A Second Chance With Mr. Blackwood
7.2 / 10.0
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In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled.
Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault.
For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice.
"Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get."
She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me.
In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed.
My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end.
As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was.
I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart.
Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs.
I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell.
This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
A Second Chance With Mr. Blackwood Chapter 1
The heat blistered her skin.
Giovanna felt the skin on her arms peeling back, the raw flesh exposed to the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse. Thick, black smoke coated her throat. She couldn't breathe. Her lungs screamed, burning from the inside out.
"He's dead, Gio." Elara's voice echoed through the crackling fire, dripping with pure malice. "Damien died because of you."
A massive explosion shattered the air. Giovanna's heart seized. A violent spasm ripped through her chest, tearing her consciousness to shreds.
Then, a rush of freezing air punched into her lungs.
Giovanna's eyes snapped open. She gasped, her chest heaving as she coughed violently. She thrashed her arms out, fighting off the invisible flames, but her hands didn't hit burning wood.
Her fingers tangled in cold, smooth silk.
The suffocating stench of smoke was gone. Instead, the crisp, clean scent of cedar and sharp mint filled her nose. It was a scent permanently etched into her brain. Damien's scent.
Her vision blurred, then slowly focused. Above her wasn't a collapsing, charred ceiling, but a massive, multi-million-dollar crystal chandelier.
A tall, broad shadow eclipsed the moonlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Damien Blackwood stood beside the bed. He looked down at her. His dark eyes were a storm of sick obsession and tightly leashed fury. His jaw was locked so tight the muscle ticked under his skin.
"How long are you going to fake passing out to avoid our wedding night?" His voice was a harsh, gravelly rasp. It held no warmth, only ice.
Giovanna's pupils dilated. The sound of his voice-alive, deep, vibrating in the quiet room-hit her like a physical blow. Tears instantly flooded her eyes, spilling hot and fast down her cheeks.
She ignored the venom in his words. Her eyes locked onto his face. It was flawless. Young. Handsome. There were no burn scars. No blood.
She whipped her head to the side. The vintage digital clock on the nightstand glowed with the date.
Seven years ago.
The night he had forced the consummation of their marriage. The night before everything went to hell.
Damien saw her tears. His chest stopped moving. A flash of raw, unfiltered pain cracked through his cold facade, quickly swallowed by a surge of dark violence. He thought she was crying out of pure disgust for him.
He let out a low, bitter laugh. He took a half-step back, his body turning toward the door. He was going to walk away. Just like he did in her past life.
Panic seized Giovanna's throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She threw the silk blanket off and swung her bare feet onto the cold floor.
She tried to stand, but the sheer, overwhelming shock of rebirth and seeing him alive finally crashed down upon her. A violent wave of dizziness washed over her brain, and her legs gave out. She pitched forward, falling straight toward the hardwood floor.
Damien's instincts overrode his anger. He moved faster than thought. His large hands shot out, catching her upper arms in a vice grip before her knees could hit the ground.
Giovanna didn't try to stand up. She used his momentum, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face into his broad, solid chest.
Damien froze. Every single muscle in his body turned to stone. His hands hovered in the empty air behind her back, terrified to touch her.
Giovanna inhaled deeply, greedily sucking in the scent of him. He was warm. He was breathing. Her tears soaked right through the thin fabric of his custom-tailored dress shirt, burning against his skin.
Damien's brain short-circuited. His breathing turned shallow. The extreme paranoia that kept him alive screamed at him. This was a trick. She was faking it. She wanted him to drop his guard so she could run.
He grabbed her forearms, his grip bruising. He tried to peel her off his body, forcing her to look at him.
Giovanna refused to let go. She tightened her hold, rising onto her tiptoes, pressing her body flush against his.
"D," she whispered. Her voice was broken, thick with tears, but incredibly soft. "Don't push me away."
Damien's pupils blew wide. The nickname hit him like a bullet to the chest. She had never called him that. Never.
Giovanna tilted her head back. She closed her eyes, her eyelashes wet and trembling. She pressed her soft, parted lips directly against his hard, thin mouth.
The last thread of Damien's control snapped.
He didn't just accept the kiss; he devoured it. His large hands slammed into her back, crushing her against him. He took over, his mouth slanting over hers with a desperate, punishing heat.
As his tongue swept into her mouth, stealing her breath, Giovanna made a silent vow. She would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
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A Second Chance With Mr. Blackwood of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6Chapter 7 Ch. 7Chapter 8 Ch. 8Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.
7.9
Allyson was the most hated actress in Hollywood, forced to wear a cheap, tearing gown after America's sweetheart, Joanne, stole her S-tier role.
During a red carpet disaster, Allyson tripped and fell—straight into the arms of the untouchable megastar, Byron Estes.
The internet exploded, accusing Allyson of faking the fall to seduce him. Drowning in bad press and desperate to pay her agency's termination fee, she signed a reality TV contract. She was forced to play the desperate, clingy villain, acting as a pathetic stepping stone for Joanne and Byron's highly anticipated on-screen romance.
