Tang Jia San Shao

Evelyn Monroe is a 27 year old kindergarten teacher who absolutely loves kids. Things change when Evelyn's twin brother - Everett suggest she becomes his best friend (Cassian James)’s daughter's nanny for a month that was going to be very busy for him. As far as Everett is concerned, it's good as she’s between jobs since she’s planning to move states soon. There is only one problem. Evelyn and Cassian can’t stand each other. They’ve never been able to. She finds him insufferable, and he thinks she’s annoying. Everett convinces them that they haven’t seen each other in 6 years, and they’re adults now. He’s sure the childish bad blood is a thing of the past. He’s wrong. The two still can’t stand each other. They’re at each other’s throats the moment they meet again. The only thing that’s changed is… well… they can’t keep their hands off each other. As it turns out, anger is great passion fuel. Everything is fine, and Evelyn is even beginning to like Cassian. She stays an extra two weeks even, when Cassian can’t finish up work in time. His little girl Amelia is an absolute sweetheart as well. Everything is fine until Evelyn can’t find her period. She’s pregnant, and it’s Cassian’s. She asks Cassian if he wants another child and he says no, which is why he got a vasectomy. Evelyn says nothing about the child, and leaves for her fresh start as previously planned. A whole year passes like this until Cassian is visiting San Francisco for business and decides to drop in on her, hoping to rekindle their flame. He finds her with a baby, and realizes quite quickly that it’s his.

I was the person Henry Johnson, the head of the San Nello mafia, loved more than anyone else. He loved me with absolute devotion. During our three years of marriage, he spoiled me endlessly and treated me like a princess. Yet this same man, who claimed to love me so deeply, divorced me three times, each time for the sake of his childhood sweetheart. The first time, intimate photos of them at the airport went viral. That very night, he placed the divorce papers in front of me. "Selena," he said, "Melanie's father once saved my life. I can't allow her to be condemned as a homewrecker. Let's divorce for now. Once this storm passes, we'll remarry." With my heart in pieces, I signed the papers and prepared to leave. However, at the airport, Henry stopped me. He broke down in front of me and begged, "I've already taken care of the media. Melanie has gone abroad again. I've repaid everything I owed her family. Please don't leave. Let's get married again." His tearful pleas softened my resolve. That was the first time I forgave him. The second time, he came to me looking utterly worn out. "Melanie was implicated by her boyfriend and ended up in prison," he said. "I need to bail her out as her spouse. Once she's free, we'll remarry right away." I believed him. That time, he kept his promise. He returned and remarried me. The third time, he lowered his head and hesitated, unable to look me in the eye. "Melanie is about to give birth," he said. "An unwed pregnancy would destroy her modeling career. I have to help her. This will be the last time. Once the child is settled, we'll remarry. I promise this will never happen again." I looked at him for a long time. In the end, I answered softly, "Okay." However, on the day we were meant to register our marriage again, I never appeared. Any love I still had was worn away bit by bit. In the end, I left for good, taking with me not only a broken heart, but also the unborn heir he would never know.

The Moretti Family's Thanksgiving party was in full swing downstairs—crystal clinks, fake laughs, classic mafia gloss. Meanwhile, I was curled up in a servant's room on the third floor. Jackson Moretti's wife. Legally, anyway. My hands were ice. I gripped the ultrasound report like it could anchor me. Three heartbeats. Strong, steady. It was supposed to be a surprise—his big Thanksgiving gift. To the outside world, Jackson was a polished Stanford grad, running a top-tier consulting firm in San Francisco. But behind the scenes? He ran the Moretti empire—cold, calculated, pulling strings in the West Coast's darkest corners. Three years of marriage and we barely spoke, but I still clung to the hope that maybe... maybe there was something real left. Then I heard him downstairs. "You really not letting your wife come down?" "Isabella?" He laughed. "She'd kill the vibe." Another voice chimed in. "Lina's back, right? Wild you married her twin. Which one do you actually like?" Jackson didn't miss a beat. "Isabella's just a stand-in. Quiet. Predictable. I could tell her to drop dead and she'd say 'okay.'" "So when are you ditching her?" "Dunno. She thinks she matters. I'm just playing her." I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sob. A minute later, I was heading downstairs, numb. I brushed my fingers over my belly. "Sorry, babies," I whispered. Triplets. His. He thought I was blind. Weak. Stuck. What he didn't know? A quiet woman, once she snaps—she can burn it all down.

