Wangsheng Funeral Parlor

My mother fell critically ill and was rushed to the hospital. Desperate, I knelt before my fiancé—the department's chief surgeon—and begged him to take charge of her operation. But outside the ICU, he was carefully tending to a scraped knee. Lucy Wendell's scraped knee, to be exact. Just as I was drowning in hopelessness, Cameron Mitchell—the hospital director and my childhood friend—pushed open the operating room doors and handed me a marriage proposal. "Marry me, and I'll personally perform your mother's surgery." With trembling hands, I signed my name, clinging to the last shred of hope that she could be saved. But she never made it through that stormy night. Cameron handled all the funeral arrangements himself, and our wedding proceeded as scheduled. Seven years later, in the hushed silence of the hospital archives, I overheard Cameron speaking with the deputy director. "Cameron, why did you transfer your mother-in-law's organ to Lucy's mother during that surgery? Weren't you afraid of getting caught?" "I owed Lucy," he replied. "If I hadn't hesitated back then, Lucy never would've chosen medical aid work in Africa… and her mother wouldn't have fallen ill from the grief."

The night my husband, William Costello, was assassinated by his enemies was supposed to be a celebration—our wedding anniversary. I was dressed in his favorite red dress, waiting for him, when the phone rang. "Mr. Costello was shot at the harbor. The bullet went through the back of his head. He died on the spot." I collapsed to the floor. I clung to his belongings, mourning for a week straight. We even lost our unborn child during this time. Everyone said William and I were true love. Even the Don himself came to the funeral, resting a heavy hand on my shoulder with a sigh. He said, "All of Blackhaven knows you were the only woman he ever loved." Grief nearly destroyed me. I stood at the river's edge, ready to follow William into the afterlife. However, I overheard my sister-in-law, Emily Hawkins, leaning into my brother-in-law, Jones Costello, her voice dripping with a twisted affection. She purred, "William, I love you so much. Between Nina and me, who do you think is sexier?" "Of course it's you, babe!" came the husky reply. I stood frozen, my eyes wide and my body trembling. Why was Emily calling my brother-in-law by my husband's name?

THIS BOOK CONTAINS RAW, STEAMY, AND EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. IF YOU'RE NOT 18+, PLEASE ABSTAIN. When Shemika accidentally kills her brother‑in‑law during a four‑hour, drug‑laced BDSM session on the night of her sister’s funeral, she flees and was hit by a car. The driver turns out to be the smooth‑talking ex‑convict everybody calls Bishop, manager of the ultra‑exclusive nightclub known as Wet Nights. He carries her to the club’s secret hospital beneath the dance floor for her to recover.  To dodge arrest, Shemika begs for a job at the club. After a shocking demonstration of wax play, orgasm denial, and bondage, she signs a blood‑ink contract and becomes property of Wet Nights. She was taken to the performers’ 14‑storey dorm, known as the Crimson House where all the performers (employees) at Wet Nights stays. The house is managed by the predatory house‑manager known as Sinner—he fucks every newbie in the house as part of their onboarding session. On her first night, Shemika is bullied to parade naked through all fourteen floors, but the funny bisexual icon Jax steps in and helps her. Soon Shemika teams up with two dancers namely; Synn, the ice‑cold top performer, and Lexi, whose real purpose is finding her sister who vanished while working at the club. But some doors in Wet Nights stay locked for a reason…

My mother-in-law lives alone. One day, her house suddenly catches on fire. It's a life-threatening situation. I call my firefighter husband several times before he answers impatiently. "I don't care why you're calling—can't it wait? I'm fixing Sophie's pipes!" I tell him about his mother being trapped in a fire, but he merely sneers. "How dare you curse my mother just to make me go home? You're insane!" He hangs up without another word. I'm left helpless. All I can do is wait for his colleagues to arrive, but they only come half an hour later. Their expressions shift to horror when they see the blazing fire. "Didn't Captain Scott say his wife was lying?" My mother-in-law dies due to the delay. My husband even misses the funeral because of his first love. I give up on him and ask for a divorce. However, he rips the divorce agreement to shreds and shatters the urn that contains his mother's ashes. "Drop the act—I would definitely go through with the divorce if not for my mother!" I laugh. He doesn't even know his mother is already dead.

The wedding bells rang then came the gunshot. Amelia Stone thought she was marrying the love of her life, Miguel Favino. But before the vows were over, Miguel was shot in front of her, his last word was her name. Now she’s a widow, covered in blood and surrounded by lies. Everyone says it was an accident, but Amelia knows someone wanted her to suffer. Days later, Miguel’s younger brother, Alejandro the cold, tattooed heir shows up at the funeral with a contract. “It’s Favino family law,” he says. “When the eldest son dies, his wife belongs to the next heir. That means you’re mine now.” Amelia stares at him in disbelief. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’ll ever marry you.” Alejandro’s voice turns low and dangerous. “You don’t have a choice, querida. You’re part of this family now whether you like it or not.” But Amelia won’t be controlled. Someone killed her husband, and she’ll find out who. Even if it means trusting the one man she swore to hate. Will she follow her heart with the mysterious man at her side, or finish what she started and make every drop of blood on her wedding dress mean something? This time, the betrayed bride won’t forgive. She will fight. She will burn. And she will make them all pay.

