Valentine's Day Letter For Her Novels & Stories

“It's just me who can protect you!" Ethan yells as he slams Valentina against the wall, before she can move away, his body has covered the distance in an instant, and he brings his face extremely close to hers, his minty breath fanning her face. "With my power, no one in school can dare to hurt you, ever again.” Valentina couldn't believe her ears, her eyes blinked back fearfully, she had never dreamt that Ethan would one day try to "protect her" He is a hypocrite, silence hung briefly between them and a certain anger surged through her. “You mean the same power you used against me? Do you think you're any different from the rest of them?" She asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Ethan frowned and he gripped her shoulders tightly pressing her even harder into the wall, Valentina squeezed her eyes shut from fear. "I don't care what you say, Val." He whispers against her face, he grabs her jaw roughly and she winces slightly in surprise. "You won't be leaving here anytime soon." Valentina Chandler is a teenager suffering from depression and abuse from everyone around her, but despite that she struggles to get through every day, the more she tries to live a normal life, the more impossible it gets with the hope of one day having a "better life". Then there is Ethan Lords, a powerful school figure no one dared to cross and her mortal enemy who would stop at nothing to make her life more miserable. But what happens when he suddenly stops to bully her and he tells her he needs to protect her? What dangers lie ahead for Valentina? What does Ethan see that she doesn't? Who is he trying to protect her from?

On Valentine’s Day, I discovered that my brother’s fiancee, Erika Gibson, was cheating on him. So, I tried to tell my brother, Nathan Clinton, about it. However, he yelled at me. He said that I was trying to ruin his relationship and told me to leave. Erika then asked her lover to deal with me, so he kidnapped me. He mocked me for being unable to speak and forced me to sell 200 roses at the night market. I asked Nathan for help, but he replied impatiently. [Moon, I can’t believe you’d lie about something like this… I don’t have time for your games.] I was accidentally hit by a truck while Nathan was having a wonderful time with Erika. Haha. I was finally free, but I wished I had a different brother.

Adeline had one choice: marry Grayson Archer, the ruthless billionaire, to save her dying mother and erase her father’s gambling debts. Five years as his contract wife meant enduring cold indifference, sharp words, and a life overshadowed by his manipulative family. When the contract ends, Adeline shocks everyone—especially Grayson—by walking away. But Grayson isn’t ready to let her go. Determined to win her back, he devises a new plan, only to discover feelings he never expected. Just as their fragile bond begins to heal, a devastating secret from his past and a betrayal Adeline can't forgive threaten to destroy everything. Can love survive the ultimate test, or will Grayson lose the only woman he’s ever truly wanted? A story of heartbreak, redemption, and second chances, Divorcing the Billionaire on Valentine's Day, will leave you breathless.

On the night before Valentine's Day, my boyfriend Adrian said he wanted to make up for the proposal I never got. Five months pregnant, I happily went to the cabin he'd booked. When I arrived, I realized it was the new mountain campground owned by Celeste, the woman he'd never gotten over. At dinner, Celeste brought over a pot of mushroom soup and said it was especially nourishing for pregnant women. After I finished it, I vomited until I was dehydrated and ended up in the hospital. My face broke out in a rash. The beauty product launch scheduled for the next day had to be canceled, and the breach-of-contract penalty nearly crushed me. My manager, Jenna, posted a public statement on my behalf warning everyone. Adrian was furious. He said it hadn't been easy for Celeste as a divorced woman, and I shouldn't destroy her life. On Valentine's Day, he shoved me into the car, saying he was taking me to apologize to her. Instead, he stopped halfway up the mountain. He snatched my purse and phone, then left me alone on the dirt road leading downhill. "Walk the rest of the way. Consider it your apology to Celeste." A torrential downpour swept through the mountains. I fell three times on the muddy road, one hand cradling my belly. By the time I got up, my pant legs were soaked with blood. I thought I wouldn't survive until morning. Luckily, a park ranger found me. In the ambulance, Adrian's voice message played over the speaker. "Ignore her. She's faking. Her belly's already showing, so she can't keep threatening to dump me. Let Valentine's Day teach her a lesson. Maybe then she'll stop thinking she can walk all over Celeste." I turned off the recording. At the hospital, I signed the surgical consent form.

