Triple Duty Bodyguards Novels & Stories

Bella existed as little more than a servant, her worth reduced to scrubbing toilets and enduring the whims of Jace, the Alpha's privileged heir. But when fate intervenes, revealing Bella as Jace's destined mate, the game changes drastically. Jace, accustomed to taking what he wants without consequence, is blindsided by the realization that Bella is meant for him. As the mate bond ignites a fiery passion within him, he's forced to confront his own shortcomings and the depth of his feelings for the girl he once saw as disposable. Yet, winning Bella's trust proves to be an uphill battle, the scars of her past interactions with Jace running deep. Even as he pledges his love and devotion, doubts linger—can she ever truly forgive him? And even if she does, can they carve out a future together in a world where power and pack politics threaten to tear them apart?

All it took Fate was one night to finally answer Sofia's long time prayers - to be free from her abusive husband's clutches however it landed her in the devil's world, Don Salvatore's car trunk. Was this a blessing in disguise or a curse? Little did she know that she would finally find love in the devil's arms. A single father, a mafia leader and the owner of one of the biggest cartels in Sicily Italy who had sworn off love finally fell in love with Sofia after a few weeks However this love didn't come on a plate of gold, it came with various trials, betrayals, suspense and drama. Will Sofia and Salvatore finally triumph over these obstacles that threatened the foundation of their solid love or will their love shatter to pieces? Find out in this blockbuster thrilling romance novel

On our son's fifth birthday, I found the texts on Stanley's phone—from his best friend's widow: [Stanley, the kid misses his dad again. When are you coming over?] [Stanley, Archie liked a set of matching family outfits. I already ordered them. Let's wear them together this weekend.] [Stanley, Archie starts school tomorrow. I put your name down under "father." Hope that's okay?] And Stanley? He was all in: [Loretta's asleep. I'll head over now.] [My size is 3XL. Don't get the wrong one.] [It's fine. You two have always been my responsibility.] I stood there, frozen. Then I called him back in from the living room, where he'd been helping Luca open gifts. He didn't deny it. Just hugged me and started rambling. "Hallie's Howard's widow. I promised I'd look out for her and Archie. I know I messed up. It won't happen again." We'd been together ten years. Luca had just turned five. Ending a marriage over a few texts felt dramatic. So I let it slide. Believed him. We even went out to celebrate Luca's birthday. Then his phone lit up on the table: [Stanley, the kid's crying for his dad before bed. I can't calm him down.] Stanley shoved his chair back and walked out—no hesitation. I looked at Luca. He was startled at the noise. And just like that, divorce didn't feel so dramatic anymore.

When I was seven years old, a handsome man Mom brought home gave me a box of mangoes. That day, Dad watched me happily eating the mangoes as he signed his name on the divorce agreement. Then, he jumped to his death. From that day on, mangoes became a lifelong nightmare for me. So, on our wedding day, I told my wife, Irene Johnson, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." She held me without saying a word. From that moment on, mangoes became forbidden for her as well. … On the fifth Christmas Eve after we got married, Irene's childhood sweetheart, Steven Carter, placed a mango on her desk. That same day, she announced that she was cutting ties with him and fired him from the company. That day, I felt that she was the woman destined for me. ... Six months later, I return from overseas after closing a billion-dollar deal. At the celebration dinner, Irene hands me a drink. After I drink half of it, Steven, the man who was kicked out of the company, stands behind me and grins. "Is the mango juice good?" he asks. I look at Irene in disbelief, but she is holding back a laugh. "Don't be mad. Steve insisted I play a joke on you. I didn't give you a mango, just a bottle of its juice. "But I think Steve is right. There's something wrong with you for not eating mangoes. Look at how much you enjoyed it just now!" she says. I keep a cold expression, raise my hand, and splash the remaining mango juice onto her face. Then, I turn and walk away. Some things are never a joke. Mangoes aren't, and neither is my decision to divorce.

