The Genie In A Bottle

In a world where the werewolf kingdom is on the brink of war, the Alpha King is forced to offer one of his daughters hands in marriage in exchange for peace. When Princess Xendaya finds out that her younger sister has agreed to wed the Dragon King - a beast who is known for his callous, ruthless and deadly nature - she decides to take her place, making the ultimate sacrifice and signing away her freedom. Far from home and her people, will the head-strong werewolf princess survive in the kingdom of beasts? A place that is far worse than she thought. Her new husband is not only dangerous but has the sexual appetite of a hundred men. How will Xendaya cope knowing that her king has a harem and has no shortage of women? Agnarr, the Ruthless, is a merciless leader who has his eyes on a throne that he feels is his birthright, thrusting his people into the claws of full-out war and carnage. Will he continue to bottle his pain, rage, and hatred within him or allow his new queen to help guide him? How will Xendaya cope when her so-called husband turns his gaze upon her, his newest possession? How will Agnarr react when he realises he wants a taste of his new wife? And how will she remain strong and not succumb to her Dragon King's seduction? In a clash of wills, passion and desire, will the threat that hangs above them allow them to give in? Or will it simply drive them apart? ~~~ The sequel to The Alpha King's Possession Follow me on IG Author.Muse and FB Author Muse for updates, aesthetics and more!

I'm back to that night I was drugged with an aphrodisiac. My sister, Rosa Spencer, drags the most aggressive guy in the village, Theo Dawson, into the woods without hesitation. In my previous life, both Rosa and I had been drugged at the same time. She jumped at the chance to be with the promising young intellectual, Dexter Newman, and I was stuck with Theo. After what happened, Dexter took responsibility without a second thought. He threw a huge wedding in the village and married Rosa. Meanwhile, I ended up marrying Theo in a rush, with nothing but a tattered quilt. Seeing this, Rosa burst into laughter. "You were born unlucky, and you'll never beat me! My husband's going to college. His future's limitless!" Yet, to my surprise, Theo changed completely after we married. He spoiled me endlessly and even became the richest man in the state. Dexter, on the other hand, failed his college entrance exam due to cheating and could only make a living by doing odd jobs. After seeing me become the wife of the richest man in the state, Rosa suddenly ran to my house in tears. "My husband's a total loser. Years have gone by, and we can't even afford a decent apartment!" Out of sisterly sympathy, I landed her a well-paying job. But when she came to thank me, she smashed a whiskey bottle over my head. "We're sisters! How come you get to live better than me?" When I opened my eyes again, I was back to that very night Rosa and I were both drugged with an aphrodisiac.

It's been five years now since Claire escaped from the man she had had a one night stand with at the bar where she worked as a bar maid. By God! the man was wonderfully made, he was the man in every girl's wet dreams. With his dark and Mysterious looks, he was still so appealing. She had decided to visit him that night to tell him she had gotten pregnant for him, But then, she got the shock of her life. Her mysterious Lover was a freaking Werewolf!!! Ever since she ran away that night, she had kept running, with his child growing in her stomach. And now she has settled down in this city, far away from Jake. Working at another bar, that she now owned. The door bell rang. "We are closed" Claire said, her back facing the door, she was arranging washed glasses and bottles of drinks on the shelf behind the bar. "I noticed" Claire froze!. She whirled around to face the man still standing by the door. "Christ!" She screamed dropping a rum bottle she was holding, which shattered loudly as it landed on the hard floor. " No darling, it's Jake" He smiled. All she could think about at the moment was "Nate" her son...Well technically their son! Will Claire be able to accept the supernatural nature of her ex-lover? And let him into her life and the life of their son..who God knows needed his father. Jake on the other hand is being hunted by a ruthless werewolf hunter who had murdered his pack...and now is after him, the Alpha. Will he be able to protect himself and the woman he loves? And what happens when he finds out he has a son, who turned out to an hybrid!?

...Maurice stood looking at me, his eyes bright with fury. I saw him tight his fist and loosen it. “Let's get this damn meeting done!" He said, heading towards where I sat. “Of course we should, loser!" “Sit!" I ordered. Maurice stared menacingly at me for a few seconds, before he began to head to the empty bistro chair at my side. ‘Was this pauper thinking he could do anything stupid?!' I scoffed, sipping from my glass again before calling to one of my men. “Get another glass, Bill!" I ordered. Bill went in and in a flash he arrived with a glass in his hands, opening the bottle of spirit and pouring it to the empty glass. “I don't drink during business meetings" Maurice said. “Touché!" I chuckled, waving Bill away. **** Billionaire daughter, Natalie Escobar faces the dilemma of choosing between Kevin Fidell and Maurice Brown. Kevin Fidell is the heir of a multi billion dollar company, the son of her father's best friend and a smooth operator when it comes to love making. Maurice on the other hand, is a smart young man, insanely in love with Natalie and determined to keep the love burning despite Jane being in the picture. When Natalie's father faces a huge downfall in his company, Kevin and his father comes to the rescue, leaving Natalie with no choice than to accept Kevin's marriage proposal. In the eve of their wedding, the worst happens. Kevin's real identity comes to light. Would she proceed with the wedding or would she accept Maurice instead despite his low financial status?. Swipe through the book and find out!

