Winter Trees

Book 1 - His Mate Book 2 - His Mate: The Demon King Book 3 - His Mate - Prince Asher "I know you are there," she said, her heart beating loud in her chest as her eyes searched frantically around. "I can...sense you." She added, hoping that might just scare whoever of whatever that was following her. She sighed, waiting for an answer or a noise, or anything that would just alert her of the ubiquitous presence with her. However, when a long time passed and nothing happened -the trees were still as still as they were and the moonlight shone as brightly- she counted from one to ten and turned to continue on her walk but she stopped frozen when she came face to face with the biggest wolf she had ever seen. Her heart jumped out of her chest when her eyes locked with it's red ones. A late run in the woods one night brought Asher to human teenagers camping in the woods. A flitting thought to see what they were up to brought him face to face to someone he never thought he would meet. She was not pretty and wasn't even the average of his taste in women but there was something about her that seemed to pull him and seemed to calm his raging demon. But apart from that was something else, something that screamed danger and might ruin all his years of effort.

"Mom, Dad, I’ve decided to come home for the blind dates you mentioned. I’ll be back by the end of the month." In the early spring, with the lingering chill of winter in the air, Valerie Stonecutter pushed open the door while speaking softly into the phone. Her gentle voice drifted through the rain like a thread weaving through the mist. Pulling her collar tighter against the cold, she heard her parents breathe a sigh of relief on the other end. "Val," her father began, his voice heavy with age. “Your mom and I haven’t been in good health these past few years. So now that you’ve made up your mind, that’s good. When you’re back, I’ll have your Aunt Laura arrange a few suitable candidates for you to meet." Hearing that her parents were already making arrangements for her future, Valerie’s gaze flickered, her emotions momentarily unsettled. After a few more words of small talk, she ended the call. She glanced around her home with a heavy heart, her thoughts tangled in a quiet storm. Then she retreated to her bedroom and began to pack.

I chase my six-year-old daughter out of the house on a cold winter day. I cut her new clothes to pieces and dirty her dainty little face with mud. Then, I give her all my savings. She looks at me tearfully and reaches out for me, wanting me to hold her. However, I harden my heart and push her away, saying, "Leave! Go to Bowen Group and look for their CEO, Logan Bowen. Show him my death certificate and your DNA test—he'll take you in." She sobs while looking at me. "Don't you want me anymore, Mommy? Let's go look for Daddy together." After a brief silence, I say, "I can't go with you. I lied to him back then to have you." Yes, I'm a liar. I orchestrated everything from meeting Logan, dating him, to ultimately leaving him with his child in my womb. Even the death certificate I've given my daughter is fake. From beginning to end, I've lied to him about everything except our daughter.

Survival taught Elon Rivers that his body could be a weapon—just not in the way his stepfather intended. Now he works the con: dress pretty, play helpless, drug them, and disappear with their valuables. It's not honest work, but nothing about Elon's life has ever been honest. When he targets the wrong mark—Fort Thorne, a mafia enforcer with eyes like a winter grave—his carefully constructed world shatters. Fort knew exactly what Elon was from the moment he walked into that hotel room. The briefcase Elon stole contained information worth killing for, and Fort wants it back. There's just one problem: Elon's roommate has already stolen it from him, and now Fort is out two million dollars. Fort's offer is simple: return what was stolen, or work off the debt. Every single Penny. Trapped in Fort's world of violence and power, Elon discovers that his captor is as damaged as he is, and that the line between hatred and desire is thinner than he ever imagined. But in a world where trust is a luxury neither can afford, falling for the enemy might be the most dangerous con of all.

My mate, Loki Olson, was the Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack, the strongest warrior in the pack. Yet he was colder to me than winter stone, stingy with even the smallest trace of warmth. It was only after my hair had turned completely white that I accidentally saw him gazing at a photograph of my sister, Alice Brewer, his eyes full of longing and tenderness. That was when I finally understood why Loki had never held a mating ceremony with me. His heart had always belonged to Alice. Marrying me was nothing more than fulfilling an agreement made with my father. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at our bonding ceremony. Without mercy, Loki tore up our wedding contract in front of everyone, then reached for Alice's hand and announced their engagement amid the cheers and blessings of countless werewolves. As for me, I picked up the phone and called my father, the former Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack. "Dad, I've made up my mind. I'm willing to take Alice's place and marry into the Goldlush Pack."

