Straight Jacket Novels & Stories

The Ice Apocalypse. We were trapped in an ice cave. My girlfriend, Janice Zeller, came to our rescue. My heart leapt, thinking I was saved! But Janice didn't even glance at me. She went straight to her childhood friend, Chad Stewart. "Chad's not in great health and can't handle the cold. Hang in there, Devin, another rescue team will arrive soon." By the time help arrived for me, I was completely frozen and had lost consciousness. While I was helpless to resist, Janice forcibly stripped my superpower away from me and gave it to Chad.

A week before my bonding ceremony, my younger sister traveled from a distant pack to be my maid of honor. While she was trying on her dress, the phone she had left outside suddenly rang. “Florence, can you answer that for me? I can’t get it right now.” I picked it up, and a male werewolf’s voice came through the line. “Baby, I bought you a gorgeous lingerie set. Tonight is going to be amazing.” I didn’t make a sound. A cold chill sliced straight through me. That voice belonged to none other than my mate-to-be, Dylan Conner.

Kevin, the elite bodyguard I'd spent ten years training, chose my adopted sister, Eva, over me when it came down to life and death. So I went straight to an underground fight club and picked out the craziest, most ruthless bastard I could find. A month later, Kevin got word and came rushing back, dragging his battered body past the guards at my door, fighting within an inch of his life. He knelt on the floor, eyes bloodshot, clutching the hem of my dress. "Principessa, what does that scarred stray have that I don't?"

I begged my husband ninety-nine times to go with me to Jay Boone's concert. On the hundredth time, he finally bought two front-row tickets. Dressed to the nines, I was stopped at the entrance by security because I couldn't produce my ticket. By the time the concert ended, I still hadn't been able to get through to him on the phone. News broke that my husband and his young girlfriend were at the concert, requesting "Sunny Day" from Jay Boone. The story shot straight to the trending charts. There's no rain in the lyrics of "Sunny Day." Because the only world caught in a torrential downpour was mine.

The legendary jewelry I ordered for my little sister had finally arrived at the boutique, so I brought her to pick it up. The moment we stepped into the mall, someone walked straight into me from the opposite direction. A cup of scalding hot coffee in her hand splashed all over my clothes. Seeing that the other person was a woman, I was just about to brush it off and say it was fine. However, the very next second, her crimson-painted fingernail jabbed straight at my forehead, and she spat right into my face. “Are you blind? Can’t you see where you’re going? Do you know how expensive this coffee is? It’s a special blend from the jewelry boutique! Someone like you can’t afford to drink it in your entire life!” She kept going, her words getting harsher by the second. Beside me, my sister’s eyes immediately turned red with fright. Not wanting to argue in front of her, I decided to call the police and let them deal with it. However, before I could do anything, the woman suddenly grabbed my sister by the arm. “So young and already with a kid so big, huh? Did you finish school before becoming someone’s mistress? Since you bumped into me in a mall owned by my family’s company, Jennings Group, I shall educate you on behalf of your parents today! Or you might cause even bigger trouble out there someday!” I froze. Jennings Group? As a daughter of the Jennings family, why haven’t I seen this so-called relative before?

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

“You’re just a whore disguising under your church teachings. So fucking greedy that you had to spread your pussy for my son after I’ve wrecked your sweet, tight hole.” Eli sneered into my ears. “Tell me, who fucks you better? Me or my son?” Raised in a strict church orphanage, twenty-year-old Iris St. Luke knew nothing about the world. She accepted a job as a live-in maid at the Hawthorne mansion just to escape—but she walked straight into a trap of pure sin. The Hawthorne family owned everything, and they answered to no one. Eli Hawthorne was the monstrous, billionaire head of the house. He didn't care about her holy background. The moment he caught Iris soaking wet in her uniform, he forced her to confess her deepest desires—and took her right there on his desk. But one devil wasn't enough. Dr. Liam Hawthorne was Eli’s brilliant, deceitful son and heir. Under the guise of helping Iris study medicine, he used his hands and his wicked smile to trap her mind, making it impossible for her to say no to his touch. Soon, Iris was a helpless maid by day and the secret plaything of both father and son by night. She knew she was going straight to hell, but she was too addicted to their rough touch, power, and shared obsession to ever run away. Content Warning: This book is dark, highly taboo, and completely shameless. If you are ready to watch a maid get beautifully ruined by a billionaire father and his son... flip the page. Happy reading!

In Alabama’s rot-soaked bayous, Drucilla Drakes survives by three rules: silence, scars, and never letting Louise—her Bible-thumping captor—catch her hoping. But when a schoolyard ambush leaves her bleeding beneath a stranger’s leather jacket, invisibility becomes a death sentence. Enter Dragon Morales: New Orleans’ most notorious runaway, a cartel prince turned outlaw mechanic with grease-stained hands and a death wish. He doesn’t save people—he survives them. Yet in Dru’s lashed flesh and hellfire gaze, he sees his own shattered reflection. Their bond is gasoline and matches. Dragon’s father—Colombia’s cartel kingpin—hunts them relentlessly. Louise, armed with voodoo rites and the chaos-hungry loa Marinette, vows to break Dru. Their only allies? The Lou Nwa, a bayou biker gang trading in bullets and black magic, and Papa Legba, the crossroads spirit who offers Dru a lethal bargain: *“Her soul or yours.”* Fleeing through the Deep South’s cursed underbelly, they dodge cartel hitmen, haunted swamps, and safehouses reeking of betrayal. Dark magic seeps into old wounds; family secrets tighten like nooses. Dragon swears he’s too ruined to love. Dru knows she’s too shattered to trust. But in the bayou’s choking heat, desire is a grenade they can’t outrun. This isn’t a fairytale. It’s switchblade kisses and saintly curses—a collision of fire and ruin where protectors become predators. Dru doesn’t need saving; she needs an inferno. And Dragon? He’s got a lighter and nothing left to burn. Will they raze the South to ashes, or become the sacrifice the crossroads demands? One truth remains: in the bayou, even survival leaves scars. **Warning:** No princes here. Just bayou smoke, blood-soaked magic, and the kind of love that devours.

"I'm sorry for what I'm about to tell you. I just don't want you to have any misconceptions about this marriage." "What do you mean?" "I don't like beating about the bush, so I will go straight to the point. I don't like you and don't want to get married to you. I had to consent because my mother requested this from me, and I just couldn't say no to her." "What are you now trying to say?" "You shouldn't have any expectations from me or from this marriage."

Famously known as the Ice Queen, no nonsense secretary to the famous ruthless president, Yelena had always her head straight and focus on what she wanted. And what did she actually want? Her boss, the tyrant of the business world. No one knew of her crush except her best friend. But that would be until Cayden, her male friend and younger brother to her crush, knew of her feelings and tries to get both of them together through an arranged marriage. Yelena is now faced with either to choose marrying her crush through an arranged marriage, or wait till forever when he MIGHT reciprocate her feelings ....