The Kitchen House

Cora, an untouched omega who tried to escape the loan shark after her mother's death was captured by illegal group and sold to an alpha's household. All she wanted is a house to stay, but with his alluring soothing scent and sweet action pulled her closer to him, even the voice inside her head kept shouting to claim him as their alpha. Can she claim him when he was like a whether getting hot and cold with her...

When your fiancé and step-dad clash at your engagement party Your step-dad, young and handsome, has been single since he took you in 🤔 You thought he hated you, thinking you were just a burden But on the eve of your wedding, your fiancé abuses you, and you have nowhere to run 😩 So you escape to your step-dad's house for shelter… only to find out, after all these years, he wants you every day 💖🔥

Barely waking up, Lauryn hears someone pounding on her front door and finds herself face to face with a handsome man who looks like he just walked off of the cover of GQ. Agreeing to help him, she hands him the phone and a strange electricity pulses through both of them. Not thinking she would ever see him again, she is haunted by that night and tries her hardest to forget that once in a lifetime fling. However, destiny has it's way and she finds herself working under him. When Lauryn finds out that her mystery man is Darren, the CEO of Remedy Enterprises, she almost runs out the door and never looks back. Unfortunately, her house is in foreclosure and if she doesn't keep this job, she will be out of house and home. Now she has to make a decision. Either literally submit to him and give herself totally to his every whim, or quit the job she so desperately needs. Find out if Jake, the owner of Remedy Enterprises, causes more problems for Lauryn than it's worth. Or if Darren's domineering, possessive side turns her away. In any case, she may not be able to decide which man she can ever be with completely. Read Let Me In to see which one if any, fate's hand deals her.

Dean Romero is not your average Tiger Shifter. He is the king or the Neta of the Island Stripe Pride, operating out of Manhattan. Wanting to avoid the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, this Neta elects to spend Christmas at his newly built cabin in a remote section of the Pine Barrens just outside of Maccon City, New Jersey. A town notorious among supernaturals for its Shifter ties. Violet Martinez is a nail technician stuck working on the holidays. Asked to make a house call she has no choice but to drive to an important client’s house on Christmas Eve. She’d much rather be at home curled up with her favorite mug full of steaming spiked hot chocolate and a marathon of old black and white movies to keep her company. Resigned to her fate, she heads out in the wintry weather which has made the drive nearly impossible. Halfway there, Violet’s car spins out on a lonely stretch of road and she slams into a tree, hitting her head on the dashboard. Passing out in the cold with a head injury was not on Violet’s Christmas list, but good thing there’s a Tiger king who just happens to be out for a run nearby. When Dean gets a whiff of Violet’s sugar cookie scent all bets are off. This Neta wants her for his own, but will the dark-haired beauty accept him and agree to be his bride this Christmas?

My name is Akira Sy, or rather, Akira Sy Montenegro—18 years old. Yes, I’m married to the man I love most, Kyle Xavier Montenegro. He’s a businessman—handsome, incredibly successful, and has everything. I fell in love with him when I was 16, always dreaming that one day we’d be together, and yes, my dreams came true. The next morning, I woke up to a cold sensation on my face. I opened my eyes and realized it was water, soaking my entire face. I looked up and was met with Kyle’s dark, piercing gaze. I immediately felt a wave of anxiety. “K-Kyle,” I stammered, my voice trembling. He closed his eyes tightly, as if burdened by a huge problem. “Stand up, wh*re. I’m hungry. Cook for me, NOW!” he ordered with authority, making me scramble to get up without even bothering to wipe my face or change clothes. No, we don’t sleep in the same room. He’s in the master bedroom while I stay in the guest room because he finds me disgusting. It hurts so much when those words come from him. He’s always like that. I rushed down the stairs, tying my robe as I went, heading straight to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. Yes, I’m his secret wife. No one knows except our parents and a few friends. Since we got married, there hasn’t been a day when he didn’t remind me that he doesn’t love me. Not a day goes by without him hurting me, but it’s okay because, like I said, I love him so much that I’m willing to do anything just for him to love me back.