Parting had never been so painful for lovers whose connections was so strong and whose bond was simply unbreakable. When Tristan, a simple man whose life was filled with plans and steady waves that never shook him had to leave his beloved Danica when a mighty wave had taken him off balance and pushed him into being a coward, he thought it was going to simply be as simple as it had always been. Danica would remain in the dark and wouldn’t hate him and he would never return to his dark life. It was a simple plan, he would leave, get settled and bring his beloved Danica with him where he would not be found by the beast of a man who was targeting to take his blood, his peace and his life along side. The universe had a different plan when running away simply was not enough and his beloved Danica got tangled up with the mafia boss of San Diego, his younger brother. And it was no longer as easy as he wanted. Not just because he was so far away, or because Danica was tangled with his brother, it became difficult when Danica’s revenge scheme instantly took hold of her heart and pushed her into doing the very thing that would tear them apart. “Its simply a part of the plan,” she had said when he had confronted her about the relationship she had with his brother. But it was more, it was more because love, blood and revenge tangled them together. Where Danica had to either choose to take revenge for her father’s death and harm the men she loved the most or simply forget, pick one of the brothers and love him while her father’s murderer move around freely?

"What is this? Are you dying anytime soon? How many days do you have left?” “I believe you know how to read clearly. Go through the results. I’m sure you will be the one leaving anytime soon.” She said confidently. I stared at her once more and proceeded to read the contents of the paper. “You are pregnant,” I said and she smiled. “Yes darling, and guess who my baby’s father is?” I shook my head at her disbelievingly and she nodded her head. “Yes, Eliott is the father of my unborn baby.” “Do you expect to believe such baseless accusations? I am not dumb, Emma. “I know it’s hard for you to believe but, Eliott never broke up with me. Did you think that all the excuses he gave were real? Even Elon Musk doesn’t have a schedule that’s as tight as that. He spent most of his time with me and that is how we made a baby.” She rubbed her abdomen and I chuckled hard. She was lying. She had to be. *** “Mr. Winconstin, your ex-wife is back!” I raised my head from the magazine I was reading. It was no news that Oleander was back in San Francisco. She took over her family's company and was bent on restoring it's lost glory. I should admit it, she never seemed like a business lady to me. “She didn't come alone.” I sat up. Has she moved on already? “She came back with two children and the boy is your carbon copy.” Instantly, blood filled my nose. Was she pregnant then? Why didn't she tell me? Why did she decide to keep my children away from me? “Get the car ready. We are heading to the Thayer's company immediately.”

It wasn't just about what this lady was wearing. It was her. Something to do with the way she moved. Like she was one with the music and with the stage. The music pounded in a hypnotic rhythm that was unashamedly sexual, and she moved and danced in time to the beat, her movements graceful and seductive. So much confidence and balance. Balance that should have been nearly possible with the length of the heel shoes that she was putting on, but she made it look so natural... So easy, like she'd been born with high, slender spikes attached to her feet. There was something captivating... Almost hypnotizing about this woman, and Dimitri found him self leaning closer to watch. To take in every sight of this beautiful goddess. She was a vision of feminine perfection, every man's fantasy and Dimitri felt sharp claws of lust drag through his loins. On the opposite side, Dimitri saw a man half rise to his feet, a look of longing in his eyes. He didn't blame the man. What man wouldn't be captivated by such a beauty? -------------------- Nervous about assuming control of her father's company, Kelly Darcy relocates to San Francisco. In an attempt to do something she loved one more time before her life changed completely, she volunteers to replace a dancer in her friend, Elizabeth's fashion show and ends up in the arms of Dimitri Collins. It was supposed to be a one night stand. She didn't have to see him again. But Kelly realizes how wrong she was when Dimitri walks into her father's office... And now she has to fight to keep her father's company, while figuring out what she truly feels for Dimitri.

My ex-husband is getting married. and.... I’m the one hired to plan the wedding. My name is Arabella Paloma Garcia. Five years ago, I was arranged to marry an Italian heir with an angel’s face and the personality of something between a blizzard and a natural disaster: Rafael Vittorio Ricciardi. We spent one year of marriage arguing hard enough to make a lawyer retire early. Then his ex came back, and I left with a divorce bracelet on my finger… and a pair of babies in my belly. Now I live in San Francisco. I own a wedding planning company, I’m a single mom to two demon twins, and I’m very, very proud of the fact that the name Ricciardi doesn’t appear anywhere in my life. Until one email lands in my inbox: Ricciardi–Marino Wedding. Groom: Rafael Vittorio Ricciardi. Bride: Alessandra Marino… the woman who once became the reason I got kicked out of his life. I should’ve said no. But Alessandra is infuriating, and I want to prove I’m over Rafael. So I take the job. But he walks in with a cold stare that sends my stomach straight to the floor. No recognition. A helicopter crash two years ago wiped six years of his life. Including me. Including our marriage. Perfect. I’ll plan my ex-husband’s wedding, send him down the aisle, and go back to my life. The plan goes smoothly. Right up until the wedding day. The bride disappears. The guests are waiting. The media is already rolling. And Rafael closes the bridal suite door… drops a bomb that earns him my fist in his face: “You’re the one who going to walk down the aisle with me.”