LadyRosabella

Allie and Hella Harbor used to have a happy family life. That was before a cold hearted killed cut down heir parents. Fearing for their lives, they flee...right into the arms of danger. What would you do if you had a killer in the family?

Livy has always had a difficult life, she's never been one of the girls with a million friends. One night a 'prince charming' in the form of a road worker finds her passed out on the sidewalk. This begins a rather forced friendship as they endure the tragedies that life rolls at them. Just a sweet story that WILL have a happy ending.

**This a rough story i did many years ago. It's rough but can be a good read if you use your imagination a bit....** This includes four short stories 1. The Big Heist (Story Of Mi'co) 2. Madness of Mi'cio 3.Enemy of Mi'cio 4.Ghost of Mi'cio Here is a scene from part two Madness of Mi'cio: She couldn’t see her mom but she followed her voice, she walked toward it. “Mother, what is going on?” she whispered. “Nobody knows.” A voice on the right answered. “Something really weird is going on here, Rose. There is something wrong with Webb and his gang of justice dealers.” Her father warned. “Beware of them.” “Is there anyway I can get you guys out of here?” she whispered. “No. Webb has the only security card that has access to all the prison doors.” One of Webb’s jailed officers informed her. “Is there anything else I should know?” she whispered. There was silence as each of the prisoners considered. “There is a spare blaster in my room,” her father whispered, “keep it with you always, and don’t hesitate to use it, Rose.” This is a first attempt at writing, check out some of my other stuff ( better writing, I promise) and let me know what you think! Thanks!! :)

Willow, daughter of Zane and River, has had a crush on her best friend since she was ten years old. Her overprotective family members and friends are worried that he'll break her heart. Meanwhile, however, an evil is brewing that may change every thing Willow thought she knew. Will she have the strength to over come it or will it break the cheerful girl. Will Trent, son of Micah and Lily, ever act on his desires for his best friend or will he allow insecurities to rule over his life. Join Zane, River, Micah, Lily, Rhett, Lacey, Vance and Grace as well as their many children in the third book of the Loving series. 1. Loving River 2. Loving Lily 3. The Ranger's Daughter 4. Loving Willow This is a clean historical romance that will have an HEA Happy Reading!

April Grace had a childhood unlike most girl's. Despite the differences, she has always been a happy, likable girl. When tragedy shakes her faith and trust , only friends- and a certain handsome cowboy will help her to survive this storm and fulfill the last promise she made to her father: To move on and be happy. Author's Note: *This story does contain a slightly touchy subject.* If it bothers you then by all means do not read. It was deeply on my mind and heart though and I simply HAD to write it out. This is a CLEAN HISTORICAL ROMANCE with a HAPPILY EVER AFTER! HAPPY READING! - Lady Rosabella

His first memories were of watching his father do business with his 'clients'. Zane's father is rich, powerful, and evil. Everything Zane is determined not to be. After watching his father murder an innocent couple, Zane leaves town to create a life of his own. When circumstances bring him home, he comes face to face with a victim he loved as a child. She remembers crouching in the empty pickle barrel in a cellar. Shouting. Her mother pleading for more time. Gun shots. Silence. Then men men began searching. Searching for her. "Find me that girl." Her nightmare growled. "I have plans for her." Loud suggestive laughter followed his statement. From that day forward, River began her life over. Working her job, paying her rent, and avoiding the advances of a man eager to catch her off guard. Life was lonely but it was predictable. Predictable meant safe. Then Zane arrived. He's determined to win her heart. She will learn how to love. *This is a CLEAN HEA historical romance.

Deputy Micah finds himself alone and lonely when his best friend finds himself happily married. While all the other men have families and homes to go to at the end of the day, Micah goes to the only place that feels like home. The saloon. Lily has escaped her rich powerful abusive father. She longs to rescue her sister from the same situation, so she works as a serving girl at the saloon, saving every penny she earns to send for her sister. Micah has always admired the sweet gentle serving girl, though he has no idea the amount of trouble that admiration will bring him. THIS IS A HAPPILY EVER AFTER HISTORICAL ROMANCE This a sequel to Loving River- it can stand alone but it helps if you've read the first.

