They Both Die At The End

Rule one of surviving a werewolf rejection: don't look back. Rule two: definitely don't move into an apartment directly below his human ex-girlfriend. Rule three: under no circumstances allow him to follow you to the human world. I have broken all three rules in under a month. My name is Zoya Fennel, and five weeks ago, Casen Wolfe — Alpha of the Silveroak Pack, certified heartbreaker, and the most beautiful man the Moon Goddess ever put together on a Thursday — stood at the end of the aisle during our bonding ceremony and said, in front of everyone I have ever loved: "She is not my true mate. I reject the bond." And just like that, the life I'd been planning since I was sixteen years old dissolved in front of three hundred witnesses and one very startled officiant. So I did what any self-respecting, moderately devastated she-wolf would do. I walked out. I moved to the city. I got a frankly excellent apartment with a fire escape view and a coffee shop downstairs. I started living my life. What I did not plan for was discovering — three weeks later, via a very confused text from my sister — that Casen has left the pack, abandoned his Alpha title, moved to the same city, and is currently standing outside my building in the rain. He says he made a mistake. He says the woman he thought was his true mate turned out to be nothing of the sort. He says he's been going out of his mind since the rejection ceremony because the bond he severed — the one he publicly destroyed — is the only one he's ever felt. I say: that sounds like a you problem. Except then he gets a job at the coffee shop downstairs.

My younger brother had opened a high-end beauty salon, so I took my mother there for a facial. We picked the most expensive package, but the moment the mask was applied, Mom's face began to burn. When we peeled it off, her entire face was covered in rashes. I called for the director, but she looked impatient. "Oh, that's just a normal detox reaction." I was stunned. "Her face is practically ruined! What products are you even using?" "Ruined?" She flared up like someone had stepped on her tail. "Your mom's skin is just too bad to handle premium nutrients! Once our products are opened, they're non-refundable—got it?" I pointed to the brochure. "It says right here—'gentle and non-irritating, full refund if any adverse reaction occurs.' Is this how Stellan Fallow taught you to run a business?" She crossed her arms and lifted her chin high. "I am the boss! You and your mother look broke as hell—clearly here to mooch a free treatment. Now that it didn't work, you're trying to scam us for money? "Let me tell you something—this set costs 38 thousand, and with my emotional damages and lost wages, that's a total of 100 thousand. If you don't pay up today, I'll have the police take you both in!" A hundred thousand for a product that ruined someone's face? It was no wonder Stellan suddenly wanted to open a salon—it turned out he and his girlfriend were running a scam together! I was about to call Stellan, but before I could, she hit the video dial first. "Bubby, get over here—two broke idiots tried to freeload a treatment and now they're trying to shake us down for money!"

Love is a painful thing. It causes others to act ridiculous, to take things that they shouldn't, and to trust unconditionally. But what if the love you thought you had truly wasn't what you thought it was and the whole time you were being tricked? Do you stick around or do you break free of that love and move on with your life? And what do you do if you meet your first love again and begin to realize that everything you thought was wrong with your relationship was all a mistunderstanding? What if your first love wants to continue with your love story, but you're too afraid to put yourself in the position to be hurt again? Do you take that step and let yourself drown in the sweetness that you missed so much or do you keep your heart hidden? That is the very choice that Gabrielle has to make when her first love comes crashing back into her life at her high school reunion after a nasty breakup. Of course, she doesn't want to believe that maybe, just maybe, she was wrong and made the wrong choice, but that first love won't allow her to leave that easily. Instead, he chases her relentlessly until she is unable to resist anymore. However, their love isn't simple and there are many obstacles standing in their way. Will they be able to overcome them together or will their resurrected love fall apart at the seams? Read The Heirs Second Chance At Forever to find out!

I drive a Rolls-Royce to the venue where my high school reunion is held. When my former classmates ask me how much the Rolls-Royce costs, I tell them that it belongs to the company. They begin telling everyone behind my back that I work as a company driver, and that I'm not living a good life at the moment. Then again, the car does belong to the company. It's just that the company is mine.

