What Rose Forgot Novels & Stories

Rozelyn found out she is a vampire when she turned eighteen. To make matters worse, her stepmom is secretly a vampire as well and Cyrill, her stepmom's adoptive son, is a werewolf behind the shadows. As she live the life of being a vampire, several people had come for her—including the infamous Blood Mistress, a witch who hunts vampires and werewolves. Rozelyn become more fascinated with the vampire life, especially when she found out that sex plays a huge role in a vampire's everyday living and it acts like blood: once they tasted it, they will crave for it even more. Will Rozelyn be able to voice out her secret love to Cyrill without risking the familial relationship they have built for years? Or will she watch her loved ones perish due to her identity as the most powerful vampire to ever live? Amidst all these, only one thing is certain: Blood is thicker than water—either literally or figuratively.

The day the Thorne family announced our engagement, the New York underworld let out a collective sigh of relief. Because I was set to marry Daemon, the most straitlaced Don in the city, which meant I could no longer be the wild rose who tore up the racetrack. But I resisted with every fiber of my being, finding creative ways to test his limits. During his ten-million-dollar card game with a rival family's Capo, my hand "slipped" and sent a bottle of 1945 Romanee-Conti spilling across the ancient map that outlined their territories, sabotaging the entire negotiation. Daemon, however, just slowly and deliberately wiped the wine from the back of his hand. He didn't even frown as he cleaned up my mess. Then I "accidentally" let my spirited Arabian stallion loose in his immaculately manicured courtyard. The beast went wild, trampling his prize-winning rose garden into mud. But he arrived with his private doctor in tow, crouching before me as his long fingers gently traced the scratch on my arm. "Did the beast hurt you?" Just that one question, and my heart melted completely. "Daemon, I can marry you. But before that, has there ever been another woman who owned your heart?" "I don't share my man. Not in any way." He pointed to his heart, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes. "Before you, this was empty." After we married, the word on the street in New York's circles of power was this: If you angered Don Thorne, his Donna might plead your case. But if you angered the Donna, you were on your own. Even I began to believe that Daemon, that mountain of ice, would eventually melt for me. Until the day I went to find him, clutching a positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy. Only to hear the family's Consigliere ask him, from the top-floor study, what the best lie he'd ever told was. Daemon chuckled and said casually, "She asked me if anyone had my heart before her." "I told her no."

My wife and I had agreed to spend the holiday at my parents' house. Right before we walked out the door, she said, "I forgot to change my address again. The package was delivered to Grant's place!" I went still. Three years of marriage, and yet she had never once updated her default shipping address. A microwave she ordered online was delivered to her ex-boyfriend. She said it worked out, since his microwave was broken anyway. The anniversary gift she had picked out for me was signed for by her ex-boyfriend. She said it would be too awkward to ask for it back. The Valentine's Day gift she ordered for me online ended up in her ex-boyfriend's hands. She said she could not give me something secondhand, so she let him keep it. This time, she was ordering a holiday gift basket, and I had reminded her two weeks in advance. It still went to her ex-boyfriend. I kept my voice as steady as I could. "Go get it back. Drive over there right now." Her expression darkened. "He already signed for it. How am I supposed to get it back? We'll just pick something up on the way." "Get it back," I said. "Do you have to be so petty?" she snapped. "You're a grown man. You always have to make such a big deal out of everything." Every time something ended up at her ex-boyfriend's place and I asked her to get it back, that was the answer I got. My hands clenched until the knuckles went white as I watched her slam the door on her way out. I ignored the dull ache in my chest and sent a message to my lawyer. "Happy holidays. Could you please draft a divorce agreement for me? Thank you."

"I’m doing you a favor, Vega. I hate seeing a shallow guy like you." With one cold, swift motion, Elena tossed the heart-shaped stone—the sole remaining token of their childhood friendship—straight into the trash bin right before Julian’s eyes. To Elena Castillo, Julian Vega was the one piece of her past she had desperately wanted to hold onto forever. Yet, every beautiful memory of him shattered completely on her very first day at San Aurelio University. The man standing just across her dorm room was no longer the Julian she once knew. He had grown into someone completely unrecognizable; tall, broad-shouldered, breathtakingly handsome, and adored by the entire campus. What truly broke Elena’s heart, however, was that he now belonged to the exact same world as Valeria Montes—the popular girl who had made Elena’s high school years a living hell. Elena chose to pull back, maintain her distance, and treat Julian like a complete stranger. To her, the Julian she used to miss was already dead. What Elena didn't know was that Julian had returned to Solverde and chosen the exact same university for one reason only: her. Julian still treasured every little thing Elena had ever given him, and he had considered her the most beautiful girl in the world since the very first day she stood up for him. As misunderstandings piled up, the wall between them only grew taller. Then, an impulsive act at a college party stripped away the masks they had both been wearing for so long. With the threads of their past tangled in ego and insecurity, can they ever find a way forward or are they destined to live forever as strangers who secretly long for one another?