Stefon J. Ridry- aka- Jude S. Rydir is a man who relies on no one and nothing. Life and people ( his family) has taught him that you can trust no one. So he does what he must. He goes to a small developing western town to live a quiet life of seclusion. Living a secluded life is not easy as it should be with his brother's henchman gunning for him, a widow lady dermined to find him his soul mate, and a sweet girl looking for a friend. Bliss Starett moved to her Aunt's small Colorado town to help her get back on her feet after an accident. Bliss explected wildflowers, dust, and fields filled with cows. Life away from her city life. What she didn't expect was a sly aunt trying to marry her off to the town's recluse, being kidnapped by a hulk of a man, and falling in love with the same distrusting, quiet man that her aunt's trying her match-making skills on. Attention: This is a CLEAN historical romance

When a strange girl crash lands on an even stranger planet trouble stirs. Together, Aleia, her dragon, and even the entire planet will be forced to fight the evil that lays above them.

Wagon Train Adventure! Evlyn Riebe finally gets her chance at life and adventure... but nothing is as it should be. Follow her along her wagon train adventure and ultimately into territory that will determine her fate.... Will she risk her heart to fall in love or will she die at the hands of a friend? **This is a CLEAN historical romance***

Eighteen days after giving up on Brendan Maynard, Jayde Rosario cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend UC Berkeley. Her father, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she' d always insisted on staying with Brendan. Jayde forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Brendan was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him. That night, she tried to tell Brendan about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Chloie Ellis, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Brendan' s tender words to Chloie twisted a knife in Jayde' s heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had protected her, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a diary and a love letter, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!" He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Chloie home and told her to call her "sister-in-law." Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Brendan out of her heart.

Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Ethan, asked me for a divorce for the 38th time. He does this for Ilene, his childhood friend. The woman who crashed her car on our wedding day, leaving her unable to have children. Ever since, he's been repaying a debt of guilt, and I've been the price. For five years, I endured the cycle of divorce and remarriage. But this time was different. Ilene pushed me down a flight of stairs. Ethan found me bleeding and promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay. But days later, the police called. The security footage of the incident had been mysteriously erased. There was no evidence, no case. That night, Ilene had me kidnapped. As her men tore at my clothes in the back of a van, I managed to call Ethan. He rejected my call. I jumped from the moving van. And as I ran for my life, bleeding on the cold asphalt, I made a vow. This time, there would be no 39th remarriage. This time, I would disappear.

On my birthday, my mother told me it was time to choose a fiancé from New York's most eligible bachelors. She urged me to pick Alexander Booth, the man I loved with a foolish passion in my previous life. But I remembered how that love story ended. On the eve of our wedding, Alexander faked his death in a private jet crash. I spent years as his grieving fiancée, only to find him alive and well on a beach, laughing with the poor student I had personally sponsored. They even had a child. When I confronted him, our friends—the men who had pretended to comfort me—held me down. They helped Alexander throw me into the ocean and watched from the pier as I drowned. As the water closed over my head, only one person showed any real emotion. My childhood rival, Darrian Golden, screamed my name as they held him back, his face twisted in grief. He was the only one who cried at my funeral. Opening my eyes again, I was back in our penthouse, just a week before the big decision. This time, when my mother asked me to choose Alexander, I gave her a different name. I chose the man who mourned me. I chose Darrian Golden.

I went to the bank to set up a surprise trust fund for my twins' sixth birthday. For six years, I’d been the loving wife of tech mogul Gavyn Dunlap, and I believed my life was a perfect dream. But my application was rejected. The manager informed me that according to the official birth certificates, I wasn't their legal mother. Their mother was Iliana Dudley—my husband’s first love. I raced to his office, only to overhear the devastating truth from behind his door. My entire marriage was a sham. I was chosen because I resembled Iliana, hired as a surrogate to carry her biological children. For six years, I had been nothing more than a free nanny and a "comfortable placeholder" until she decided to return. That night, my children saw my heartbroken state and their faces twisted in disgust. "You look awful," my daughter sneered, before giving me a shove. I tumbled down the stairs, my head cracking against the post. As I lay there bleeding, they simply laughed. My husband walked in with Iliana, glanced at me on the floor, and then promised to take the kids for ice cream with their "real mom." "I wish Iliana was our real mom," my daughter said loudly as they left. Lying alone in a pool of my own blood, I finally understood. The six years of love I had poured into this family meant nothing to them. Fine. Their wish was granted.

