HJ Lovelace

GIANNA RAINE The card with the 'Constantine De Graaf' written on it. That's the only clue that I got about the identity of the man that impregnated me. I'm not really interested in getting to know him...all I want is to inform him that I am pregnant. That's all. Then, I can move abroad and live a life with my baby as a single mom. But why am I staring at a familiar face? He had left as Elliott the bodyguard. All of a sudden, he's Constantine De Graaf?! CONSTANTINE I'm on cloud nine when Miss Gianna shows up in my office. But it all disappears when she reveals her purpose. WHO THE HELL DARE GETS HER PREGNANT?!!! WHEN I...NO! NO WAY! I'll do everything in my power to help her. For the meantime, I'll take care of her. Give everything she and the baby wants. I promised Miss Gianna that I'll help her find the father of the baby...but I didn't say alive.

After her father's death, Roseline Ferguson watched her mother crumble under the weight of grief and financial strain. So when a marriage proposal arrived-one that promised security and comfort-Roseline pushed aside her doubts. If it meant giving her mother a better life, she'd endure anything... even her cold, sharp-tongued new stepbrother. Maverick Cuervo has always done what his father asked-until the day that same father shattered their family, divorced his mother, and brought home a stranger and her daughter as replacements. Feeling betrayed, Maverick lashed out at the easiest target: Roseline. But what started as resentment slowly shifts into something neither of them expected. As tensions give way to undeniable attraction, Roseline and Maverick find themselves unraveling long-buried secrets-and stepping into a love that could either mend everything or tear their families apart for good.

Blythe Sanchez has had enough. After years of enduring her boyfriend's endless infidelity, her patience has run dry, and her heart is shattered. One impulsive night changes everything when she crosses paths with Larkin Callahan, a mysterious and irresistibly handsome stranger. Larkin's allure pulls her in, but behind his charming smile lie secrets that could either bring them together or tear them apart. What begins as a moment of passion quickly spirals into a whirlwind romance, forcing Blythe to confront not only her past but also the dangerous mysteries surrounding Larkin. Can she risk trusting her heart again, or will his secrets be the final betrayal?

Bella stood before a large mirror in a grand room, brushing her hair. She was preparing herself for what would happen on the first night of her marriage. As Bella was brushing her hair, the door to the room opened, and she saw in the mirror her husband approaching her. Bella put down her hairbrush and turned to face Leandro, who was standing with pride and honor behind her. "You can refuse if you don't want me to do this," Leandro said, his tone cold and formal. Bella lowered her head. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be touched by a man she didn't love. She didn't want anything to happen between her and a man she barely knew, except for their wedding day. But what could she do? She had to fulfill her husband's needs. If he wanted something to happen between them, she couldn't refuse. That's what her father had drilled into her mind. Leandro sighed, and Bella raised her gaze to meet his. Her eyes widened when she saw Leandro undressing. "If you're not going to say anything to stop me, I will take it as permission to have sex with you," Leandro stated. Bella firmly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She stood up and slowly removed her nightdress. Leandro's lips parted in surprise at his wife's actions. Nevertheless, the desires of his flesh overpowered his other emotions. He quickly pulled his wife into a deep kiss, catching Bella off guard, leaving her with no time to close her eyes. The next thing she knew, she was lying on the bed with Leandro on top of her. Leandro's movements were swift. He removed Bella's underwear and looked at her one last time before speaking again. "You can still stop me," Leandro said in a hoarse voice. Bella took a deep breath and shook her head. "This is my obligation as your wife. You don't have to ask me again. Do it." Leandro retrieved a condom, put it on, and then positioned himself before slowly entering Bella. She screamed in pain and discomfort as she accepted her husband's entirety. Bella involuntarily pulled Leandro's hair as he continued to penetrate her slowly. Tears streamed down Bella's face as she felt Leandro's fullness inside her. She gradually began to feel Leandro's movements. That night, Bella experienced a mix of desire and bitterness. She surrendered to her husband's actions, but she cried and felt bitter because she was unsure if this was the life she truly desired. They shared a passionate night, and Bella barely remembered the details due to exhaustion. She woke up the next morning to find her husband no longer by her side. She later discovered that he had left the country early that morning, leaving her alone.

Monique soared to the heavens when Joshua made her his bride. Her love for him brimmed over, so much so that not even the absence of his best man could stop the ceremony. And she even fell in love more with her now husband after the union. What initially appeared to be the prologue of their happily ever after soon changed into a captivating illusion, woven with deceit and falsehood, shattering her once-rosy reality. Now faced with the daunting truth, Monique must grapple with the revelation that the husband she adored is not the man she believed him to be but instead his twin brother…Jacob. What if the lie that she had been living with was the fairytale that she had been wanting all her life? Is love enough to overshadow the web of deception entwining them?