Eva and Samuel meet through Eva's best friend, you could say it was love at first sight. As time goes by, things begin to get complicated in this love affair. Will they be able to overcome the problems that arise along the way?

"You promised me your virginity and your body. I was foolish to pass on the first, but like a debt collector, I am here to take the latter which belongs to me. Your body is mine, Rosianna." . . A loved one who became a stranger and a heart filled with secrets... . . “Oh, Rosy,” Santos whispered, his voice sending shivers down her heated body. “Do you remember?” “What?” she asked, even though she feared that she already knew what he was asking. He leaned closer to her ear. “That night six years ago? Right here, in this house, in this room...you begged me to take your body” Her eyes closed at the pain of the memory. “Let me go, Santos. I don’t want you anymore.” she lied. Pressing his body against hers, his hand slid underneath the towel and caressed her there. She leaned into him and throatily. He nibbled at her ear, and whispered, “That’s not what your body is saying, darling.”

The night before our wedding, Desmond Arlington got jumped out of nowhere. By the time I made it to the hospital, he stared at me like I was a total stranger. Doctor said it was memory loss—some brain rattle from the hit. Temporary, supposedly. So I went full nostalgia tour, dragging him back to all our spots, hoping something would click. Then one day at the hospital, I caught him running his mouth with his buddy. "Rhea's trying so hard. Doesn't that do anything for you?" "Do what? I'm over it. Same spots, same girl. The new ones are way more fun." "So why marry her? Just call it off and live your life." He snapped, "Shut up. I LOVE Rhea. I'd never bail on the wedding. I'm just... pushing it back a bit." I looked down at the test results—zero issues. Everything normal. And that's when it hit me: you can't help a faker.

[RATED 19+ CONTENT AHEAD] "This is the last time, Thea." He thrust himself entirely into me, and I whimpered. "Yes, Daddy." That was the lie we told ourselves. *** He was my father's best friend. The man I called "Uncle Stellan." Now, my father is gone, and Stellan Vaughn is my new guardian. My new boss. He’s cold, ruthless, and the most powerful man in New York. He’s supposed to protect me, to guide me. But at my father's funeral, when his dark eyes met mine, what I saw wasn't comfort. It was a hunger that lit a matching fire in me. That's when I realized, there was no going back for this man and me, nor were we prepared to experience both of our lives getting f**ked over. He thinks I’m an innocent, grieving girl. He doesn't know I'm just as broken as he is. He doesn't know I want his control to shatter. He's the one man I can never have. The one man who could destroy my future. And the only one I'm willing to sin for.

I was raised to be invisible. In the kingdom of Avelaine, a maid’s life is meant to pass quietly—unnoticed and unchanged. I knew my place in the halls of Hawthorne Palace, until Prince Roman Davenport looked at me as though I was something more than a shadow. He belonged to the crown. I belonged to silence. What grew between us was never spoken aloud. It lived in careful glances, restrained words, and moments stolen where no one was meant to see. Loving him was dangerous—not because of scandal, but because it asked for something I was never meant to have. In a world ruled by duty and inheritance, some desires are not forbidden by law… but by reality itself.

At a dinner party, my genius painter of a husband, Henry Shepherd, used his hands, hands insured for millions, to shell crabs for his young assistant, Tamara Lee. This was all to coax her into eating a few bites when she claimed she had no appetite. Meanwhile, I drank myself into a bloody mess, trying to secure investments for him. When I asked him to hand me some antacids, he refused without even looking up. “These hands are for painting. Use your own.” For ten years, he couldn’t even be bothered to change the way he treated me. That night, as I sobered up in the cold wind, I asked my lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. "Henry, in this vast, chaotic world, our paths end here," I said inwardly