The Way He Looks At Her

Love's Eternal Way Sixteen-year-old Serenity Palmer's biggest problem should be avoiding her father's arranged marriage contract with Thomas Blake, the arrogant senior who's made her life miserable for three years. But when a school trip to a French château triggers vivid dreams of a past life, Serenity discovers she and Thomas were once lovers—murdered on the eve of their 1722 wedding. As memories of their tragic death resurface, Serenity realizes their history teacher, Mrs. Hargrove, is the reincarnation of the obsessed servant who killed them. Worse, she's orchestrated this entire trip to finish what she started three centuries ago. With Thomas's best friend Louis—who harbors secrets of his own past-life memories—and Serenity's friend Ava, they uncover a conspiracy spanning five lifetimes. Mrs. Hargrove isn't working alone. The real mastermind is someone much closer to home: Thomas's best friend Axel, the reincarnation of a spurned nobleman who has spent centuries manipulating their relationship from the shadows. Every cruel word Thomas ever spoke, every moment of distance between them, was carefully orchestrated to keep them apart. Now, trapped in the same château where they once died, Serenity and Thomas must break a cycle of obsession and revenge that has followed them through multiple lifetimes. But breaking free will require the ultimate sacrifice—and a love powerful enough to rewrite the rules of life and death itself. A supernatural romance about soulmates who refuse to let death have the final word, Love's Eternal Way explores how true love transcends time, memory, and even the grave. Some bonds are eternal—but so is the hatred of those who would destroy them. Perfect for fans of reincarnation, romance, and paranormal suspense.

On the day of the college entrance examination, my boyfriend's childhood friend realizes she has left her admission pass at home. He insists on going back to get it for her, but I try to stop him. In the end, she misses her liberal arts examination. Driven to despair, she jumps to her death. Later, my boyfriend and I are both admitted to Bloomdale University, the best university in the country. We build successful careers and earn seven-figure salaries—our marriage is perfect. However, on the death anniversary of my boyfriend's childhood friend, he stabs me repeatedly, taking my life. "It was your fault she died," he says. "If I had gone back to get Ginger's admission pass, she wouldn't have lost hope and taken her life." When I open my eyes again, I realize I am back on the same day of the examination. My boyfriend's anxious voice rings in my ear. "Amelia, I need to go back to get Ginger's examination admission pass." This time, I smile and say, "Go ahead. Please be careful."

At 4:30 in the morning, my husband answered a call from his ex-girlfriend and accidentally put it on speaker. "Jason, my daughter, Alison, has a fever—over 104. I can't get a ride..." The sudden sound of sobbing jolted me awake. Jason hurriedly turned off the speaker and lowered his voice. "Send me your location. I'll come right away." It seemed he had forgotten that today was my first prenatal checkup.

“Say it.” Elara’s throat tightened. “I belong to you,” she whispered. “I am your slave.” Kane Blackthorn’s gaze hardened. “And?” Her voice broke. “I am… your sex slave.” The Alpha stepped closer, his shadow swallowing her whole. “You will expect no kindness,” he said coldly. “No affection. No protection. You exist to obey me.” “Yes, my Lord.” “Strip, Elara.” Elara once lived in the Blood Moon Pack as the daughter of a powerful man. Now she lives in the Alpha’s palace as something far worse than a servant. A slave. Alpha Kane Blackthorn rules his pack with an iron will and an untouchable reputation. Mercy is not something he offers twice. And Elara belongs to him now. She should hate him. She tries to. But the deeper she falls into the Alpha’s dark world, the more dangerous things become. Because Kane Blackthorn doesn’t look at her like a slave. He looks at her like something far more dangerous. Something he might never let go.

Rayna Nathania never knew when her love had turned into pain— Alpha Darius Blackthorn, her husband who had once been her protector and support, gradually became cruel—hurting her without mercy, while his heart turned to Laura Kiel, Rayna’s twin who had always lived in her shadow. Everything collapsed at the clan gathering. In front of the Alphas and nobles, Darius held Laura’s hand, choosing her openly, and tore Rayna apart—stripping her of everything—as a wife, as Luna, as a woman. As Rayna wished to vanish into the night and her shame, a man emerged from the darkness— Reagan Valerius Blackthorn, Darius’ older brother, the true Alpha who had long been hidden, the leader of the most feared clan—appeared with a cold aura and power that made the entire clan bow. He was not Darius’ enemy… he was the Blackthorn family’s greatest secret. Reagan did not come to seize the throne. He came to reclaim what had been taken—truth, power, and the woman destroyed by the blood of his own kin. And from that night onward, Rayna realized one thing: what was truly broken was not her—but the fate of Darius Blackthorn, who had dared to cross forbidden boundaries. Area 18+ Please be wise in choosing reading material.

