Weird But Funny Novels & Stories

To take care of my mother after she fell and injured herself, I turned down a promotion and took a week off work to stay by her side. On the day she was discharged from the hospital, she smiled and handed me a small envelope. “Suzy, you’ve worked hard these past few days. This is just a little something from me. Go treat yourself to something good.” I wiped my hands, a quiet warmth spreading through my chest. When I opened the envelope, I froze for a moment. Inside was $2. Still, I told myself it didn’t matter. The amount wasn’t important. What mattered was the thought behind it. But the very next day, while scrolling through social media, I came across a post from my younger brother, the one who hadn’t shown his face at the hospital even once. Nine photos filled the post, all of them showing off a sprawling luxury mansion. In the center was a photo of the purchase contract. The caption read: “Officially the owner of a $2 million riverfront house. Big thanks to Mom for the support!”

For three years, I was the perfect wife, silent, loyal, and invisible. Until the day my husband handed me divorce papers… to protect another woman. He thought I would beg. He thought I would break. He didn’t know I had already seen it coming. So I signed. And I left. What he doesn’t know is that I’m carrying his child. And I was never just the woman he married. When I return months later richer, colder, and standing beside the one man he can never defeat, the husband who discarded me finally realizes the truth. He didn’t lose me. He was never worthy of me.

On a stormy night during the apocalypse, my own mother threw me out of the house while I was burning with fever, along with my husky, so my little brother would have a better chance of surviving. She shouted through the crack in the door, “Take that useless mutt and go die somewhere. Stop wasting your brother’s food!” I huddled in a pile of trash with my dog in my arms, convinced I was going to die. Then my husky suddenly spoke. “Host’s vital signs critically low. Infinite Supply Search System activated.” “Supermarket warehouse one hundred meters ahead. Three thousand freeze-dried meals detected.” “Pharmacy five hundred meters to the left. Five hundred boxes of antibiotics detected.” Three days later, I’d built a fortress with packs of dogs and mountains of supplies. I sat inside eating steak and watching the show. Outside the barbed wire, my mother and brother were on their knees, fighting each other over half a piece of moldy bread. I smiled. “Mom, even dogs wouldn’t eat that. Better savor it.”

"Want me." He groaned. I hadn't taken a good look of the man I was in bed with. I opened my eyes a bit, and looked at him. I couldn't see his face, but he had black hair. "My name is Asher, and I'll make you scream it in different positions." His hand left my breast, into my vagina. "Asher…" I rubbed his head, holding him closer to me. I moaned loudly. I was enjoying every second of this. Amelia Brooks spent three years loving Damian. He spent those three years lying. At her own engagement party, he got down on one knee — and proposed to her younger sister instead. That night, humiliated and half-drunk, she stumbled into the wrong hotel room and into the arms of a stranger. Rough. Unforgettable. She left before sunrise, no regrets. She walked into a boardroom at the company her grandmother left her — and found him sitting. Asher Sinclair. Major shareholder. And Damian's uncle. The man who wrecked her body in the dark now holds her future in his hands. Desperate to fulfill her grandmother's secret marriage clause or lose everything, Amelia signs a contract that makes her his wife. No feelings allowed. But Damian isn't done with her. He wants her back. He shows up at her office with roses and lies, at every turn whispering that she was always his. And Asher? He watches. He waits. And one night, he reminds her exactly who she belongs to — not with words, but with his hands, his mouth, the way he says her name like a prayer and a warning all at once. Now Amelia is trapped between the ex who shattered her and husband who owns her.

The day I received my medical report and found out I was pregnant, my husband—Alpha Scott Hansen—held a small wedding ceremony in the hospital garden with his first love and former mate, Gillian Boyd. He explained, “Her final wish in this life was to be my bride.” But what about me? What was I to him? A replacement? It finally hit me—ten years of unwavering devotion and sacrifice meant nothing compared to a single tear shed by his first love.