"You will be declared dead, Gregoria." That's what Agent Christian told me. My life as an FBI agent was about to end, replaced by a ghost. No contact with my past, not even my husband, Darwin. But then, a week before my staged death, I walked into our home office and saw it: Darwin's laptop, open, displaying a live video feed. My husband, shirtless, with his assistant, Elyssa Daniel. They were kissing. My world tilted. I watched, frozen, as he kissed her. The sounds they made were obscene. I recognized the unique lines of his body, the watch I gave him for our anniversary. I stumbled back, my hand shaking as I reached for my phone. I had to confront this nightmare. I hit the call button. On the screen, Darwin froze, then answered my call. "Hey, honey. What's up?" His voice, so normal, so full of lies, broke something inside me. The phone slipped from my grasp. My heart, my love, my entire world had been a lie. I spent the night on the office floor, replaying the video. The evidence of his betrayal was a digital tombstone for our marriage. Each time I watched, disgust and pain grew. I looked at my wedding ring, a mark of my foolishness, and threw it across the room. He thought I was weak, predictable. He thought I loved him so much I'd believe the sky was green. But the woman who loved Darwin Mcintosh died on that office floor. And in that moment, my mission, my fake death, felt like an escape.

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.

The day I was released from prison, my fiancé, Don Ford, was waiting for me, promising our life would finally begin. Seven years ago, he and my parents begged me to take the fall for a crime my adopted sister, Kelsey, committed. She got behind the wheel drunk, hit someone, and fled the scene. They said Kelsey was too fragile for prison. They called my seven-year sentence a small sacrifice. But as soon as we arrived at the family mansion, Don’s phone rang. Kelsey was having another one of her “episodes,” and he left me standing alone in the grand foyer to rush to her side. The butler then informed me I was to stay in the dusty storage room on the third floor. My parents’ orders. They didn't want me upsetting Kelsey when she returned. It was always Kelsey. She was the reason they took my college scholarship fund, and she was the reason I lost seven years of my life. I was their biological daughter, but I was just a tool to be used and discarded. That night, alone in that cramped room, a cheap phone a prison guard gave me buzzed with an email. It was a job offer for a classified position I had applied for eight years ago. It came with a new identity and an immediate relocation package. A way out. I typed my reply with shaking fingers. "I accept."

For five years, I was the perfect husband to my wife, Jorja. I was the man who supposedly healed her broken heart after her first love, Cale, left her. Now Cale was back, and she insisted we all have dinner together. Suddenly, a fight broke out at the next table. A man flung a bowl of steaming hot soup, and it flew directly towards us. In that split second, I watched my wife lunge. Not towards me, but towards Cale, shielding him with her own body. The scalding liquid hit my arm and chest, the pain searing through me. While I gasped in agony, Jorja fussed over a tiny splash on Cale's hand. "We need to go to the emergency room right now!" she cried, rushing him out the door. She paused only to look back at me. "I'm so sorry," she said. "You can take a taxi to the hospital, right?" After five years of selfless care, of giving up my art scholarship to Paris to be her live-in cure, I was abandoned, covered in second-degree burns. As I sat alone in the ER, an email arrived. My scholarship had been reinstated. That night, I didn't go back to her house. I went to start the life she had stolen from me.

I was at my wedding rehearsal, standing at the altar across from my fiancé, Holden. Our marriage was meant to be the event of the season, a perfect union of two prominent families. Then, his future sister-in-law, Jaidyn, crumpled to the floor. Without a single glance my way, Holden vaulted over a row of chairs, scooped her into his arms, and sprinted out of the hall, leaving me alone and publicly humiliated. Hours later, his voicemail finally came. His voice was thick with emotion, but not for me. He told me Jaidyn has a secret heart condition and has been secretly in love with him for ten years. He said the stress of our wedding was too much for her, and then asked if I could be like a sister to her once we were married. A text followed moments later: "Postponing the wedding. Jaidyn needs me at the hospital." He expected tears. He expected me to wait patiently, to graciously accept being sidelined for his secret admirer. He mistook my love for weakness. But I am Eloise Bowers. My dignity is not something to be discarded. I scrolled past his name and called his older brother, Alphons—the man Jaidyn was supposedly engaged to. "Your brother's wedding is off," I told him, my voice steady and clear. "But the bride is still a Callahan. I'm at the city hall courthouse. You have thirty minutes."