On Valentine's Day, my husband Ethan Scott’s assistant, Taylor Winston, gifted me 360 used condoms. She leaned close to my ear and whispered that this was Ethan’s favorite brand. Then, in front of everyone, she teased, "Valentine's Day calls for some explosive fun. I hope you don't mind, Claire." Disgust churned in my stomach, and I couldn’t hold back—I vomited on the spot. Embarrassed that I had humiliated him, Ethan snapped, "It was just a joke. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?" Three months pregnant, I was so enraged that a patch of red stained my pants. I begged him to take me to the hospital. But Taylor chimed in, "It's just her physiological reaction." Furious, Ethan heartlessly locked me in the car. He spent three carefree days with Taylor before finally remembering me. But when he saw me again, the usually composed CEO of Scott Enterprise completely lost his mind.

After I got pregnant, my husband started driving for Uber after work to help with household expenses. He wouldn't return home until the early hours of the morning. Then, on Valentine's Day, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my belly. I called an ambulance to take me to the hospital. When I arrived, I saw my husband entangled with another woman. Both of them were being wheeled into the emergency room. "Tsk, these two really have no shame, going at it right out in public," someone muttered. "They probably wrecked the car in the process, don't you think?" another chimed in. "What's even worse," a voice added with a hint of horror, "is that guy has a wife!" The bystanders gasped in unison. "His wife must be devastated." Whether his wife is devastated or not, I don't know. But one thing is certain—he'll be going straight to hell for this!

It was the third Valentine's Day after our marriage. Samuel was complaining to his friends about me, "Noelle's very uptight. She's so boring in bed. It's like doing it with a blow-up doll. I'd never have married her if she wasn't rich." I went to a club and got a model with an eight-pack to please me. Enraged, Samuel demanded an explanation. I eyed him and snickered. "Look at you. You're so flabby. I'd never have married you if you weren't at least good-looking."

On the eve of giving birth, my world turned into a nightmare. My husband’s sworn enemy broke into our home, seeking revenge. I was brutally cut open and my baby was ripped from me. Yet, I made the chilling choice not to call my husband for help. In my previous life, desperate and terrified, I begged him to return home. He abandoned a Valentine’s dinner with a scholarship student to rush back. That night, the student was preyed upon in a bar, leading to her tragic suicide. My husband’s wrath was unrelenting. Blaming me for her death, he locked me in a kennel, leaving me to be savaged to death. “This is the pain Wynne endured because of you. Now it’s your turn to suffer!” Given a second chance, I resolved to make a different choice. This time, I let him stay for his romantic Valentine’s evening with her. But when I returned home, he had spiraled into madness.

On Valentine's Day, I wait for my wife, Nancy Curtis, to get off work after preparing a candlelit dinner for our date. But she only texts me at 9:00 pm. "I have something going on at the company. There's no need to wait for me." Soon, I see a Facebook post made by Nancy's secretary, Derek Jones. "I'm on a business trip with my female boss on Valentine's Day. The thing is, the hotel's fully booked. Oops, this is getting awkward…" The photo in the post features a feminine silhouette standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window while draped in a bathrobe. Everyone in the comment section compliments Derek for being lucky, seeing as the boss of his has a smoking hot figure and is extremely charming. Derek merely replies with a cheeky emoji. So, it turns out that Nancy's "business" is having fun with her own secretary, eh? I take a screenshot of Derek's post before uploading it to my own social media feed. I even include a smiley as a caption. Immediately, Nancy calls me on the phone and starts berating me. "Derek was just cracking a joke! Why are you being so petty, huh? And here I thought you were mature!" I end the call immediately before texting her, "Let's get a divorce."

I had become the Luna of the pack. Mom called it a blessing. She said I'd married up, and that I should bring my sister, Ruby, into the same circles. Ruby was already scheming for a noble match. That was the whole point of her come-of-age celebration. I hated all the schemes. And the lilies on the table made it hard to breathe. My throat began to swell. My chest tightened. I realized I was allergic But I couldn't rest. "Bring Ruby around. Say hello to the wealthy families. You're the Luna. They'll treat you with respect," Mom said. I stayed. The wine she handed me made things worse. And my pampered sister, out of jealousy, forced an handful of allergy medicine down my throat. It was the kind forbidden for pregnant women. And I was six months carrying a wolf pup. In tearing, gut-wrenching pain, my pup left me. Mom cried again and again, begging for forgiveness. I pulled my hand away. Whatever love I had for her was gone.