The Unworthy: A Novel Novels & Stories

The world outside moved on as if nothing had happened but for Sarah, time had shattered just like the wine glass she had dropped the night before. She sat in her small apartment, numb, as the city buzzed beyond her window. The betrayal still clawed at her chest, a relentless ache she couldn't shake. She had spent the night tossing and turning, replaying James’ cruel words over and over. "You never matched my status." "Chloe does." Sarah’s fingers tightened around the coffee mug in her hands. She had given that man everything, her loyalty, her trust, her damn heart, only to be tossed aside like she was nothing.

Her gaze flitted everywhere out of awkwardness as she exclaimed, "That's impossible! You've misunderstood me!" It turned out that heartless ingrates truly existed in this world. No matter how nice we were to them, they'd backstab us in the most vulnerable point. I merely brushed past Pamola before heading toward the living room. Howard Dentworth and Yolanda Myers could be seen slumping on the couch while nibbling on cashew nuts. Fruit peels and nut crumbs could be seen scattering across the coffee table and the floor. Shoes that were tainted with mud were strewn everywhere.

Not really, but I believed most of them were wrongly privileged and would rather use their wealth to oppress and selfishly control than help the underprivileged. And yes, I would categorize myself as an underprivileged person. If not, what would you call a broke owner of a struggling bookstore? "Hey, it's okay Amy, things will get better. You just moved to New York not too long ago and you're just starting out, so things won't just start out great from the beginning. It'll all be good pretty soon" Wilma stated as she came to me and held me. "Sometimes I can't help but think that I made a mistake coming here, maybe I should've just stayed where I was" I mentioned, getting my head up whiles ad

I’ve read all your comments, noted all the complaints and have poured all that into my next book. I am thrilled to announce that “The Unwanted Wife: Arranged To The Cursed Alpha”, is on the horizon. In this new tale, you’ll find amazing characters with deep chemistry. It’s a werewolf romance book but I promise you, it’s not the usual story you read every time. Our female lead, Alana, is feisty and passionate. I can’t wait for you all to read about her because I’ve never written about a character I love so much. The male lead, Darius, is just as stubborn as Damian. But there’s a twist. He is everything a woman would want, only if he manages to communicate with Alana who is dying to figure him

--- The next morning, Yvette went to the attic. She hadn't returned there since finding Elise’s final journal entries. Dust coated the old trunks and books. But there, hidden beneath a false floorboard, was the lockbox Elise once told her never to open. She broke it open. Inside were scrolls. Runes carved into bone. And a page torn from her mother’s grimoire: “To break a legacy of possession, one must inherit it wholly and reject it freely. Bloodline be damned. Fire must become ash—and choose not to reignite.”

She thought that it was their happy ending but she was so wrong it was just the start of her miserable life. Damon married Nina because that's the way of life. He liked Nina from his school life and she was his habit. But the truth is that Damon never wanted to marry her. One day, Something happened and Nina misunderstood that Damon was proposing to her. But he couldnt say that he was not proposing, he could never really say that he never wanted to marry her. He actually never wanted to marry anyone. But now here he was, married to Nina. Honestly, it was not as worst as he thought it to be. It was even pleasent to him at times. Nina was definitely an amazing wife. She made sure, she took car

This is the story of Motiesha, a natural yet complicated dark skinned woman who's life is about to change as she's drawn into places she can't escape with unfolding drama, action and comedic relief. DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. ★Please Enjoy★

I can't fathom how, despite being so careful with my life, everything is crumbling down right before my eyes. I sit there, feeling defeated and helpless. My mind races with thoughts of how I let this happen. I've always been diligent and responsible, but one moment of weakness has led to this. I think about Gabriel and how he must be feeling. I can't blame him for being angry with me. First, it was Maxwell's constant infidelity, leaving my marriage, starting life from scratch, and finally landing a job. Then came my promotion, and now this setup. But who have I offended to deserve such a wicked thing?

CLAIMED BY MY SAVIOUR SERAPHINA & REID The safe house smelled of rust, motor oil, and the faint copper tang of old blood. Nineteen-year-old Seraphina Laurent knelt on the cold concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse outside Juárez, her wrists zip-tied behind her back, silk blindfold soaked with tears and mascara. She’d been here three days, or maybe four. Time blurred when they kept the lights off most hours and fed her only enough to keep her conscious. Her cream-colored dress—once Chanel, now torn at the hem and stained, it was hiked up around her thighs from struggling. Bruises bloomed on her knees and the insides of her arms where rough hands had gripped too hard.

“Don’t you see what this means? If he comes back for you… you could be queen. You’ve always deserved more than just being Luna. You’d be perfect.” Her words slice deeper than she knows. My voice cracks. “Stop.” She blinks. “What?” "This is not a romance novel, and this is not a joke." “I don’t care if he’s a royal.” The heat in my chest breaks through as I yank my hands back. “My heart belongs to Dylan. I don’t want power. I don’t want a crown. I just want him.” Charity’s smile falters, replaced by something wary, almost pitying. “But Maddie… this mark doesn’t vanish. If it’s royal, it might never—”