Wrong Person Wrong Time Novels & Stories

Carina Lewis, the head of the department, has been a friend of mine since college. While she successfully climbs up the corporate ladder, I'm stuck being the workhorse at the bottom of the totem pole. When she's late for work, I sign in for her. When she messes up, I clean up for her. I'm happy to play along with her, of course. It's not easy to find someone dumb enough to be the scapegoat. One day, a billionaire investor shows up at the company's doorstep, and the senior executives instruct me to take care of him during his visit. This evening, when the rest of the office is empty, Carina takes my hand and tells me earnestly, "Bailey, investors like him are ruthless. You won't even know what's coming for you. An innocent woman like you won't be able to handle him. Let me, your best friend, test the waters with him first. Once everything is settled, I'll make you a manager." I nod sweetly in response. Hours later, I scurry over to the presidential suite at the hotel, where the billionaire investor is staying, and kick down the door. "Open up, Dal!" It's one thing for Carina to constantly take advantage of me, but how dare she dream of becoming my sister-in-law to steal half of my family's assets? That deluded pipe dream of hers will even make the marble statues in my family's garden roll their eyes.

The day my cancer is diagnosed, my husband slaps me across the face. "You're vicious! You're even pretending to have cancer just to look more pitiful than your sister!" My son shouts, "Mom is horrible! I hate Mom!" I don't cry or make a scene. I quietly put the test results away and choose a grave for myself. In 15 days, I'll leave this city to die somewhere else in peace. I won't even give them the chance to regret it.

"Jennifer, let's get divorced. The Lance family won't have a soiled woman as its matriarch."Two years after their marriage, Maxwell Lance throws a divorce agreement in Jennifer Yale's face. She understands that it's because he wants to give his first love her rightful title. In his eyes, Jennifer's nothing but a flawed product who's already been soiled by another man."You can dream on, Maxwell. For as long as I'm alive, that woman won't step foot in here!"Jennifer's refusal to get a divorce leads to her family's bankruptcy and her father's horrible end. Finally, her heart dies. Maxwell's life becomes void of her presence.On the day of Maxwell's wedding to his first love, his subordinate suddenly tells him, "You've got the wrong woman, Mr. Lance. Your ex-wife's the woman from that night!"

After arguing with my husband, Percy Egan, over our intimacy incompatibility, I decide to stay over at Katie Langdon, my best friend's house for the night. Unexpectedly, Katie's husband, Stefan Foley, has returned from his business trip on the same day. Having mistaken me for Katie, he crawls over my prone body instantly and begins groping me everywhere. Strong waves of pleasure as well as Stefan's scent attack me from all sides. Dizzy from the sensations, I find myself panicking because of how abruptly these powerful yet foreign feelings are overwhelming me. Meanwhile, Stefan's huge member keeps wedging against me. It makes me feel as though it can kill me just by penetrating me. For the first time ever, my body trembles in a mixture of fright and anticipation.

The rich scion, Hayden Jensen, who shares an apartment with me, has a split personality. Sometimes, he's a cheerful and optimistic bright soul who keeps introducing amazing hot guys to me. Thanks to him, I've gotten to know Brock Hayes, a varsity jock, Julian Reed, the gentle campus heartthrob, and Noah Bennett, the sweet underclassman. When the four of us are playing poker happily at home, we hear a furious voice being gritted out from behind. "So, you're saying that I was the one who told them to hang out with you?" I inhale sharply at his words. Oh, no! Hayden's dark side has emerged!

A gorgeous new lawyer named Charlotte Lowell joins our law firm and claims she has been reborn. One day, a publicly listed company offers us a massive ten-million-dollar case. Charlotte warns our boss, Levi Howard, that the company has major issues. If we accept the case, we'll lose in court and be hit with a huge payout. Levi isn't sure if she's bluffing, but in the end, he listens and passes. The next day, that very company collapses. And the rival firm that took the case is hit with a compensation claim worth tens of millions of dollars. To celebrate dodging the bullet, Levi asks me to book a restaurant. But Charlotte immediately tells him not to go to that restaurant because that place is about to have a gas explosion. Hours later, the restaurant blows up just as she mentioned. News of it hits the trending list. After those two incidents, Levi is all-in on believing Charlotte's claim of having been reborn. In order to keep Charlotte, he gives her the executive position that was initially promised to me. When I hand in my resignation, Charlotte urges Levi to stop me. "If Yelena jumps to another firm, she'll use the resources she gained here to crush us. A year from now, we won't even have a firm left." Upon hearing Charlotte's words, my boyfriend and colleague, Finley Smith, steps forward to back her up. "Charlotte's right. I saw a job offer from Vera Legal in Yelena's email. She's really petty. If she joins Vera Legal, we'll surely face her revenge." Levi believes them and rejects my resignation. I file for labor arbitration, but it's no use. In the end, I'm demoted to a janitor at the firm. Driven by resentment, I fall into depression and end up hanging myself at the entrance of the firm. When I open my eyes again, I've gone back to the day Charlotte claims she has been reborn.

