent, possessive act that brands me as his private obsession. But the outside world was waking up. Dr Morgan and his hounds are coming for me, to claim me as their asset. My mother, created a replica of me to be my mate, Kael. With the intention of saving her marriage and sending me away. Now, I am caught in a deadly crossfire. Rick swore to protect me from the Dr Morgan and Kael. But as Dr Morgan's men hunted me down. Rick must make a difficult choice; hand me over to the scalpel, or become a fugitive to keep me by his side. The experiment is over. The war for the miracle had begun.