By day, I'm just another quiet IT analyst. By night, I'm the deadliest mafia in the underground. No one at the office suspects a thing, except Isabella Moretti. She's the flawless manager, always with sharp heels and effortless confidence, who everyone dreams of working with. And the last person they'd ever suspect of being the princess of a powerful assassin clan… who also happens to be my sworn enemy. Every night, the game begins. The rules are simple: kill each other before we get killed. No feelings. No mercy. No mistakes. For a month, we've been locked in a deadly game, with each of us attempting to outsmart the other. Still, neither of us has managed to emerge victorious. But one night, everything changes. On my doorstep lies a baby, wrapped in a blanket. Alone. No note. No explanation. And before we can come up with a reason, a group of armed men appears, targeting neither one of us, but the baby. Men neither of us recognize. Men who don't belong to my world or hers. So, we call a temporary truce. Because even monsters like us aren't heartless enough to let an innocent die. Since then, mornings have been spent as coworkers, pretending we don't want to tear each other apart. Nights are spent trading threats between bottle feedings and fighting off enemies who won't quit. Every other mission I’ve ever taken was easy. One clean kill and done. But nothing has ever prepared me for the most dangerous and unexpected thing I've ever faced… Falling for the woman I swore to destroy.

My father-in-law said he wanted to experience "how the young folks have fun these days," so I took him to my wife's newly opened upscale cocktail bar for a quiet drink. I’d just finished ordering him a custom cocktail when a man from a booth across the room swaggered over, glass in hand. His eyes scanned the drink menu on our table, and a condescending smirk twisted his lips. "Only ordering the cheapest well drinks?" he sneered. "Brought the old man here to enjoy the free air conditioning? Trash like you belongs in a dive bar. Who even let you in here?" Anger burned in my chest. I stood up, my jaw clenched. "We're paying customers. What's it to you?" But before I could say another word, his face darkened with pure rage. He snatched the half-finished beer bottle from our table and smashed it on my head. "My girl owns this place!" he snarled. "Even if I crack your skull open, I can afford the payout! You filthy pauper—either get on your knees and lick my shoes dry, or get the hell out of my sight. You're an eyesore." The beer dripped down my face. My hands trembled with fury as I wiped it away. Then, a cold calm settled over me. I opened my phone, switched to the camera, and went live. "Alright, everyone," I said into the screen. "You won't want to miss this. We're going live to catch my cheating wife and see the double life she's been leading."

When I was seven years old, a handsome man Mom brought home gave me a box of mangoes. That day, Dad watched me happily eating the mangoes as he signed his name on the divorce agreement. Then, he jumped to his death. From that day on, mangoes became a lifelong nightmare for me. So, on our wedding day, I told my wife, Irene Johnson, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." She held me without saying a word. From that moment on, mangoes became forbidden for her as well. … On the fifth Christmas Eve after we got married, Irene's childhood sweetheart, Steven Carter, placed a mango on her desk. That same day, she announced that she was cutting ties with him and fired him from the company. That day, I felt that she was the woman destined for me. ... Six months later, I return from overseas after closing a billion-dollar deal. At the celebration dinner, Irene hands me a drink. After I drink half of it, Steven, the man who was kicked out of the company, stands behind me and grins. "Is the mango juice good?" he asks. I look at Irene in disbelief, but she is holding back a laugh. "Don't be mad. Steve insisted I play a joke on you. I didn't give you a mango, just a bottle of its juice. "But I think Steve is right. There's something wrong with you for not eating mangoes. Look at how much you enjoyed it just now!" she says. I keep a cold expression, raise my hand, and splash the remaining mango juice onto her face. Then, I turn and walk away. Some things are never a joke. Mangoes aren't, and neither is my decision to divorce.

PHOEBE - Holy mother of craps! I had lost my virginity to the college’s bad boy, Asher Gilbert. And, he told me it meant nothing to him. He told me to get lost! ********* ASHER - All my life till now, no one had ever intimidated me. Not anyone. Not my dad, nor the school principal… Not those street gangs… lastly, not the mafia. But this strange girl— a Maserati shows up. Making me urge to brand her, as mine. ********** “Why are you like this to me?” “What do you mean?” “Why are you so dismissive but save me, every time I land in trouble?” He didn’t reply that. Instead, he sighed, crunching the plastic bottle in his hand. He threw it in anger to the other side of the room. Then he approached me. I took three steps back, timidly. His intimidating gaze dropped towards mine. He didn’t stop until the back of my head contacted the wall. Only then did his both hands angle at the sides of my head. My eyes immediately gorged at his hard-on. Flash backs of the night we had together immediately ran through my brain. The only thing I could think of was the way my mouth was wrapped around him. His Adam’s apple swallowed numerous times, making me wonder what he thought of. It was like one of those scenes of movies. Like he was in a battle with himself. But the question was, what was he so protective about? Why didn’t he like making conversations with females? “I’m never gonna change, Phoebe. Remember that,” ********* What is worse than drunken one-night-stand, with the college’s bad boy? Or a cold treatment thereafter? However, one pregnancy changes it all. In this love so wrong, can they ever make things right?

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.