Spring Bonnie Suits

Given a new chance at life, upon learning of my husband's supposed death, the first thing I did was to register him as dead. In my previous life, after my husband, Jonah Lloyd, learned that his elder brother, Noah, had died in an accident, he resolved to assume his brother's identity and provide for his widowed sister-in-law. All because the young widow from the city couldn't withstand the gossip of the village. As for me, coming from humble origins, even without my husband, I could survive on my own. When I heard the news, I truly believed that my husband had died in an accident. I was determined to raise our daughter with all my heart. That year, during a blizzard, while his family huddled together and celebrated in the warmth, I was out there fighting over the money after selling my body. I bled out and died in the harsh, cold night. My daughter, Tina, left waiting for me to bring back good, starved to death in the bitter winter. Only after death did I learn that my husband hadn't died. He had spent his entire life in his brother's name, protecting the widow, living to see his children and grandchildren grow old around him. And now, reopening my eyes, I had returned to the very day my husband died in an accident.

Fall in love with these hot first responders featuring friends to lovers, second chances, and suspense at every turn. The Laurel Springs Emergency Response Team is created by Laramie Briscoe, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

The day after his beloved falsely accused Yvonne of hitting her with a car, her husband and two sons hung Yvonne’s younger brother above a massive vat of bubbling oil, threatening to deep-fry him alive. Yvonne rushed forward like she had gone mad, but the bodyguards held her back tightly. “Have you learned your lesson?” Justin stood nearby in a crisp suit. His sharp features were cold, and his voice was edged with ice. “Will you dare hurt Sophia again?” “I never hit her!” Yvonne cried, struggling desperately. “Justin, let my brother go! He’s only 18. He just got accepted into MOT University!”

The most reckless thing I had ever done was turn my back on the Moretti name and leave St. Clair Harbor with Lucian DeLuca when the Commission pushed his family out and he had nothing left. For three years, we lived in a drafty Brooklyn loft and ducked black Chevrolets on winter nights. Then Lucian fought his way back to the East Coast table. Everyone started calling him Mr. DeLuca again,and I became Mrs. DeLuca, the woman he swore he would always protect. Then Clara Voss appeared. She had once saved his life as a night nurse at an underground clinic, and Lucian never forgot it. He bought her a clinic, protected her family, and let her step, inch by inch, into the middle of our marriage. He said he still loved me, but he also said I was spoiled, jealous, and needed to learn my place. So I did. I signed the divorce papers and left New York behind. Mrs. DeLuca was dead. Evelyn Moretti had come back.

Jennifer Martinez is a beautiful girl. She has the noble temperament of a great lady in a rich family. She always wanted to be in control of her life, like a resilient sunflower in the wind, will not bloom for anyone, nor wither for anyone. But when she met him, time changed everything, in the end, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't avoid falling in love with William.William Jackson is the only young master of the World Group. This Group World is one of the top ten financial groups in Southeast Asia. He is bossy, cold and hard to approximate the nature of a rich young man. He thought that in his whole life, there would be no girl that made him really flutter. Both Jennifer and he got married only because of the arrangement of the two families. A loveless marriage. After living together, going through many ups and downs, the two realized that they loved each other very much. But... the tribulation is not over yet. Will the two of them overcome this tribulation to embrace happiness together? Or will they let go first, letting the budding love quickly snuff out? We invite you to read.

An accidental act of heroism reshaped Sera’s life entirely. She lost her sight saving the grandmother of a stranger. In return for her goodness, she was forced into marriage with the old woman’s grandson, Lucian Vitale. He was a mysterious businessman with no interest in love, and as people whispered, colder than ice. Given her circumstances, Sera had no choice but to accept. She became his pretend wife, bound by contract. It was a kind of relationship she’d never imagined living. Sera had never planned to fall for a man she’d never seen. But with every touch, every murmur from Lucian, she was slowly pulled under by longing and feelings that should never have taken root. In darkness, she learned to love—and to bleed. Then came the day her vision returned. She heard a truth that shattered her world and tore at her heart. Frightened beyond reason, Sera ran and vanished. She carried a secret in her womb: the child of their passionate nights together. Four years slipped by. A man stepped back into her life. Same voice, same scent, same way his hands found hers… but he did not know her. He had amnesia. Can Sera escape the man who once meant everything to her? Or is this fate’s way of calling them back to settle what they began—in their beds, their hearts, and the secrets that still wait to be told? Between lies, desire, and memories… will they choose each other still?