On my birthday, Connor Simpson's first love jumped off a building due to depression. She died on the spot. Connor blamed everything on me. I never celebrated my birthday again after she died. After the murderer electrocuted me for more than ten hours, they forced me to call Connor. "Connor, it's my 25th birthday today. Can you come over and spend time with me?" However, Connor did not notice anything unusual. His voice was laced with venomous iciness. "Clarisse Winter, Audrey wouldn't have died if it weren't for you. How dare you ask me to celebrate your birthday? If only you were the one who died." I heard him coaxing a woman on the other end just before he hung up on me. That low and gentle tone was what I loved to hear the most in the past. That night, the murderer cut my body into countless pieces, packed them in bags, and threw them in front of the police station. Connor was summoned back overnight. He spent two days and two nights piecing together the body parts, but he did not realize that the dead person was the wife that he hated the most.

A writer once said, "We don't need down jackets in summer, fans in winter, and attention after we're disappointed." After the breakup, I became happy and even found myself. Thanks for letting me go. This is a series of stories after breakups. A relationship may not necessarily make people happier, but a breakup will definitely do it. “Seven Ear Piercings” I had a secret relationship with my stepmother's son. When we broke up, it became particularly unpleasant. One day, he got drunk and intercepted me in the bathroom. He said, "I'm a masochist. We'll torment each other until our hair turns grey. What can you do to me?" “Blind Date With an Undercover Cop” I never expected to meet him again. The last time I saw him, he was a clumsy barista who messed up my order nine times in a row. I felt sorry for him, so I tried to crack a joke. "Hey, are you an undercover cop?" He looked startled and denied it quickly. But as soon as I left the cafe, he locked the door and disappeared. Later on, we ran into each other again. He stopped me and said, "You're under arrest, because you have stolen my heart, darling."

It has been fifty-five days since my fiancé cut me off. I called off the wedding I'd waited eight long years for. All while he was caring for his childhood sweetheart, who was battling depression and seeking peace at a remote retreat. He even had the historic chapel—a local landmark called the Aethelred Sanctuary—closed to the public for six months because of her. And me? I was left to face the swarming reporters, hounded from one place to the next until I had nowhere left to hide—all because he disappeared without a word. Out of options, I went to the retreat to find him. But he turned me away, saying I would disturb the quiet and sanctity of the place. In the bitter cold of deep winter, I collapsed outside the gates, barely holding on. When I woke, I saw him—Jonathan—planting an entire garden of roses on the grounds, every bloom a declaration of love. Six months later, he finally left and returned home with his childhood sweetheart. The roses they had planted now filled what was supposed to be our wedding venue, from floor to ceiling. I watched them, cold and unmoved. What he didn't know was this—I was already engaged to someone else.

Wendy McNaulty never expected her twenties to look like this—sharing a quirky Boston townhouse with her two best friends, juggling a job she doesn’t love, and navigating a love life that’s as messy as the city’s winter slush. With Grady, her charming and overly confident roommate, and Scott, the quiet and steady best friend who knows her better than anyone, Wendy’s life is a whirlwind of late-night pizza runs, laughter, and unspoken tension. When a disastrous breakup pushes her to “figure herself out,” Wendy vows to swear off romance and focus on herself—only to find love and scandal showing up where she least expects it. As lines blur between friendship and something deeper, Wendy is forced to confront her own heart. Torn between the thrill of the new and the comfort of what’s always been, she begins to unravel feelings she’s kept buried for years. But just when she thinks she has it all figured out, an unexpected twist threatens to change everything. In the midst of secrets, mistakes, and the kind of vulnerability she’s always avoided, Wendy learns that true love doesn’t always come in the form you expect—it’s often been standing right beside you all along.

I've planned seven wedding ceremonies in total, and not once has my fiance, Zachary Gardner, ever shown up for it. The first time, his adopted younger sister, Louise Foster, bursts into tears because she lost her passport at the airport. It was the dead of winter, but he dumped me by the side of the road and left me. The second time, Louise's dog sprained its ankle. Zachary stuffed the ring back into its box and rushed to the animal hospital to accompany her. Every time I argue with him about it, he declares nonchalantly, "We can get married anytime, but I can't let Louise be upset." Everyone around us agrees with him, saying that we're all family anyway, so I shouldn't be so petty. None of them has seen Zachary and Louise kissing fiercely on the dance floor. Today is the seventh wedding ceremony. Once again, he turns to leave after getting a call. I grab the corner of his shirt and say in a choked voice, "If you leave this time, Zachary, I won't marry you anymore." He stops in his tracks and peels off my fingers. "Wait for me," he says before rushing off. What he doesn't know is that this time, I won't be waiting for him any longer.