Warhammer Manhattan Beach Novels & Stories

Ivy Sinclaire was born powerful—Heiress to House of Valemont and Manhattan royalty. Power doesn’t stop betrayal from crawling into her life—all cloaked in the form of her husband and her closest friend/ legal counsel. On the night she receives her Woman of Year award in global business, she walks into her office and finds Harry between Vivienne’s legs on her Italian marble desk—the same one she had closed multi-million deals on. The same night, her car crashes in a fiery wreck, and she’s declared dead, but alas! Ivy isn’t dead. She is saved by the one man who’s always wanted her and her nemesis. Chase Sterling. An arrogant billionaire and philanthropist in a tailored suit. A man who’s watched Ivy from the shadows for years. Keeping his distance, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and be her hero. “They tried to kill you and they almost succeeded,” Chase scoffs, adjusting his cufflinks. “I shouldn’t have trusted them,” Ivy wipes the tears streaming down her cheeks violently. “So what now?” She looks him dead in the eye. “I’ll give you 30% of House of Valemont. In return, you help me destroy them.” Reborn as Victoria St. James, Ivy returns to New York—unrecognizable, vengeful, and dangerous. With Chase at her side, she sets the stage for a merciless takedown, but as their dark alliance deepens into something twisted and magnetic, the question remains: who’s really in control? Because Chase didn’t just save her… He remade her, and he has no intention of letting her go.

Torn between the billionaire who broke her and the mafia prince who’d kill to keep her. Three years ago, Victor Kane—cold, powerful billionaire—shattered Isabella "Bella" Moretti with one cruel sentence: “You’re too fragile for my world.” He walked away, leaving her heartbroken on the marble floors of his Manhattan penthouse. She rebuilt her life in Brooklyn’s shadows, vowing never to return to his glittering, controlling empire. But Victor doesn’t let go so easily. Now he’s back—wealthier, darker, more obsessive. Private jets, diamond collars, whispered commands in the dark: he wants her again. And this time, he’ll chain her to him forever. Then there’s Nico Moretti—her childhood best friend, the dangerously handsome heir to New York’s most feared crime family. The man who’s held her through every storm, buried her secrets, and never once demanded more. Until Victor reappears. Nico’s loyalty ignites into raw possession. His touches burn hotter. His eyes promise violence to anyone who tries to take her. He’s done waiting in the shadows. If she won’t choose him, no one else will have her. Two alphas. One rules boardrooms with ice and billions. The other rules streets with blood and loyalty. Both are dangerously obsessed. Both will destroy everything to claim her body and soul. In a deadly game of jealousy, betrayal, and scorching desire, Bella must decide: Surrender to the ex who once ruined her? Or fall into the arms of the best friend who’ll burn the world to own her? One woman. Two monsters. No safe escape.

My adoptive parents' long-lost daughter came back. She's a wellness influencer. She eats from crystal bowls she "cleansed." Sleeps with a white noise machine. She will only ride in a custom, climate-controlled car. That's not all. She filled our family's Manhattan law firm with Himalayan salt lamps and energy crystals. The espresso in the conference room? Replaced with gluten-free, organic dandelion root tea. "The energy here is so murky," she'd say. "We need to cleanse the world with love and light!" My guilt-ridden parents gave her everything she wanted. Even my fiancé told me, "Ava, you stole twenty years of her Upper East Side life. Can't you cut her some slack?" The day of the final hearing for our firm's biggest case, the entire court had to wait for her to finish her "emotional cleansing meditation." The judge was furious. I stood up. Delivered a flawless closing argument. I won our client $500 million and secured the future of the firm. But at the party, she had a drunken breakdown, fell into the pool, and drowned. My parents and my fiancé blamed me for everything. "You always have to win, don't you? It was a simple, open-and-shut case. You couldn't even let her have that?" They had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. They destroyed my law license and my reputation. They even had me injected with a fatal overdose of sedatives. I died full of hate. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the day she was crying on her Instagram Live, begging for the case. This time, I walked straight into our rival's law firm. This "sure-win" case? I'm going to make you lose everything.

3.5 Stories in one. She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith—the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room—Manhattan's most exclusive masked club—she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you."

He is the man her father wants erased. She is the only woman who can bring him to his knees. In neon-soaked New York City, power isn’t inherited—it’s stolen. Twenty-three-year-old Ava Moretti was born into one of Manhattan’s most feared real-estate dynasties, raised to preserve its empire—not question it. Invisible, controlled, untouchable… until she slips into an illegal underground auction hidden beneath a luxury skyscraper. That’s where she meets him. Damian Kade—ruthless tech billionaire, the “Silicon King,” and her family’s greatest enemy. A man who doesn’t lose, doesn’t beg, and doesn’t spare mercy. When a violent deal spirals into chaos, Damian drags her into the shadows and kisses her—hard, commanding, forbidden—just to keep her alive. He doesn’t know she’s a Moretti. She doesn’t know he’s the man her father has spent a decade trying to destroy. What begins as a secret client arrangement quickly turns into obsession. In public, they are enemies whose names should never be spoken in the same room. In private, they are ruin—ripped silk, bruised lips, and truths neither of them were ever meant to survive. “I should walk away from you,” Damian whispers against her skin. “But I don’t believe in should.” But love in their world is never safe. When an attack on Ava’s family is traced back to Kade Industries, she’s forced into an impossible choice: expose the man she loves… or protect him and risk watching her entire bloodline burn. He is the empire her father wants destroyed. She is the key to his downfall. In a city built on betrayal and blood, love is the most dangerous crime of all. How far will you go for the one person you were never meant to survive?