“That video in the group chat was filmed in your bridal suite, wasn’t it?” one of the women asked with a grin. “Sleeping around right under Adela’s nose? That’s bold.” Lorenzo leaned back, swirling his drink, looking pleased with himself. “Yes.” “I used to be too sick to do half the things I wanted,” he said, tapping his chest. “After the transplant, I realized spending the rest of my life with only one lover would be a waste.” The room erupted. He let them laugh, then added, “I set myself a goal. One hundred places before the wedding. Once it’s over, I’ll settle down. After that, my body and my marriage belong to Adela.” More laughter. More glasses raised. I stood outside the door with one hand pressed hard against my chest, where an artificial heart kept beating. Lorenzo never knew I had learned his language. He also never knew that I had already discovered he was keeping Vera—our wedding’s mistress of ceremonies—behind my back. And because he had hidden something from me, I had hidden something from him. I had already booked an assisted death service overseas.

On the day of the earthquake, my sister Elena shoved me off the third floor, then burst into tears and said she had only been trying to save me. Everyone believed her. The only person who stood on my side was Nicolo, the youngest mafia boss Sicily had seen in decades. He lifted me out of the rubble, then proposed to me in front of everyone and said that from that day on, anyone who touched me would answer to him. Two months later, I was pregnant. Nicolo bought an entire island and planted it with my favorite irises for our wedding. My father spent a fortune on a one-of-a-kind gown made just for me. Everyone said I was the most envied woman in the family. Then I went into labor, and both of them disappeared. My father said the family had a deal on the line. Nicolo kissed my swollen belly, murmured that he would be back soon, and promised to bring gifts for me and the baby. Right before I was wheeled into the delivery room, an anonymous video landed on my phone. Nicolo was wearing a groom's suit. Elena stood beside him with a hand resting on her pregnant stomach. She was wearing my wedding dress. Her arm was looped through my fiance's as if she had won him fair and square. At the end of the clip, my father asked in a lowered voice, "If you and Valentina stay married only on paper, what happens to the child she gives birth to?" Nicolo was quiet for two seconds before he answered. "Valentina grew up with everything. Elena spent her whole life carrying the stain of being illegitimate. Her child will not grow up the same way." So all that tenderness had never been for me. It had all been for Elena. Fine. They could have each other.

Lucien Varelli loved me best when my madness belonged to him. I tracked his convoy routes, checked his burner phones, and almost turned the city upside down whenever he disappeared for more than five minutes. At first, Lucien loved it. He kissed the signet ring on my hand and swore no woman, no family, no power in the city could ever take him from me. Until the night I cut off a call from Celeste Ardian. After that, I was no longer his wife. I was a problem. A scandal. A woman too unstable to stand beside the heir of a ruling house. So Lucien signed the papers and sent me to St. Dymphna House. They called it a private residential clinic. What it really was, was a place where inconvenient women were broken down and rebuilt into something quieter. Five years later, Lucien came to take me home. The director told him I had done beautifully. I no longer screamed. I no longer fought. I knew how to lower my eyes, soften my voice, keep my hands still, and smile like a proper Donna. Lucien thought they had cured me. He was wrong. They had not cured my madness. They had only killed the part of me that once loved him.

My mate, Kane Blackwood, was the most feared Alpha in the Northlands. For three years, he treated me like something that belonged to him. He would drag me into his arms on the stone steps after moon rituals, pin me against the wall in Blackthorn Keep’s long corridors, and bite the mark on the back of my neck beside the patrol trails in the border woods, as if he needed everyone to remember exactly whose Luna I was. I used to think that was his way of loving me. Rough. Possessive. Lacking tenderness. But love, all the same. Until one night, I stopped outside the council hall and heard an elder say in a furious voice, “Those charcoal sketches on the black market were released by your people, weren’t they? Every one of them is of you and Elena in bed. She has become a joke across the pack. Do you even understand what you’ve done?” There was a brief silence. Then Kane said, coldly, “She is the Luna the council chose for me. She is not the woman I wanted.” I stood frozen outside the door. All those years, I thought his roughness meant he loved me too fiercely to be gentle. But it was never love. It was humiliation. Punishment for taking the place of the woman he actually wanted. I lowered my eyes to the moonstone bracelet on my wrist, the one he had clasped there the day our mating contract was sealed. If that was all I had ever been to him, then I would leave.