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TheBlues

Marrying her best friend was a dream come true for Kelly, but everything truly has a limitation. Pierce is Kelly’s first love, but as his best friend, she knew well there was always another woman deep in his heart. Lexi Gilbert. The woman Pierce could never forget even if he had already been arranged to marry Kelly. *** Kelly finally realized their happy marriage of the last three years was just a beautiful dream when Pierce asked for a divorce just because Lexi returned. She could only be his best friend even if she was carrying his baby. *** Since their friendship had become a cage, Kelly chose to set him free, as well as the miserable herself. But why then, it was Pierce who became the one who refused to move on? To make matters worse, her devil stepbrother also domineeringly stepped in at the same time, asking her to be his. *** Her Prince Charming vs. Her Devil Stepbrother? How could Kelly save her heart in this battle of love and hate?

EliJa

Mature content "Open your legs, princess." "Why?" "Because I'm going to eat this pussy until you're crying and begging me to fuck you." She shivered. "And then?" "Then I'll flip you over, slide my cock in, and ruin you until you're dripping down your thighs and moaning my name like a prayer." Violet never imagined she'd become nothing more than a substitute in her four-year relationship. But ever since his childhood sweetheart returned, she's been the second choice. The final blow was when two of them fell into the pool, he didn't hesitate, he saved her instead. Left to drown, Violet was pulled from the water by a mysterious stranger, who now wants nothing more than to have her in his bed. Too bad that stranger turns out to be her boyfriend's father, Hades Sinclair.

Dorine Koestler

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.