Amelie Pearce, born into one of the prominent crime families in Chicago, is a princess of the mafia renowned for her physical attractiveness. However, what many perceive as a blessing becomes her downfall when she is compelled to marry Gio Merante, in order to establish peace between two mafia dynasties. Gio is the prospective head of the Merante Cartel within the New York Famiglia, a man infamous for his brutal nature and for strangling his cousin with his bare hands. Millie is filled with terror at the prospect of marrying such a monster. Despite being one of the most desirable bachelors in New York due to his good looks, wealth, and charismatic but predatory demeanor, Millie understands that Gio's bad boy persona is more than just an act. Behind Gio's captivating gray eyes and arrogant smile lie bloodshed and death. In her world, an attractive exterior often conceals a hidden monster—one capable of both killing and kissing with equal ease. However, escaping from the arranged union, let alone a man like Gio, is impossible. He would pursue her to the ends of the earth. Millie's only hope of survival in a marriage with Gio is to win his affection and gradually find her way into his heart—despite rumors that suggest Gio possesses no heart at all. A beautiful mafia princess given to a monstrous man. Even monsters harbor a heart. She fully intends to find her place within it.

Sheika Naya, a middle eastern princess who lives in isolation, seeks for freedom. Escaping from her father's strict ruling, she finds herself living a normal and yet risky life in the bustling city of New York. Still being trapped in lies about her true identity, Naya crosses paths with Finnigan Langston- an Omega from the Nightshade Howlers of the Eastern Coast. Both are escaping the lies that are continuously trapping them, they find strength in each other's presence as they search for answers in their respective dilemmas.. Will love be enough to defy what nature dictates? A story that rewrites the mythology of wolves, creating a more relatable world where love stands against the betrayal of time, culture, and lies.

For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne. But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.” My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love. He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter. They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."

Three days before the wedding. I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman. Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress. The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem. It didn't spell Elena. It read Sofia. He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name. Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife. He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance. I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared. "The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?" "Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport." "Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys." I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday. He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead.

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up. As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress. The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me. The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one. With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered. I chose the one man they never expected. I chose his father, the Don himself.

I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella. Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark. But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved. Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies. When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel. While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest. The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella. He ordered my father to punish me. I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth. That night, the love in my heart finally died. On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven. Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney. By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.

On our first wedding anniversary, my husband walked out the door. Not for business. For her. I left the divorce papers on the table, my wedding ring next to his untouched champagne, and I disappeared into the night. For a year, I watched Dominic Rossi—the ruthless Underboss of the New York syndicate—drop everything the moment his phone buzzed with another crisis from Sophia. A panic attack. A sleepless night. A lie. I was his wife, the woman he’d promised to cherish, but I was never his priority. So I chose myself. Now he’s tearing the city apart trying to find me. But I’m already gone—building a new life with a job that’s mine, an apartment that’s mine, and a name that doesn’t belong to him. The girl who waited in that penthouse is dead. The woman who walked out isn’t looking back. When Dominic finally corners me, I see the cracks in his armor. He says he’s sorry. He says he loves me. He says he finally understands. But some words are too late, and some promises can’t be fixed. He made me guess for a year. Now it’s his turn to wonder if I’ll ever come back. A heart-wrenching, standalone mafia romance about a woman who refused to be second choice, and the man who learned too late what he’d lost.

On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna. He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant. "It’s a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son." He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years. He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman. They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago. I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.* Dante was the sterile one. I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret. Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible. I signed the divorce papers without a tear. Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening. I didn't come to object. I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was.

I walked in on my fiancé sleeping with my maid of honor... On the day of our wedding. I did what anyone would do: Threw my ring in his face and found somewhere quiet to cry. But then something else happened. Something unexpected. In that quiet place... Someone found me. Anton Stepanov is like something out of a dream. Scratch that: out of a nightmare. He's rich as sin, arrogant as heck, and way too handsome for his own good. He's also way too handsome for mine. So when he offers me his hand and a way out of the worst day of my life, I do the only thing I can do: I say yes. That's how I ended up on his yacht. That's how I ended up in his bed. That's how I ended up pregnant with his baby.

I was sold to pay off my father's debt. But instead of freedom, I found myself owned by a monster in a suit. Emilia never expected her life to be torn apart overnight. Quiet, soft-spoken, and painfully naïve, she was handed over like a transaction, to the most feared Mafia Lord in the city. Lucien Moretti is powerful, ruthless, and cold as ice. He doesn't need her love, just her obedience. But Emilia isn't prepared for the way his eyes burn when someone else touches her. Or the way her heart races when he lowers his walls, if only for a second. Everyone says Lucien has no soul. But monsters don't protect girls like her. And they definitely don't bleed. As secrets unravel and blood debts resurface, Emilia must decide: is Lucien her captor... or her only chance at survival? In a world of betrayal and danger, she was sold to the devil. But the devil might just be falling for her.