The New Life Book Review Novels & Stories

On the day of our wedding, my fiance Thomas Warsh was killed in a car accident on the way there. His adopted sister rushed toward me, clutching his ashes, accusing me of being a jinx who brought him misfortune. I was drowning in grief when a line of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You must remain a widow for three years for your deceased husband. After three years, he will be reincarnated and return to love you again!] [Don’t ever remarry. Otherwise, the male lead will never rest in peace, and you will suffer for the rest of your life!] That was when I learned that my fiancé and I were the hero and heroine of a novel. Only by following the spoilers in the comments and completing the storyline could I reunite with him. I did not remarry. Guided by the comments, I remained a widow for three years, and then another three. However, it was not until I suddenly died from a severe illness that I discovered the truth–the comments had all been written by Thomas. He had faked his death, changed his appearance, married his adopted sister, and fed me endless empty promises so I would continue to slave away for the Warsh family. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the wedding.

Alena Rossi walked in on her fiance Rayden sleeping with his secretary Stephanie in the house they shared. The chaos around her that unravelled for Rayden was beyond her reach and she hadn't cared enough to stick around and watch the fireworks. Returning to her homeland had given her unexpected surprises that she hadn't anticipated. Devon Tyler is the youngest mogul who took the real estate world by storm and was building an empire for his future. He had dominated a lot in the last five years that made him more elusive until he came face to face with his oldest friend's youngest sister Alena. The young girl who grew up next door to him until he was twenty one. The same little girl that didn't like him one bit as a child and detested his very existence like he was a peasant to her. Came face to face with the adult version, the stunning beauty who still refused to acknowledge him. So he made it his mission to charge at her with everything he has and too see if she dared continue to ignore the untouchable billionaire who refuses to be ignored. The little girl he watched from afar was now within distance and he was up for the challenge as he stared at her silently.

In front of the orphanage gates, Rebecca Schwartz, the impoverished student I had been sponsoring, stood glaring at me with a face full of disdain. "If you don't let Freddie come along, I'm not going to your house either," she declared, her tone sharp and unyielding. In the past, blinded by love and hopelessly infatuated, I would have caved to her demands, humbling myself just to keep the peace. But things were different now—I had been reborn. Staring at this despicable pair, who had once caused my tragic demise, a tidal wave of fury surged within me. Yet, it settled into nothing more than a faint, icy smile on my lips. "Then stay here," I said, my voice cold and steady. "Rot in this place alongside your precious Freddie. After all, trash like you belong in the garbage heap."

One night, my family sat together watching the New Year’s Eve Live on television. My little sister, Stella Larson, said she had to pee and hurried to the washroom. Half an hour later, she still had not returned. When I went to check on her, the washroom was empty. “When did Stella leave the washroom?” I asked my parents. Both of them were stunned for a moment before feeling my forehead and saying, “What are you talking about? You’re an only child. Who is Stella?” They forcibly pulled me back to my seat. My mind went blank. Did the three of them just pull a prank on me? After finishing his drink, my father clutched his stomach and rushed into the washroom. I stared fixedly at the washroom door. A long time passed, but no one came out. My father had vanished, too. My hand trembled as I pointed at the bathroom. My mother stepped forward to go in. “Don’t go in! Dad and Luna disappeared in there!” My mother looked grief-stricken as she said, “Sweetie, it’s been just the two of us for the past twenty-plus years, remember?” Her words hit me hard. I was in total disbelief. I explained myself frantically, but the more I spoke, the more confused my mother became. She finally shook me off and said, “Why are you doing this to me? I’ve raised you your whole life! Why do you have to ruin New Year’s Eve?” She walked straight into the washroom, and the house soon fell into a dead silence. Terrified, I called my best friend, Kathy Scott, who lived nearby. I rambled incoherently as I begged her for help. But her words utterly crushed me. “What family members? You’re an orphan.” I hung up the phone, rushed out, and pounded frantically on the neighbors’ door.