Five years after my death, my ex-husband, Adrian Shaw, came home with his childhood sweetheart, Hannah Reed, on his arm. They were preparing for a new mating ceremony. His only wish before the ceremony was to find me and make me pay for severing our mate bond and betraying him all those years ago. To force me to show myself, he destroyed my family's company, drove my father out of his mind, and burned down the home we had once shared. What he did not know was that I was already dead. Five years earlier, desperate to pay for the treatment he needed after a car accident badly injured his inner wolf, I signed up as a test subject at an underground clinic. It was an illegal clinic that used live subjects to test experimental silver-derived compounds and wolfsbane antidotes. I died in its basement. Later, my grandmother, who had dementia, ran into Adrian in the neighborhood. My grandmother's face lit up with joy. "Adrian, you're back? Grace has missed you so much. Come with me. I'll take you to see Grace."

My mother asked me to step aside and let my twin sister have Ronan, my mate-to-be. She held my hand gently, her eyes full of pleading. "Mara, your sister has given in to you for twenty years. Just this once, let her have him, all right?" She was not wrong. I had been fighting and grabbing since I was a child. Whatever my twin sister, Aurelia, had, I had to have too. Even when she took medicine, I would insist on stealing a sip. Mom always said I had been competitive before I was even born, that I had taken too much from Aurelia in the womb, and that was why she had come into the world so weak. So dad would wade through freezing river water and go deep into the forest to pick moonfruit for her. Mom learned to weave so she could make every dress Aurelia wore from childhood to adulthood with her own hands. And I had nothing. All I could do was charge forward like a little thief, snatching whatever scraps I could reach. Because I knew that if I did not fight for anything, nothing would ever be mine. This time, Aurelia fell in love with Ronan at first sight. And I, who had never given up so much as an inch, obeyed without a fight. "Fine." After all, I had been poisoned by wolfsbane while saving her and mom, and I was already living on borrowed time. After I died, regret drove them all mad.

To encourage overall development, the kindergarten had asked each student to create a hand-drawn poster. My daughter Holly refused my help and insisted on doing it all on her own. Little did I know, most of the other children had their parents do the artwork for them. In comparison, Holly's delicate strokes were quickly dismissed. Not only was her work discarded into the trash, but her teacher also called her out in the parent group, criticizing her for being careless with the assignment. As I racked my brain trying to figure out how to help Holly regain her confidence in drawing, I was surprised to see Holly's artwork among the winning entries in the state-level children's art competition. But the signature wasn't hers—it belonged to another student from her class.

Naomi Belle was raised in the shadows—an elite assassin whose name alone made the underworld flinch. But after uncovering the truth about her stolen past, and a slight problem, she walks away from blood and darkness to return home… only to discover her parents are alive and she has an overprotective brother who think she’s an angel. Unfortunately, Naomi’s idea of “gentle and well-behaved” involves resisting the urge to snap necks when irritated. Keeping her secret identity hidden is hard enough—until a nosy, sharp-eyed businessman named Stephen Smith literally catches her red-handed. Instead of exposing her, Stephen starts teasing his way into her double life—and her guarded heart. His relentless humor, maddening charm, and inconveniently golden personality chip away at Naomi’s killer instincts, one smirk at a time. But love doesn’t erase danger. The underworld hasn’t forgotten its deadliest recruit, and Naomi’s family and Stephen become perfect leverage. Between keeping her halo straight for her brother and hiding a gun under her cardigan, Naomi will have to decide which identity to protect—and who she’s willing to kill for when both worlds collide.

Everything I Bled For She lost the baby on the stairs. She lost her husband to the woman who pushed her. Anna Whitfield spent two years trying for a baby with the man she loved. The night she finally got her two pink lines, she ran home to tell him, and never made it past the staircase. His mistress pushed her. His mistress’s baby survived. Hers didn’t. And when Anna woke up in a hospital bed, broken and bleeding, her husband wasn’t holding her hand. He was feeding grapes to the woman who put her there. That should have been the worst night of her life. It wasn’t even close. Because the Whitfields don’t let go of what they think belongs to them, and Anna is about to learn exactly how far a family will go to keep her silent, keep her small, and keep her exactly where they want her. They think they broke her. They have no idea what she’s about to become.