Sera Quinn had one job. Marry a dying man, keep her head down, and wait. Nobody told her that Damien Voss did not die on anyone's schedule but his own. She was twenty two years old when her stepfather sat her down at the kitchen table and explained her options. Her mother was sick. The bills were swallowing everything. And the most powerful billionaire in the country was lying unconscious in a private hospital ward with his family desperate enough to pay a small fortune to any woman willing to stand beside him at the altar. All Sera had to do was say yes. She said yes. She had no other word left. She moved into his mansion and tried to be invisible. She talked to him in the dark of his room every night because there was nobody else and because she was sure he could not hear her. She told him things she had never told anyone. She told him she was scared. She told him she was pregnant. Then she overheard four words that changed everything and she ran before the sun came up. Four years later she had rebuilt herself from nothing. A career. A spine. Twin children with their father's eyes. A case file she had been building alone, one quiet hour at a time, that connected a road barrier report to a name that would put people in prison. She had one rule. Stay away from Damien Voss. Then her four year old daughter hacked into his private server and left him a message. Damien was already in his car before Sera found out what her daughter had done. He was not coming to talk. And Sera Quinn was finally done running.

"I don't merely experience anger, Hiya. My feelings towards you go beyond that - it's a perpetual hatred. While anger may subside in a moment, this kind of hatred lingers for a lifetime. No matter how much one desires, such hatred cannot be eradicated. I harbor an enduring resentment towards you, Hiya!" The intensity of his words conveyed the depth of his emotions and the complexity of the situation. "You women are truly greedy. And you, Hiya, turned out to be just like that. Did you marry me for anything other than money?" Ahil's eyes became slightly moist as he spoke, but he couldn't contain his silence today. It felt like he was unleashing years of pent-up frustration on one woman. Pausing briefly, he began to roar again, "What do you think of yourself, Hiya? Will you go anywhere without telling, considering yourself the mistress of this house?" Then, after a momentary pause, he yelled, "But don't forget that your place in this house is worse than that of the servants. You are my slave and will always remain so. Because you created this place for yourself... never consider yourself the mistress of this house. And yes, you have no right to question me. Stick to the job you were brought here for and don't try to go beyond that. Otherwise, I will kill you...!"

My husband is cooking for his true love when his parents are abducted. I don't stop him from doing anything. Instead, I call the police. I've been reborn. In my past life, I stopped my husband from caring for his true love. In turn, he stopped his parents from leaving the house, helping them avoid a tragedy. However, his true love ended up getting an amputation after cutting her finger and getting a wound infection. My husband didn't blame me after the incident. His revenge only came a year later when I was almost due for labor. He tricked me to a remote cliff and pushed me off. "Nothing would've happened to Hailey if you hadn't stopped me that night! This is all your fault! Why is she the one who had to have an amputation? You're the one who deserves to die, you evil woman!" I rolled down the cliff while pregnant with his child and died a horrible death. This time, he leaves the house to care for his true love as he wishes. But when he returns, he falls to his knees in despair. He looks like he's aged a decade.

I was on a business trip out of town when I got a text from my neighbor. [Can you and your husband keep it down? Also, one of your undies fell onto my balcony.] Shocked, I opened the photo she had sent. The underwear wasn't even my style, but it matched the one I'd seen in my husband's online shopping cart. He'd told me it was a gift for me, but I remember noticing the size—it was one size larger than mine. When confronted with the neighbor's message, my husband swore that the house must've been broken into and claimed the intruder left the item behind. But something about his story didn't sit right, so I decided to dig further. That was when I stumbled upon his social media. His latest post was just three words. [I bought this.] It was paired with a photo of a lingerie gift set. Beneath it, there was a comment. [I'm wearing it.] Attached was a picture of a woman's legs—and the unmistakable background of my living room. The evidence was undeniable. I packed up the underwear and brought it straight to the police. "My husband says our house was broken into. This was left behind by the intruder, and it might have DNA on it."

I was always flying for work, so I left the whole renovation thing to my husband, Daxton Pruitt. This time, my flight got scrapped last minute, so I swung by the house to check in. The second I stepped inside, some woman named Mona Scambley, who claimed she was the designer, chucked a stack of invoices at me. Couples' lingerie display case: $15,000. High-end waterbed: $40,000. One glance at that pile of overpriced tacky nonsense made me nauseous. My brows pulled tight. "Ms. Scambley, this is a private house, not some couples' motel. What is all this?" Her face flipped in a heartbeat. She jabbed a finger at me. "The owner gave those orders. You're just the site supervisor. Disobey me again, and I'll have Mr. Pruitt fire you!" Then she spun around and called Daxton right there. I laughed, cold and low, about to ask what kind of clown show designer he'd hired—until I heard his voice. Gentle. Doting. "This is Mona and my love nest. We'll do whatever we want. Don't like it? Get out." I smiled, snatched the list from Mona, and nodded. "Sure." One week later, that overpriced waterbed showed up—Daxton, very much not smiling.