Celine has been hiding for years now–escaping from the marriage that her father wanted. Marrying someone she doesn't know for her is like killing herself in front of the church. She's a princess of a known country, and now she's living like a normal person. From branded clothes to cheap ones. From mansion to a small apartment. And now, she's working in a restaurant that her best friend owned. She's living now in the Philippines and still hiding her identity to everyone because she's afraid that someone might know her real identity, that's why she always puts on a wig and acts like a nerd. Everything's going smooth for her, then a man named Venz came. She never looks at the eyes of every man, but Venz was the exception. When she looked into his eyes, there's something that she couldn't explain. She thought that staring at that man's eyes would only happen once, but fate was playful when Venz asked her to be his fake significant other. Playing the song entitled "The way you look at me" —Christian Bautista

Strength is everything in our world. I was born without it. My name is Maeve Nightwhisper—the royal family’s shame. I can’t shift. I don’t heal like a true Alpha. I was never meant to rule. That future belonged to my twin brother, Reeve. Until he was poisoned the night before enrolling at Lycan Spirit Academy. If the academy discovers the heir is dead, our uncle Garson claims the throne by dawn. So I bury my brother and become him. I cut my hair, bind my chest, suppress my scent, and enter the all-male academy under Reeve’s name. One injury that heals too slowly, one slip in the communal showers, one crack in my control, and I’m exposed. The academy is a battlefield disguised as a school. Ranking matches are merciless. Alphas dominate or get crushed. I can’t overpower them, so I awaken the Forbidden Arts—an outlawed technique once practiced only by women of my bloodline. They call me weak. Until I start winning. Now Alaric, the Academy’s Sword Bearer, watches me like prey. Dorian, the potions prodigy, looks at me like a secret he’s desperate to uncover. Then the Mate Bond snaps. If they discover I’m Maeve... The throne won’t be the only thing I lose.

“Fuck it!” He thought, arching closer to the guy, throwing his arms around his neck, “I'm getting engaged tomorrow and will be closeted for the rest of my life, living under pretense. Why don't I just experience sex with a hot dude for one night? Just one night… just one night…” *** Lincoln Smith had no regret that night he made the impulsive decision to have sex with the hot, mesmerizing man across the bar. He was sure it was the best night of his life… one he would never get to experience again. But then on the day of his engagement party, he was to receive a shocking blow. The man he had shared an intimate, passionate night with, the man he was sure he had a connection with, was his fiance’s big brother! Right there and then, he knew he was universally and colossally fucked! WARNING: This Book Contains Some Explicit Scenes Between Characters That May Not Be Suitable To Some Readers. Viewers Discretion Is Advised.

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

It happened overnight. A job label suddenly appeared on everyone's forehead. My wife was [Cleaner], while her first love, the man she had always pined for, was [Unemployed]. She hugged my leg and begged me pitifully, "Honey, your label is [Emperor]! That's a useless label in this modern era. Please give it to him so that he can revive his career by using the fate of the chosen one." Before I could answer her, her first love and her knocked me unconscious and pointed an ancient bronze mirror at my forehead while chanting a spell. The golden label of [Emperor] left my forehead. It was an excruciating pain that felt like my soul was being torn apart, and I almost passed out. The label ended up being branded on the forehead of her first love. They celebrated wildly when it appeared on his head. As I opened my eyes slowly, I was filled with pity for them. They had no idea that the full label was [The Last Emperor].

Angela Bailey spent six years believing her marriage was built on love, only to discover her devoted husband was nothing more than a polished illusion. When she filed for divorce and asked her daughter to leave with her, the little girl clung to another woman’s hand and called her “Mom.” Donald Turner, cold and entitled, told her, “As long as you apologize to Nina, you can still live your high-society life.” Angela scoffed. “You might not even stay in high society yourself.” She walked out of the Turner household with nothing, determined to rebuild her life from the ground up. With her own talent and grit, she joined a new company and went head-to-head with her ex. Just when Donald realized his mistake and wanted her back, another man stepped into Angela’s life—someone who protected her openly, supported her quietly, and cherished her without hesitation. Donald regretted everything and wanted her back. He appeared with their daughter, eyes red as he pleaded, “I’ll give you the entire Turner family. Please love me and our daughter again.” The man beside Angela laughed. “The Turner family? That means nothing. Angela doesn’t need it. And as for a daughter…” He looked at Angela, and together they said, “We already have one.”