The Good House A Novel Novels & Stories

Mom always said my entire life ran on luck. When I ranked first in my class, she said, "You just guessed really well." When I won a gold medal, she said, "The judges must've been blind." When I got into Westridge University, she told everyone, "This kid has no real ability, just good luck!" So on my first day of college, she tossed me a book of scratch cards. "Since your luck's so good anyway, might as well let it handle your living expenses too. "You get one book per semester. However much you scratch off is all you get. "And just so you can't come crying to me about being broke, I'm blocking you now. I'll unblock you next semester." With that, she ignored every one of my desperate pleas and blocked me on every single platform. I wanted to cry but could not even manage tears. All I could do was scratch two cards every day. On good days, I would win 20 to 50 dollars. Most days, I won absolutely nothing. I survived by sneaking expired cookies out of my roommates' trash. By the last week of the semester, I had developed severe anemia. As I used every ounce of strength to scratch the final card, I laughed. Mom was right. My luck really was incredible.

I drive a Rolls-Royce to the venue where my high school reunion is held. When my former classmates ask me how much the Rolls-Royce costs, I tell them that it belongs to the company. They begin telling everyone behind my back that I work as a company driver, and that I'm not living a good life at the moment. Then again, the car does belong to the company. It's just that the company is mine.

In the third year of our marriage, my husband's first love got a divorce. He gave her the forty-five thousand dollars we had saved for a house because she was left with nothing and struggling to make ends meet. I urged him to ask for the money back, but he pointed at my face and angrily shouted, "You used to be so gentle and virtuous—what happened? Why are you so selfish, so shallow now?" "Is forty-five thousand dollars really worth you making a fuss over?" "Chloe is starting over with nothing, raising a child on her own. Don't you feel any sympathy for her?" Fine. He was noble, he was merciful. I did not argue further, because the one who needed money for cancer treatment was him, not me.

When I prepared to marry my boyfriend, his mother gifted us a brand-new house. But to my surprise, my future sister-in-law—who'd married into the family ten years before me—just up and moved into my new home. She stood there like she owned the place and announced, "Why should you get the new house? Both our husbands are sons of this family. How can they play favorites like this?" The truth is, when she got married, my future in-laws had given them a house of equal value too. It's just that ten years had passed, and their once-new home had simply grown old. My future mother-in-law just wiped her tears, clearly torn, but she didn't say a word. So I smiled and agreed to switch houses with my future sister-in-law. But she didn't stop there. "I've taken care of Mom for ten years," she said. "I spend no less than five thousand dollars on her every year. That's fifty thousand over ten years. You two should split that cost with us—just give me twenty-five thousand." The truth was, my future mother-in-law had spent those ten years helping them raise their kid, even draining her own pension into their household. I turned to look at her. Still, she said nothing. What they didn't know was that James Carter and I hadn't even filed our marriage license yet. They'd shown their true colors way too soon. As far as I was concerned, I wasn't setting one foot into that family anymore. And I swore that I'd turn their whole house upside down.

After Christmas, I went on a vacation. For the trip back, I failed to get a train ticket with a sleeping berth. Thus, I was tired and mussed when I got home. When I opened the door, someone shoved a bunch of cleaning tools at me. The man sneered at me and commanded, “Hurry up! You need to finish cleaning this place before 6:00 p.m.!” I looked at him and saw that he was wearing my father’s silk pajamas. I took a few steps back to check that yes, this was my family’s two-story mansion. It was my home, but who was this man? And what was this about cleaning? Did the man intend for me to clean? I was the son of the owners of the house! I messaged the family’s group chat and mentioned my mother. The message read, [@Mom, your boytoy is asking me to clean the place up. What gives?]

On the last day of the deadline for the loan repayment, I went to Liam Sommer's stepsister, Christine Sommer, to ask for the 300,000 dollars I had lent her. The next day, Liam threw a ledger I had never seen before in front of me. Liam said, "On your birthday last year, I transferred 8,100 dollars to you. On our tenth anniversary, I transferred 108,000 dollars to you. Also, at the beginning of every month, I transfer 20,000 dollars to you for your living expenses. You must pay me back by the end of today." I froze, but Liam smiled without a hint of warmth. "What’s wrong? You can't afford to repay me? Evelyn Lancaster, you shouldn't have given Christy trouble. This is my lesson to you. If you don't pay me back today, let's not meet for the next three years, and don't come looking for me." Over the next three years, I never saw Liam again, nor did I go looking for him. While he and Christine traveled around the world and wore couple rings, I married my childhood friend in front of our family and friends. While he and Christine walked along the beach and kissed, I moved into a new house with my husband, our cat, and our dog. Everything was moving along smoothly, but why was Liam standing under the window of my house in the middle of the night, crying and saying that he was unhappy?