LUNA He came for my sister. The scarred, brutal Bratva king from Russia, the one whispered about in mafia circles like a ghost story, traveled halfway across the world to claim her. But my sister was too fragile for a man like him. I tried to protect her. I didn’t know I was the one he truly wanted. From the moment Misha Petrov saw me, I became his obsession. He struck a deal with my father and took me instead. Forced me into a sham marriage, dragged me into his icy empire, and made me pretend in public that I belonged to him. But behind closed doors, the lines began to blur. I hated him. I needed him. And then, I ran. MISHA She thinks she escaped. She thinks I’ll let her go. But Luna Rojas was never going to leave me, not truly. I burned everything that stood between us, including the man she thought she loved. The one I had to kill. And when she fled to attend his funeral, I followed with five hundred men and a vow carved in blood. I cleared the graveyard. Claimed her—body, soul, and screams, right there, over his bones. Because if I can’t have her love… I’ll take her fear. And I haven’t even started yet.

Tras la quiebra de mi familia, mi prometido, Javier Martínez, rompió el compromiso sin titubear y eligió a Lucía Giménez. Fue Pablo Romero quien saldó mis deudas, se hizo cargo del funeral de mi padre y me sacó del incendio en el que se había convertido mi vida. Durante los siguientes tres años, se quedó a mi lado. Justo cuando creí haber encontrado la redención, en la víspera de nuestra boda lo escuché conversar con su mejor amigo: —¿De verdad piensas casarte con Daniela? ¿No te da miedo que algún día se entere de que la muerte de su padre y la ruina de su familia fueron cosa tuya? —Lucía ya se casó con Javier. Me caso con Daniela y ya. Y si algún día lo descubre, ¿ qué? Yo pagué sus deudas, yo enterré a su padre. Con eso ya cumplí con ella. Ahí entendí que Pablo también me había mentido. De principio a fin, la única que se lo había creído todo había sido yo.

“The sight of you irks me!” He growled in her face, hatred, and desire mixing up to become one single but tormenting emotion. Timidly, she stuttered, “I’ll stay out of sight, My King–” “Did I ask you to do that?” He seethed, closing the small gap between their bodies. “What do you want then!” She retorted, equally frustrated. “I want you dammit!” He roared, grabbing her arms. “I want to hate you and I do hate you but fuck do I want to devour you till you can’t take any more of me.” **************** Haylee Smith, a nineteen-year-old who had never known peace since she was born was given to the cruel Alpha King by her destined mate after he chose, mated, and impregnated her dubious twin sister. Haylee was still bleeding from the wound of betrayal but she was given a second chance mate in the Alpha King. Alpha King Xalen, a ruthless twenty-seven-year-old, was still mourning his late wife and mother of his kids when he found out that the moon goddess had given him another mate– a slave– to be discovered at his beloved wife’s funeral. What a sick game of fate! A new mate at his ex-mate’s funeral! Hell did break loose but so did uncontrollable passion. Find out more in the pages of this book.

The day I go into labor, my husband's student, Yasmin Holden, storms off in a rage. She climbs the mountains alone while heavily pregnant. For the next three days and nights, my husband disappears to look for her. Meanwhile, I suffer a difficult labor and hemorrhage badly. I'm rushed into the ICU. When I finally wake up, the doctor hands my husband a critical condition notice. He hands me divorce papers. "Yasmin is my most promising student. I can't let her do anything foolish. You're about to be a mother, so you need to be strong!" In my last life, I refused to sign. As soon as I left the maternity ward, I reported their affair to the university. Yasmin lost her graduate school recommendation and was torn apart by public scandal. In front of me, she slit her own throat. By the time my husband arrived, Yasmin was already gone—along with the baby. He quietly handled her funeral and said nothing. Then, he returned to me as if nothing had happened. I thought that meant I was finally going to have a happy ending. But one day, he drove our car off a cliff with me and our daughter inside. That day was Yasmin's death anniversary. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day I give birth.

Even after being married for three years, my husband treats me like a stranger. When I throw up blood from pregnancy complications, he's in the prayer room chanting for his foster sister, Yvie Springton. He accuses me of being dramatic. If Yvie so much as gets a headache, he drops everything and flies overseas to be by her side. When his parents are in critical condition after a car crash, I beg him to go see them one last time. But what does he do? He claims I'm cursing Yvie. When I go into early labor and cling to life after giving birth to our son, he posts a photo of his international boarding pass on social media. At his parents' funeral, he returns to the country with Yvie and demands I leave the marriage with nothing. The day our divorce finalizes, he holds a wedding ceremony with her. I bury his parents alone. Then, at an exclusive auction, dead set on winning the famous painting for Yvie, he offered a staggering price. Even his accounts are frozen. That's when he finally realizes he's been disowned by the Springton family. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's furious as he demands answers. I simply gesture for my lawyer to step forward. He says, "Mr. Springton, take a look at this will."