This is the sequel to Billionaire, Let's Divorce! and if you want to read on, head on over to my book Billionaire, Let's Divorce! and the subsequent chapters will be updated there. Thank you for your support! My heart rammed in my chest as each picture looked clearer than the previous one. I could swear my vision almost went blurry for a split second staring down at the screen. I zoomed in on the man's face, refusing to believe that the man who looked delirious as he mouthed the woman's boobs was my man. There were over a hundred different angles of him having sex with with this woman, and Aiden's face was AS CLEAR AS DAY! Then I threw my head back and laughed shakily. Definitely not. It could never be true. The last thing Aiden will do is cheat. Aiden, a cheater? Nah. He would rather say it to my face that he didn't want me anymore. Which wasn't even possible because we are both crazily in love with each other. I turned off my phone and looked ahead. Just a few more feet and I would be on his lawn. Since I am here, why don't I go find out myself then?

Parenthood is hard. It's even harder when you're a single mother with a smart eight year old in your hand. Zoey Martinez has been doing well providing for both herself and her child. Things changed one day when she got a complaint from one of her son's teachers about him being disruptive. It has been eight years since that dreadful night. Almost a decade since they last saw each other. Eight years since Xavier Danvers rejected his own flesh and blood. What will happen when the universe brings them back together? Has their love survived after all these years?

Jibran Hadid Malik is a tall, handsome, and intelligent man. He is a successful billionaire and the CEO of the Malik empire. He is living a double life on the one side if he is a billionaire carrying a name in the community of business locally as well as internationally then on the other side he is living in the disguise of a bodyguard, who is poor, illiterate, and miserable. Raamen Hayan is the daughter of Hayan. She is beautiful, innocent, and haughty. The most beautiful in her face is the three black dots carved in a triangle under her chin, which further intensify her beauty. She is the worst pampered daughter of her father. All negative qualities like ego, attitude, and haughtiness reside deeply in her. What happens when Hadid comes in front of her introducing himself as her bodyguard? Will she accept him as her bodyguard or kick him out of his job? How would Raamen react when she knows the true identity of Hadid? What could be the reason for Hadid hiding his true identity and manifesting himself as a wretched guy? Let's embark on their roller coaster journey which is full of annoyance, fun, love, and thriller drama moments.

The story is about a girl named Aiv, an introvert and a shy girl, who unexpectedly meets a guy, Kevin, who happens to be a deity under a curse. They struggle to keep up with the promise they made to each other under the Northern lights. They both have sides that both of them have yet to explore. But, little do they know that there's someone pulling their strings all along. Will they ever discover the mastermind? Can they find love amidst this cursed fate? Cover by: @LeelaSteele

My husband's childhood friend says she wants her crystal beads to soak up some of the good luck in our home. Because of that, he scatters the beads on the floor, making me slip and miscarry. I'm in agony as I lie on the operating table. I call my husband incessantly, but all he does is block my number. I lie in the hospital ward after the operation. I see my husband's childhood friend's social media update—a photo of him worshipfully holding out a certificate while getting down on one knee. It's captioned, "He loves me so much! I said I'm interested in running a business and he actually set up a company for me!" On the day of the branch company's grand opening, my husband's childhood friend wears an expensive custom-made gown. Meanwhile, I wear her discarded goods. I'm barred from even entering the building. I suppress my bitterness and call my lawyer. "Are the divorce procedures done?"

In New York’s Upper East Side, there were two heirs. One was a speed-obsessed daredevil dominating the racetracks, the other was a brilliant actuary who controlled the flow of capital. Born into powerful families and polar opposites in temperament, yet they grew up side by side as each other’s only best friend. They had fought over girls and bickered endlessly over racing bets. However, at fifteen, there was one thing they did in perfect unison. They each put on the same roughly carved bronze badge. They were trinkets Mia had idly made during a craft class, marked only by a faint “M” scratched on the back. Back then, Mia was seated in the last row of the classroom. Her background was a complete mystery to everyone. Yet they wore that badge for ten whole years. Whether standing on the F1 podium or locking in billion-dollar trades at the exchange, the cheap little badge on their chests never changed. Until Ella showed up. She was the cherished daughter of a rising conglomerate family. She hand-stitched two gold-thread fabric patches and gifted them to them. The patches looked so ordinary they looked like the kind of trinket you would find three for a dollar at a flea market. And yet, they both replaced their bronze badges with her plain patches. Mia did not say anything. She simply folded away an old newspaper clipping with a photo of the three of them smiling together. That night, she called her father in Sicily. Her voice was emotionless. “Papa, I accept the marriage arrangement.”