"You could throw yourself at Byron a hundred times, and you'd still never make it into his bed," Joanne mocked.
What Joanne and the furious public didn't know was that three years ago, when Byron was in a horrific crash, Joanne had abandoned him. It was Allyson who stayed.
Even more absurd? Allyson and Byron were actually secretly married, bound by a multi-million dollar NDA.
Determined to play her villainous role and get paid, Allyson memorized a book of cringe-inducing pickup lines, ready to disgust her secret husband on live television.
"The stars are in the sky. But you... are in my heart."
She expected the ice-cold superstar to push her away in disgust. Instead, when another male guest got too close to her, Byron completely shattered his untouchable facade, his eyes burning with a lethal, undeniable possessiveness that sent the internet into absolute chaos.
7.1
The last thing I remembered was the blinding flash of my starship crashing. But instead of a rescue crew, I woke up tied to a wooden post, surrounded by hostile beastmen.
My universal translator kicked in just in time to hear their priestess, Chelsea, declare that I was a cursed demon who ruined their hunt. To save the clan from winter starvation, I was to be burned alive.
The flames were already blistering my legs, and jagged stones hurled by the crowd gashed my forehead. I barely negotiated a three-day reprieve to find them food, venturing into the deadly primeval forest.
I found a massive supply of wild potatoes and even gained the protection of Bronson, a terrifyingly powerful saber-toothed tiger beastman.
But Chelsea wouldn't stop.
She labeled my food as poisonous, tried to sentence me to starve in a penitent's cave, and when my agricultural knowledge proved her wrong, she invoked an ancient law. She incited the tribe's savage warriors to fight over me, turning me into breeding property.
I was a scientist offering them endless food, yet their primitive ignorance and one woman's vicious jealousy kept pushing me toward a brutal end. I was terrified, completely powerless against their monstrous physical strength.
As five ruthless challengers drew their bone axes to claim me, I begged Bronson to leave me and run.
Instead, he pulled me against his scarred chest and kissed me fiercely in front of the entire clan.
"She is my mate," he roared, unleashing a soul-crushing aura. "Anyone who wants her, come at me together."
7.4
Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund.
While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin.
They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever.
"Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered.
Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother.
For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog.
Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her?
She refused to be their victim anymore.
Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield.
Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck.
At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn.
8.8
Clara supported her boyfriend Leo for four years, paying his rent and buying his headshots while working dead-end extra gigs.
On his twenty-sixth birthday, she caught him in their bed with Veronica, a wealthy producer's daughter who constantly stole Clara's roles.
Leo mocked Clara as a "pathetic, poor stepping stone" who was just there until he got his foot in the door.
Veronica threatened to ruin Clara's career forever.
Clara dumped him, packed her bags, and impulsively entered a contract marriage with a cold stranger she met at City Hall.
But her nightmare wasn't over.
When her mother suddenly needed a $200,000 emergency brain surgery, Clara was forced to take a demeaning extra gig to survive.
There, Veronica and her starlet friend cornered Clara.
They mocked her cheap clothes, ridiculed her new wedding ring as fake glass, and intentionally poured scalding coffee on her feet.
"Well, maid, you better clean that up."
Veronica laughed, forcing Clara to her knees to wipe up the burning liquid while snapping photos.
Clara swallowed her burning humiliation, secretly recording their abuse on her phone.
She endured the pain, desperate for the $300 day rate to save her mother's life, feeling entirely crushed by their overwhelming wealth and power.
What she didn't know was that outside the soundstage, her new contract husband—the man she thought was just a struggling, broke tech worker—was sitting in a sleek black Maybach.
He watched his wife kneeling on the floor, and his dark eyes filled with a lethal, terrifying rage.
7.9
In my past life, I was the naive surrogate who fell desperately in love with Karson King, an untouchable Wall Street billionaire.
I thought my blind devotion would earn me a place in his family. Instead, his cruel mother forced me to sign away my parental rights to my three-year-old daughter.
I was locked in a dark, freezing basement. I watched helplessly as his arrogant relatives tormented my child, pushing her down a flight of marble stairs and shattering her tiny arm.
When we finally died in a horrific car crash, my face covered in blood amidst the shattered glass, Karson didn't shed a single tear. To him, my death was just the convenient erasure of a cheap mistake.
I sacrificed my dignity for his approval, but they treated us worse than stray dogs. Why did my innocent daughter have to pay the ultimate price for their ruthless arrogance?
Opening my eyes again, the harsh glare of a massive crystal chandelier pierced my vision. I was back in the grand foyer of the King estate, exactly five years ago.
"Sign it. You are nothing but a gold digger."
My soon-to-be mother-in-law slammed the thick legal contract onto the marble table, demanding I give up my daughter.
This time, the paralyzing fear evaporated, replaced by absolute, icy clarity.
I didn't cower. I picked up the pen, looked right at the billionaire who despised me, and prepared to manipulate his entire empire.