I was on vacation with my mother at our country vineyard when a message arrived from Ava, my husband's personal secretary. He was the new Don of the Falcone family. The photo showed a woman, bruised and naked, curled up on the floor of a cold cellar. It was followed by a voice message, her tone arrogant: "Helen, is this what you peasants do? Claw your way out of the mud just to leech off the Don?" "Don Lorenzo just acquired this estate, and you have the nerve to let your blind, ill-mannered mother wander in here to freeload? As the Don's personal secretary, it's my job to uphold the Falcone family's dignity." "This is the price for trespassing on the Don's estate!" I froze, my eyes lifting to the other side of the long table where my mother was sipping her red wine, perfectly safe. I zoomed in on the photo. The moment I saw the details, my heart seized. On a pale hand was a familiar ring. It was the heirloom the Falcone Madre never took off. I immediately dialed Ava's number. "Ava, are you insane? That's Lorenzo's mother!" A careless, almost flirtatious laugh came from the other end of the line. "The Don may consider you his property, but he never agreed to take in your dirt-poor family."

"Sign the contract. Produce an heir. And never question what happens in the dark." Cora Belmont was not supposed to be here. Her sister was the one meant to marry Roman Falcone — East Coast crime boss, untouchable, allegedly monstrous. Her family didn't give Cora a choice. They gave her a sedative. She woke up in silk sheets, with a contract on the pillow and a pen placed precisely against her lips. Sign it, or your family loses more than you. So Cora signs. She signs away her body, her autonomy, and any illusion she had about what marriage means in a world of men who treat women like ledger entries. What she doesn't sign away is her mind. And her mind begins keeping records. Because her husband is impossible. Some nights he is Roman Falcone — cold, brutal, exacting, who takes what he wants and leaves without a word. Other nights, someone comes to her bedroom who touches her like she is the only precious thing in a world of violence. Who whispers her name like a prayer. Who smells of sandalwood instead of gunsmoke. Cora tells herself she's losing her mind. She sets a camera. She watches the footage. And then a thunderstorm lights up the sky outside her window — and she sees both of them. Roman in the doorway, gun in hand, reeking of fresh blood. And Rocco Falcone — The Shadow, the ghost who was never supposed to exist — still in her bed. They are twins. They are equally dangerous. They are both completely obsessed with her. And when Cora tries to run, she discovers that one Falcone is impossible to escape. Two Falcones simply don't accept the concept of escape at all. The wrong vow was just the beginning.

“I don’t know how,” I whispered. “Can you show me? Please, daddy.” He should have said no. Instead, he said, “Lie back and open those pretty legs. Let daddy take care of that for you.” When I shattered all over his fingers he looked at me like I was the most devastating thing he’d ever seen and said, “That’s my sweet girl.” Three days later he put me on a plane to London and didn’t look back. ----- She has spent three years across an ocean trying to unlearn her Stepfather; his voice, his hands, the way he said her name like it cost him something. She almost managed it. Then he called to say he was getting married again and he needed her home. Now she’s back in Boston, sleeping under his roof, watching him plan a future with someone else, and pretending she doesn’t still want him the way she did at nineteen. He is doing the same, pretending. Controlling. Building walls and calling it protection. But three years haven’t changed what’s between them. If anything, the distance made it worse. He sent her away once to save her from him. This time, she isn’t leaving. Some things are wrong in every way that matters, and still impossible to stop. WARNING: This book contains explicit erotic content and is meant for mature audiences. It explores desire, power, and complicated relationships without holding back. Please proceed only if you’re comfortable with that.

After seven years of secretly dating Ross Stockdale, I found a proposal folder hidden in his study. Inside were a seaside dinner plan, a fireworks schedule, and a handwritten vow card. I nearly cried from happiness. I thought Ross was finally going to bring me into the open and give me a home. But on our seventh anniversary, I saw a short video posted by Samora Leone. In the video, the Leone family’s private marina was lit like daylight. Fireworks burst over the water while Samora stood before the family representatives with her arm linked through Ross’s. The caption read: Thank you for loving me all these years. I said yes. The man in the video was Ross. His hand rested on Samora’s waist, and on his finger was the matching silver ring I had designed for him years ago. Everyone believed Samora was the long-lost daughter of the Leone family. They were wrong. The real Leone heir was me.