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

Hard-hitting prosecutor Sarah Walsh celebrates her biggest victory by letting loose in Vegas for ONE NIGHT... and wakes up with a wedding ring and a MAFIA HUSBAND?! 💍😱 When she discovers her "accidental" husband is Diego Castillo - brother of the crime boss she just sent to prison - Sarah knows she's in DEADLY danger. But what starts as a nightmare turns into a passionate adventure as bullets fly and secrets emerge! From drunken "I do's" to dodging assassins, this steamy enemies-to-lovers tale proves what happens in Vegas doesn't always stay there... especially when the Russian wedding night was all part of a SHOCKING conspiracy that goes all the way to the top! Will Sarah choose justice or the dangerously seductive man who might be her only chance at survival? The truth will leave you BREATHLESS! 💋🔫💰

On the party of our seventh year anniversary, Luca Romano wheels me into the venue. Both of us are dressed to the nines. Our daughter, Sofia Romano, suddenly leans into Luca's ear and says in fluent Bellavian, "Dad, Ms. Celia is eight months pregnant now. Once she gives birth to my little brother, will they be living with us?" Celia Amato is Sofia's private tutor. At the moment, she's staring at us jealously from a short distance away. Luca lowers his head and tucks in the blanket on my lap lovingly. Then, he replies in Bellavian, "I've made a vow to your mother that I will never betray her. So, once Celia is done with her labor, I'll send them to another country overseas. If you miss your little brother, we can visit them together." Once he's done speaking, he tries to kiss me. I lower my head quietly to avoid the kiss. Luca doesn't know that I understand Bellavian because I've grown up in Sisse, Bellavia since I was a kid. He also has no idea that my legs were fully healed a week ago, and that I've uncovered the evidence of his affair with Celia in the estate's wine cellar. Of course, he doesn't know that I've promised my grandma that I'll return to Bellavia and take over the family business. Once all the paperwork is done, I'll set off on a lone journey, and I will never return.

That night, I returned from a business trip to surprise my wife. However, when I sneak home, I realize my boss is there, too. His smile deepens when he sees me; he tells me he's there to welcome me home because he knew I would return that night. My wife nods and agrees with him. For some reason, I can't help finding the looks on their faces odd.

When Ethan Reed shoves divorce papers across the anniversary dinner Mia Thompson spent hours preparing, he believes he's trading up — swapping his quiet schoolteacher wife for her glamorous best friend and the "power couple" image his investors demand. What he doesn't know: the woman he's throwing away funded his entire empire with her dead parents' life insurance money — and still owns 45% of the company he just sold for $25 million. For six years, Mia paid his loans, wrote his pitch decks, and worked two jobs while he coded his dreams into reality. She loved him enough to carry his child alone for eight weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to tell him. That moment came in a doorway — divorce papers in one hand, her best friend smirking behind him in a red dress. She signed. She walked out. She collapsed in a hospital parking lot and lost the baby no one knew existed. Some men burn down the wrong house. Some women have to lose everything before they realize they were holding the match the whole time. And some betrayals come with a price tag — exactly $25 million, plus interest.

Because of a last-minute business trip, my husband missed the Thanksgiving family dinner. I spent the entire day helping out at my in-laws' place in the countryside with our five-year-old son, only to receive a complaint from the downstairs neighbor just before dinner. "Ari, could you please close your kitchen window when you're cooking? I can smell the hot sauce from all the way here. My husband has a lung condition—he can't handle it." My neighbor's words shocked me, and I immediately called my husband, who was allergic to chili peppers. "Honey, did someone break into the house? The neighbor said there was smoke coming from the kitchen." His breathing hitched for a second before he let out a casual laugh. "No break-in. My flight got canceled, so I was home alone cooking. When are you two coming back? I really miss you." I smiled and told him we'd stay a couple more days, but in the middle of the night, I packed up our son and drove straight home.