True Love Never Dies

After failing to pay back a dangerous politician and business tycoon the money he owes him, a father is forced to sell off his own daughter to him to repay the debt. His young daughter Acania has to suffer the consequences of this unhealthy union to after he is long dead. A mysterious car crash took the lives of all the members of the family.

She tasted like heaven. "Touch me please," she moaned into my ears as I kissed her earlobe. "Patient my sweet," I said to her. "Only good things comes to those who wait." **** Samara. She was not his. Though he had a mate, he still desperately hungered for her. What was in her that drew him? What was it that called him to her? And though he was a man who commanded people and power in abundance, Samara was an existence that he would never understand. **** Michael. He was not hers and he could never be. She was a cursed werewolf, bearing a four century old curse. Why on earth did he want her? He was the supreme Alpha and he had a very beautiful mate. Who was she that he hankered for her? Who was she that he sought her time and time again for his bed? And who was she to be able to resist the charm and elegance that was his?

My husband has azoospermia. After trying all the options available, I finally conceived. However, my husband is worried my child will hurt his first love's feelings—she had a miscarriage. He tricks me into going for a prenatal checkup. In truth, he conspires with a doctor to induce labor when I'm only five months along. He says, "You must be the one with the problem. Why else is it so hard for us to have children? The baby won't be healthy even if it's born! We can have more children when you're healthier. Julie has just had a miscarriage; I don't want to aggravate her." He doesn't know he has azoospermia. I only managed to conceive this child after trying out IVF countless times and taking countless folk remedies. He will never have a child of his own in this lifetime, and I discover his true colors. I ask for a divorce, and that's when he loses his mind.

He stole my name. Then he tried to steal my life. But he’ll never steal my heart will he?” When August Hale, a quiet literature student with a past he tries to forget, transfers to a prestigious university under a scholarship, all he wants is to stay invisible, graduate, and move on. But his plan falls apart the moment he discovers another student on campus using his exact full name. Same name. Same birthday. Same hometown. But this August Hale is wealthy, charming, and cruel and he already knows too much. At first, August thinks it’s a prank. A coincidence. Until he starts losing things His place in classes His reputation His identity The fake August Hale, whose real name is Sebastian Wolfe, is playing a dangerous game. And when he sets his sights on the real August, obsession begins to blur the line between identity theft and romantic fixation. August wants answers. Sebastian wants August. But as August begins to dig into Sebastian’s past, he unearths something much darker than he expected a twisted reason why Sebastian chose him and why he can’t let him go.

Stanley Hamilton and I were basically Southport's favorite hate-watch couple. For Elodie—my oh-so-perfect adopted sister—he wrecked my company and had my parents thrown in prison. I, in turn, drove Elodie to her death, making him watch as she jumped off a rooftop. Our forced marriage? Just a slow ride from mutual disgust straight into mutual destruction. Then came the car explosion. Stanley, who'd hated me forever, still used his last breath to shove me out of the blast. "Vivienne Weston, one lifetime tangled with you is enough. If there's a next one, let's never meet." He touched the tattoo of Elodie's name on his neck, smiling faintly as the flames took him. After he died, I wandered through life half-dead myself until illness finished the job. When I woke up in the past, staring at two betrothal contracts, I didn't hesitate—I picked the guy everyone swore was insane. Stanley and my dad? I handed them right back to Elodie. This time, I wanted no meetings, no memories, no strings. Ever again.

It was not until after I married Bennett that I found out he had a clingy little childhood friend who loved to play the victim. On the very first day of our marriage, at dinner, I simply asked Bennett to pass me a bite of food. She immediately exploded. "Holly, you're disgusting! Bennett already used those utensils, and you seriously asked him to serve you food? What, don't you have hands?" I froze, completely blindsided. Before I could even react, Bennett put down his spoon and went straight to her, wrapping her in his arms like she was the one who had been wronged. Then he turned to me and said I should just get my own food from now on. However, honestly, wasn't it normal for a husband to serve his wife a bite? What was so outrageous about that? I barely got a word out before Bennett shut me down in a low, firm voice. "That's final. If Rosie doesn't like it, then we're not doing it. End of discussion."

She was the good girl, the kind who went to church, held onto hope, and believed love was patient, kind, and safe. He was the golden boy, a charming athlete with a dangerous edge and a past full of secrets. When their worlds collided, it wasn’t gentle. It was wild. All-consuming. Addictive. From the very beginning, he swept her off her feet , with compliments, promises, and intense affection. She fell hard. He changed her, slowly pulling her away from her values, her friends, and herself. But behind the sweet messages and stolen kisses was something darker: cheating, manipulation, and obsession. When she made one mistake, one moment of weakness, he unraveled. Possessive. Cold. Punishing. Their love turned into a battleground of blame, silence, and control. She finally found the strength to walk away. Two months of no contact. Healing. Distance. She went overseas to find space from the chaos. But just as she began to breathe again, he messaged her. They reunited. Briefly. Just long enough for her to realize the truth: he hadn’t changed. But she had. This is the story of a girl who lost herself in someone else’s world, and slowly, powerfully, found her way back. It’s about love bombing, heartbreak, emotional survival, and becoming your own safe place. She meets other men, learns new lessons, and begins to understand that what she really wants isn’t chaos disguised as passion… It’s peace. Wholeness. Companionship built on truth. He was never her forever. But he was the lesson she needed to meet the love she deserved.

"I hate you!" Allison spat, her teeth grinding against each other loudly in anger. "You do?" Dante asked, grinning wolfishly. His gold eyes glinted in amusement. Darting his tongue, he licked his canines as he eyed her plump parted lips. "How about we find out how much?" And before she could blink, he smashed his lips against hers. **** When the Lycan King comes to visit Allison's pack, the last thing she expected was to find out he was her mate. Heck, the last thing she wanted was a mate. With the murder of her parents on her mind and running her pack as a Beta, Allison has no need and no taste for the Lycan King nor his terrible reputation as a womanizer. How long though can she resist his charms or the pull of the mate bond? And with her parents murderers lurking in the shadows, how far will she go for her revenge?

Who said a parallel universe does not exist! He swore never to fall in love again. He's ruthless and cold. Lucas Quinn, is rich beyond anyone's wildest imagination and no one has ever been able to get close to him. All he cares about in life is perfection, which he always is looking for in novels and what not. But then an unruly, perfectly imperfect lady, Tasha Rowan, bumps into him, ruining a first edition book signed by the best-selling classic author in town. And she is the exact version of his dead girlfriend!

After the plane crash, my body was never recovered. My soul drifted back to the home I hadn't stepped foot in for five years. They didn't know I was dead. They were still waiting for me to come home for Christmas. When my mom got the call from the airline, she froze for a long time, completely at a loss, before breaking down in tears. I followed them as they went to the memorial crash site. That was when I noticed something strange—I could see their levels of regret hovering above their heads. My brother's regret level read: 40%. My father's showed: 60%. Even my sister-in-law had 30% over her head. But my mother's regret level? It flashed a cold, unchanging 0%.