A stampede happened at my daughter's kindergarten. Timothy Horuson was in a hurry to save his first love's son, and he pulled away someone else's hand. A hand reached out to him, hoping for him to save her. His daughter's hand. And the light in my daughter's eyes faded. The longing for fatherly love she had held on to for so long vanished. I risked my life to save her. She looked at me quietly. "I'll go with you, Mom. We'll leave Dad behind and go somewhere he'll never find us."

The day before we are supposed to go abroad to get our marriage registered, George Anderson slips a five-carat diamond ring onto my ring finger. "Geri, once you wear this, you'll be Mrs. Anderson for the rest of your life." Before I even have time to feel moved, his tone suddenly shifts. "But I've already canceled tomorrow's flight and asked for a refund. Let's put off the registration for now." He slowly turns the rosary beads on his wrist, speaking as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "Mia's depression has relapsed. She's threatening to jump off a building. The only thing that can calm her down is getting a marriage certificate with her. "I have to go register my marriage with her right now. If she finds out I married you abroad, she'll lose her mind." I freeze and stare at him in disbelief. However, he ruffles my hair with eyes full of indulgence and helplessness. "Be good. It's just a piece of paper. Once her condition is stable, we'll have our wedding. If you really want to go to Frosh Isle, just join a tour group yourself." I watch as his figure retreat in a hurry and touch my lower abdomen. Then, I tear the prenatal checkup report for the twins in my bag into pieces. Next, I make the call for my final confirmation of starting the overseas study program. I no longer intend to see the aurora in Frost Isle with George.

Two years ago, Fabiola Cruz walked out of Alessandro’s life without warning, taking his heart and vanishing into the shadows. Now, he’s no longer the reckless man who once whispered forever into her skin. He’s Alessandro Armani, a ruthless billionaire kingpin feared across continents. He’s a feared Mafia Don with ice in his veins and blood on his hands. Love is a weakness. And Fabiola? She’s the ghost who made him ruthless. So when fate throws her into his world again, working as a waitress in a club, desperate to pay for her daughter’s hospital bills and pay her father’s debts. One night, thugs cornered her, and it's Alessandro who saves her. And he’s not interested in forgiveness. He wants her to be his mistress. And pawn. As past secrets resurface and enemies circle like wolves, Fabiola and Alessandro find themselves trapped in a game of lust, lies, and betrayal. Fabiola wants out of the business once she’s done, because of her daughter, but Alessandro calls her out. “Amore mio,” he smirked, his eyes gave me a thorough stare down. It was slow and deliberate. My heart was a high-speed train. I could feel my face burning, turning a shade that betrayed everything I was trying to hide. “When I said you were mine, I meant it.” He said. He stood and closed the gap between us. I tried to leave. “Stop!” and I froze. “Look at me.” It was an order, and I did exactly that. He gave me his evil half smile. “Fa,” he paused. “Bi,” another pause. “Ola,” he rasped. “You know you will always be mine,” he paused as if to let that sink in, with his laser icy blues staring right into mine. “Right?”

My fiancé, Dominic, heir to the Carvalho crime family, vanished for four days. I thought a rival family had put a bullet in his head. Then I saw his ex’s Instagram story. A shot of them in bed. The caption: He still knows every inch of me. His face was hidden, but his hand wasn't. And on it, the ring I gave him, resting on her skin. That night, Dominic came home. He brought me white roses, my favorite. I asked him why. Why he'd lie. Why he'd sleep with her. He brushed it off. Just a "misunderstanding." I was done. I threw the ring in his face. Burned the wedding dress. Told him we were over. He thought I was just throwing a fit. He didn't get it. Not until he realized I was walking away for good. Then he panicked. Begged me to come back.

Fresh from a business trip, my husband swept me into his arms and pulled me toward the bathroom for a passionate shared bath. As our lips met in a dizzying kiss, I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye: the toilet lid was down. Seven years ago, after reading an online article claiming that men urinating while standing could splash bacteria onto the seat, he insisted we always keep the lid up for hygiene's sake. In all our years of marriage, it had never been lowered until now. A chill ran through me. The bathroom was pristine, not a stray hair in sight. But then I noticed the shower's water temperature was set five degrees higher than the 98.6°F he always preferred. Men preferred cooler water, and women warmer. In an instant, I realized that Nick Doyle had betrayed me.