Soul Eater Pumpkin Witch Novels & Stories

I call it twist of fate.. It might happen for the good of someone or unfortunate in some way. After all, their story is no different from each other. Keisha and Katherine, the two were intentionally switched at birth. Keisha, beautiful, simple and hard-working young lady, who grew up from a low class family near the fishport. She spent all her life fishing and taking care of her family. Katherine, beautiful, but arrogant and spoiled Lady with a lavishing lifestyle. She grew up in a big city with her wealthiest parents. They made sure she luck nothing. But Destiny played it's role. The Two ladies crossed paths. Unfortunately, they fell in love with the same man. Handsome and most influential young president of WS Co-operation. Read more as their identity is revealed and the unfortunate happen.

My best friend Sophie and I went into labor the very same night. I watched her switch out the two infants with my own eyes, but I did not tell a single soul. For the next decade, I fed, clothed, and raised a daughter that was not mine. On the day the two girls turned eighteen, they received their college offer letters at the same time. One got into an ivy league school, and the other, a community college whose name I had not even heard of. I had never seen Sophie so happy in my entire life. Grinning from ear to ear, she whipped out the DNA report she had been saving for this very moment. "Thank you for raising my daughter to be the valedictorian that she is today. It's time she returns to her mama. As for this good-for-nothing scum… You can take her back!" I sneered. "Very well then." She had no idea what was coming.

Queen Asteria, the first siren has always hated the humans after what happened to her 5,000 years ago. But now her hate is also directed at the shifters she once called family. Asteria was betrayed by those she held dear, captured by the humans and forced to make a deal all to save the shifters from extinction. Will Asteria’s need for revenge cost her everything? Will she give in to her mate-bond with the last descendant of the royal Lycan Bloodline? Or will she be forced to live a life she despised? For the seas are soulless and so is she.

On the day the SAT results are revealed, the fake heiress, Layla Sanders, colluded with our homeroom teacher, Richard Hoffman, to report me for cheating during the exam. When I stared at both copies of the exam papers that showed the same steps and formulas, I couldn't defend myself at all. In order to preserve Layla's pride, my own parents actually forced me to admit to stealing the exam questions in advance. Then, they had me forcibly admitted into a mental asylum. The Sanders family claimed that I had gone crazy just so they could keep this particular skeleton sealed in the closet. They abandoned me, letting me be tormented endlessly in the asylum. When I finally escaped from the asylum, I died in a car crash that was meticulously staged by Layla. Only on the verge of my death did I finally realize that the so-called "blood is thicker than water" mentality was nothing compared to a tear shed by Layla. The moment I open my eyes again, I've gotten reborn in the exam hall. This time, I choose to submit my exam paper without anything scribbled on it. I'd like to see just how someone with a total of zero points can possibly copy off the so-called top scorer of SAT.

It all started with a bet. Merliah wanted to prove that she could make everyone fall for her. However, who would have thought that a 33-year-old dean of their college could defy her advances? Irritated and obsessed with getting the dean's attention, she found herself falling for him, but to his eyes, she is just a kid that is yet to mature. Should she give up on him or still chase after him?

Mohit Paul is a young and dynamic Fashion designer. He is sinfully handsome, having girls drooling over him but to their dismay, he barely gives them another look. He is bisexual, but prefers to be with men . Until one fateful night.... When he meets Srusti. Srusti is a simple, sweet and innocent girl. join their journey, to see who gets bewitched by whom....

A particularly dark tale. Not for the faint of heart. He was the all-powerful Magistrate Mathis. The man that accused the witches and then found them guilty in the dungeons of WitchFall Fortress. I had feared ever being one of them, but not enough to be dissuaded from figuring out why he didn't seem to be what he was. So I followed him into the woods one day and discovered the one secret he was willing to wreak havoc to keep. The secret he'd make me pay for ever knowing. And if he couldn't have me on my terms, well he was certainly powerful enough to find a way, wasn't he? The most horrible kind of way... Barely understanding what was happening, I soon found myself in the worst place I could possibly be. Under his complete control...

It was the holiday season, so I took my foster daughter, Megan Delgado, to our mansion for a vacation. However, I found out that the property had been occupied by someone else. The woman who opened the door looked at us with an impatient expression. “What do you want? You’re interrupting my daughter’s birthday party. Are you asking for trouble?” For a moment, I thought I might have the wrong house. That was until I noticed the clothing and jewelry the woman was wearing. Every piece was an exact match with what I kept in my wardrobe here. The timing could not be more telling. Just a week ago, my husband, Richie Delgado, said he was planning a surprise for me and Megan. He asked for the spare key to the mansion. I glanced past her at the crowd of party guests in the living room. “So, you’re saying you’re the lady of the house?” She sized me up and noted my simple outfit. “Who else if not me? You? You’ve ruined my daughter’s party. You’d better beg for her forgiveness now!” she said in a condescending tone. When I did not move, she warned, “My husband will be home any minute now. Do you know who he is? He’s the CEO of Beran Corp! A nobody like you can’t afford to cross him!” They were using my mansion to throw a birthday party for his illegitimate daughter. It was quite the surprise indeed!

I am finally pregnant with a child after being married to Anthony Johnson, my husband, who has azoospermia, for five years. Emily Johnson, my 30-year-old unemployed sister-in-law who lives off her family, tears the ultrasound scan apart and angrily accuses me of carrying someone else's baby. She then takes out a notebook packed with detailed records of every time Anthony and I have slept together since we got married. "In the past three months, the only time you slept with Anthony was three weeks ago; other than that, he never laid a finger on you! If you're over a month pregnant, then there's no way that baby belongs to the Johnson family!" I feel incredibly angry at the thought of being eavesdropped on all this time, so I seek out Anthony and demand an explanation. He merely looks at me with a pained expression and says, "You should just produce the evidence if you're innocent, Madison—just like Emily did." I laugh out of sheer exasperation. If they want evidence, then the baby I'm carrying is the best evidence there is.

I stood at the edge of Ironwood territory, boots sinking into mud as cold seeped through my coat. I hated being this close to their land. It smelled like wet dog, testosterone, and trouble. “You’re late, witch.” The voice hit low and deep, vibrating through the ground before it reached my ears. I didn’t flinch. I refused to give him that. I turned slowly, amethyst eyes narrowing as I found him at the tree line. Guilermo Santander. He stepped into the gray light, rain sliding off his broad frame. Six-foot-five of pure menace. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, silver streaks catching the gloom, and those amber eyes—burning straight through me. “I’m not late,” I said calmly, though my pulse spiked. “You wolves just don’t understand patience.” He stopped three feet away. My skin prickled as the runes along my ribs flared hot, reacting to the dense magic rolling off him. Suffocating. Intoxicating. “And you witches don’t understand territory,” Guilermo said. He didn’t sound feral. He sounded tired—like a man carrying a century of weight on deceptively young shoulders. He leaned in and sniffed near my neck. I stiffened. “You smell like sage and burnt sugar,” he murmured, voice dropping, darker now. “It’s giving me a headache.” “Then stop breathing,” I snapped. One corner of his mouth lifted, a flash of sharp canine. “Make me.” The air between us snapped tight. My magic stirred, violet haze curling from my fingertips without permission, brushing the leather of his jacket. He didn’t pull away. He leaned closer. And standing there in the freezing rain with a man who could tear my throat out, I realized two things: Elder Sibal was wrong—Guilermo wasn’t a monster to be chained. And I was in serious trouble.