Following the success of her two novels, Cela receives an offer for the TV adaptation of her stories but a third story has to be written soon to complete a three-story special. She is not in to the project until she rediscovers the paper bearing the address of the meeting place of her supposed first date with Nate. Now that her mother is no longer around to interfere, she becomes inspired to reunite with him after many years and hopefully write the third novel based on their new story. Unfortunately, he is now about to get married in two months. Disappointed with the turn of events, she decides not to meet him again. She visits their old meeting place and finds it a good place to write but unexpectedly meets him there. They agree not to talk to each other if they meet there again but fate leads them to meet again under different circumstances leaving them no choice but to speak to each other. Suddenly, Nate’s fiancée starts acting weird and suggests that he spend the weekend with Cela while she is away. Although it confuses him, he figures that it is her way of helping him get closure. The two spend one Sunday reminiscing the past expecting a closure in the end but the wonderful moment they share this time only makes it harder to achieve that closure so Cela has to put a stop to it saying, “Please don't think even for a second that there is still something left or something new to explore after everything that happened or did not happen. This is not a novel. This is reality. We don't get sequels or spin-offs in real life. We just continue. We move forward and that's how we get to the ending."

After Nathan Seville stands me up for the seventh time we're supposed to register our marriage, I finally cut all ties with him—completely and on my own terms. If he shows up at a gathering, I don't go. If he's invited to perform at the college anniversary, I leave early. The moment my company decides to work with him, I resign on the spot. Even on Christmas Eve, when he shows up at my house with gifts, I make up an excuse about needing to visit someone. Calls? Blocked. Socials? Deleted. My strategy is simple—cut it all off. I don't reach out, and he has no way of finding me. For the first 30 years of my life, I spent most of it loving him with everything I had. I cared for him, supported him, and waited for him. But after being left hanging for the seventh time at the City Hall, I finally wake up. I don't want to live like this anymore. Even if I end up alone, it's still better than spending night after night waiting in an empty house that never feels like home!

Forbidden Flames: Erotica Collection Rated 18+ | Mature Content Warning This book is for adults only. It contains explicit sex, strong language, taboo themes, power imbalances, and intense forbidden fantasies. Read at your own risk or pleasure. Forbidden Flames: Erotica Collection sets fire to raw, unapologetic short stories where desires ignite and boundaries burn. Behind every locked door, late-night office, shadowed corner, or family beach house, control crumbles and pleasure takes over. A rebellious student tempts her married professor into desk-bound ecstasy. Lifelong best friends confess hidden cravings in a champagne-soaked hotel suite. A protective older brother comforts his heartbroken sister until hugs turn carnal. A devoted wife teases her husband with filthy texts from a stranger’s lap, then rides while he watches in voyeuristic shadows. Step-siblings reunite and drown in years of unspoken lust. A tough cop “interrogates” a caught thief in her cruiser. A shy patient surrenders to her doctor’s dirty exam. Strangers collide on a rocking night train. A yoga instructor stretches more than posture in private sessions. A vampire claims his prey with hypnotic bites and thrusts. These tales are fast, filthy, and mercilessly hot—dominance that commands, submission that begs, risk that electrifies every touch. Possessive professors, teasing wives, forbidden siblings, power-play cops, and strangers who seize what they crave—no regrets, just sweat-soaked sin. No slow burn. No holding back. Just skin, heat, and desire that leaves you breathless and aching for more. If you crave professor pets, secret flames, sibling sins, cuckold thrills, and every taboo edge—Forbidden Flames will consume you. Steamy | Taboo | Forbidden | Professor | Best Friends | Siblings | Cuckold | Power Play | Risky Encounters | Dominant | Voyeuristic [Collection expanding with fresh heat 🔥]

I rush into work this morning and accidentally send the car photos meant for the dealership into the medical intern group chat. The new intern snaps at me. "Dr. Tyson, why are you sending me pictures of my car? Are you jealous and trying to steal attention?" I stop short and ask if she has mixed things up, because the car is mine. She fires back with a whole stack of photos of herself driving a G-class with one hand, plus videos to prove the car in my picture belongs to her. She even tacks on a snide little jab. "You're a shameless, broke wannabe. You want any spotlight you can grab. You think a picture of a car is going to make you the lady of the Reed family?" I frown and turn to my husband, Jackson Reed. "Since when does the Reed family have a second lady of the house?"