The Slap That Ended 18 Years Novels & Stories

For another girl, Lex Hamilton—my fiancé of several years—dumped me in the middle of nowhere and left me to fend for myself. Three years later, he showed up with her to bring me back. "It's been three years," he said. "Even a dog would've learned its lesson by now. I did this for your own good. If you don't fix that attitude of yours, don't expect to ever become my wife." They thought I'd crumble. They thought I'd beg, cling to him, and unload all the pain and humiliation I'd carried for the past three years. Instead, I smiled. "Sorry, Mr. Hamilton. I'm already married."

When I went to register my son, Cody Vantor, for medical insurance before his first year of kindergarten, I was told I wasn’t his biological mother. "Are you sure this is your child? The system shows a different woman listed as the mother." I said nothing. I quietly snapped a photo of the unfamiliar home address, then followed it to the neighboring complex. When he saw me, my husband, Dorian Vantor, froze. His hand instinctively moved to block the doorway. "So you found out. But making a scene won’t change anything. I haven’t treated you badly these past three years." I looked past him, and my body went cold. The woman behind him was my younger sister, Summer Walsh, fresh out of college

Rowan Nightshade slapped me in front of his friends, his guards, and the girl he had been protecting for months. The room went dead silent. Then someone whispered, “She deserved it.” For nine years, I had loved Rowan like he was my fate. I endured his coldness, his broken promises, and every time he left me standing alone because another girl needed him more. I kept telling myself it would get better. Rowan was my promised mate. Sooner or later, he would choose me first. But when his palm landed across my face, something inside me finally broke. Rowan thought I would cry, apologize, and forgive him like I always did. Instead, I walked out of the hall, deleted every way to contact him, and to

Ten years ago, Morris Amelia left her high school boyfriend without a single word and left for America to continue her studies. Despite the long distance between the both of them , Amelia couldn't stop loving the guy he left , even when she tried so hard not to show it on her face. Not able to continue torturing herself , Amelia decided to go after him but met her nemesis going after him. *** "Cheers for breaking the world fastest record Stanley!" Those words were said in unison among his male friends as they were celebrating his victory on the night he won the fastest record as the best swimmer. "Thank you guys" Stanley said, along the way he was roughly pulled up by a la

After seven years together, I called off my wedding to my fiancé, Jordan, two days before we were supposed to get married. The wedding planner looked at me in shock. “The wedding is less than 24 hours away. Aren’t you going to wait for the groom to come back before making the decision?” I simply smiled and glanced at the venue I had spent three months setting up, my voice indifferent. “Nah. He doesn’t have time for this. He’s busy getting married to his ex in Slandsdeca.”

Eight years after running away pregnant, I found myself crossing paths with my ex-husband, Howard Quinn. His friends stared at me in surprise. "So, this is what you have become after leaving Howard? Reduced to a cleaner?" When I was six-months pregnant, I met with an accident. While I lay there, he was staying by the side of another woman, his so-called true love, in labor, never leaving her side. When I confronted him, in pieces, he looked at me bored and impatiently. "Don't be so jealous and petty. I have no time for you. As long as you behave, you'll always be Mrs. Quinn." I couldn't stand it any longer, so I ran away, staying away for eight long years. Now, those sharp eyes glared

Seven years ago, I signed a mate contract as Luna. For my mother’s dying wish and for the Pack’s stability, I personally pushed a man with nothing to his name onto the Alpha throne. I held the Pack together for him, expanded our businesses, and handled the filthy negotiations and the deals no one wanted to see in the light. Everyone said— I was calm, I was formidable, I was qualified. Just… not much like a “gentle mate.” Until that day. I stood in the bedroom and watched my Alpha husband lay his hand over my paralyzed stepsister’s slightly rounded belly. They told me it was for the greater good of the Pack. That child would be registered under my name. He would call me Mother. I didn’t cry.

My best friend was a D-list influencer who'd blown six months of savings to drag me to a so-called "socialite finishing school." But then the instructor made us slap each other across the face — an "obedience test." I couldn't help it. I laughed. The next second, my friend was blacklisted from the entire circle, and her agent sent a termination notice. The instructor pointed at me and gave my friend an ultimatum: "Get on your knees. Slap her ten times. Then I'll lift the ban." My friend cried, trembling as she walked toward me. I sighed. The billion-dollar inheritance I'd just received — looks like the secret was about to come out.

This book is a spin-off of Damaged: Lala has made her escape from the biker leader Spin, although currently pregnant at eighteen with Spin having demanded she have an abortion. Three years pass between the time she leaves Spin before he finds her again. During the three years: Lala has changed her identity to Amory Williams, changed her look, and is the successful owner of the Spark Nightclub in Brooklyn, NY. She is also tangled in a complicated relationship with Jonny Knight. Jonny met Lala under her identity as Amory, when he left the US Navy. He's hired by her to protect her, but their relationship has built into something so much more than a business professional one. When Spin

I gave Julian Marchetti thirty years of my life after the war ended. I built his empire, raised his children, and held the family together behind the scenes. But when he died, his will didn’t even mention my name. Half his fortune went to our children. The other half went to Lydia Carter, the daughter of the man who’d saved his life in Normandy. The same Lydia who’d stolen my identity.The same Lydia who’d built her entire life on the ruins of mine. All he left me was a single note, scrawled in his familiar handwriting. I loved you. We had thirty good years. But I owe Lydia. This is the least I can do. I dropped dead of a heart attack right there in his study, clutching that pathetic piece of