Dr. Elara Vance's life is defined by exhaustion, crushing student loans, and grueling 30-hour residency shifts. Her passion for medicine is her singular focus until the brutal, careless discovery of her boyfriend Daniel’s long-running affair shatters her foundation. Seeking oblivion, she allows her best friend to drag her into Manhattan's elite world, where she collides with Liam Sterling, the notoriously private and ruthlessly efficient tech CEO. ​Their intense, desperate one-night stand is a blur of emotional destruction, a mistake Elara vows to bury. But weeks later, fate delivers an impossible complication: she is pregnant with the tech mogul's child. ​Liam, a master of cold, transactional risk management, moves swiftly to contain the scandal. He ambushes Elara with the "White Coat Contract," an impersonal legal offer promising immediate, full payment of her crippling medical school debt and complete financial security. But his protection comes with a crushing price: Elara must resign or significantly scale back her demanding residency. This requirement threatens to extinguish the medical career she bled for, forcing her to choose between stability and her identity. ​Forced into this high-stakes arrangement, Elara enters Liam's sterile, controlled world, furious at the man who views her life’s work as a liability. Yet, their forced proximity blurs the sharp lines of the contract. She brings chaos and warmth to his ordered life, and he, in turn, sees the fierce dedication that transcends her financial profile. With her professional life precariously balanced, Elara must decide if Liam’s love is worth the risk of losing her identity, and he must decide if his obsession with control is worth losing the only person who has ever truly challenged the sterile efficiency of his world.

“If you don’t come back within thirty minutes, I’ll replace my groom, Jackson.” On the other end of the call, Jackson Langham only laughed. To him, Ava Celeste’s threat sounded ridiculous. After all, for the past seven years, Ava had always stayed. Always forgiven him. Always waited for him. Jackson was far too certain that she would never leave. But that day was different. Standing in the middle of a luxurious ballroom filled with conglomerate families, Manhattan media, and elite guests, Ava finally realized one bitter truth: she had never truly been Jackson’s priority. Not even on their wedding day. Even then, he still chose to leave with another woman. And for the first time after seven years of loving someone unconditionally, Ava stopped waiting. Just as everyone assumed the wedding would end as the biggest scandal in Langham family history, a man suddenly stepped forward and extended his hand toward Ava in front of the entire ballroom. Maverick Langham. Jackson’s uncle. The cold, rigid man who had always remained in the shadows of the Langham family. “I may not be able to give you love,” he said quietly, his deep voice steady amidst the chaos surrounding them, “but at least I can save your dignity today. So… will you marry me?” Without hesitation, Ava said yes. That impulsive decision changed everything. In a single night, Ava went from being Jackson’s future wife to becoming his aunt instead. Jackson was forced to watch the woman he had neglected for years slowly fall into another man’s arms. Jackson had every intention of winning Ava back. And he had no plans to let her go so easily. But could he really do it… now that Ava had finally discovered what true love actually meant?  

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

After the college entrance exams, my parents left me at home and took their adopted daughter on a trip to the beach. A typhoon hit, and the three of them never came back. When the news reached me, I did not cry or throw a tantrum. I had their deaths registered right away and pulled out the life insurance I had bought in advance. I received one hundred million in compensation. My fiance scolded me for caring only about money. What he did not know was that I had been reborn. In my past life, after I learned about their deaths, the huge debts they had left behind fell on me. I gave up the chance to go to college and started working to pay everything back. I fought to protect our ancestral home from debt collectors. My fiance stayed with me and cheered me on when I came home late at night from delivery runs. But he never gave me a single cent to help. At thirty-five, I finally cleared every debt. On my birthday, I bought myself a ten-dollar cake to celebrate. Just as I was about to blow out the candle, the door opened. My parents and their adopted daughter, who should have died in the typhoon, walked in dressed in designer clothes. They smiled at me smugly. “Well done! We can finally believe that you aren’t greedy for money. You’ve passed the test. From today, you are qualified to be the daughter of the Jameson family.” “Jane, this brilliant idea was all thanks to you.” My adopted sister smiled. She leaned close and blew out my candle. The only light left in my twenty years of lifetime went out with it. My body gave in to exhaustion. My heart failed. I collapsed and died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, they were about to head to the beach in the middle of the typhoon. I bought a massive accident insurance policy for them on the spot. This time, all I wanted was for them to disappear from this world forever.

His fingers were already at the lace between my thighs when he pushed me against the marble vanity, breath hot, voice darker than sin, his arousal pressing against my throbbing core. "Open your legs for me, Mrs Valentino." He didn’t wait. He plunged into me roughly, his mouth trailing down my neck like he owned it. I hated the way my body arched for him. I hated even more that he smirked when it did. I was supposed to be terrified, not trembling for the man who forced a ring onto my finger two days after abducting me. Before Dante Valentino touched me like that... before he whispered filth and promises into my ears, I was Valentina Morrison: a quiet girl, psychology graduate, volunteer counselor blissfully unaware that my entire life was a lie. I didn’t know the truth about my parents. I didn't know my bloodline belonged to a mafia empire that their hands were filled with blood. I only knew one thing the night I witnessed a murder in a Manhattan alley and it was that I was going to die...until he showed up. Dante, the most feared Italian boss in New York. He was ruthless and calculating. He didn't save me, he claimed me. Only because I’m not just some civilian. I'm the last surviving Castellano heir, the one piece of leverage that can rewrite the entire underworld. So Dante forced a marriage to protect me. To control me. To bind me to him in pleasure and law. And somewhere between running from gunfire and running from him, I made the worst mistake possible: I let the devil touch me. I let his hands teach my body a language my mind despises but my body craves. I let him explore me.