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The graphite tip of my pencil snapped against the paper, a sharp *crack* that echoed in the vaulted silence of the penthouse. I didn't curse. I just stared at the notation I’d made—a complex sequence of pirouettes that would soon torture the principal dancers of *Dance Rivals*. To the world, these scribbles belonged to "S," the phantom choreographer reshaping modern ballet. To me, they were just another Tuesday morning. "Mama, look! Like a swan!" Willa spun across the polished oak floor of my private studio, her arms undulating with a grace that wasn't taught, but inherited. Seven years old, and she already possessed the arch and extension I hadn't developed until I was ten. "Beautiful, my love," I said, my voice soft. I sealed the choreography inside a plain manila envelope.

Power is everything, and in my world, I am the law. As the leader of the Zetas Clan, there is nothing I can’t have… until a paramedic dares to challenge my rules. She should have begged for her life when they brought her to my house. Instead, she looked at me with a mix of contempt and defiance, as if I weren’t the most dangerous man in Phoenix. As if I couldn’t destroy her with the snap of my fingers. Brave, beautiful, and with a damn attitude that irritates me as much as it attracts me. I should get rid of her. But instead, I’ve decided to keep her. She doesn’t know it yet… but from the moment she pointed that gun at me, she became mine. Content Warning This story is intended for mature audiences (18+). It contains dark themes, violence, explicit content, and morally complex characters. Reader discretion is advised.

The knock comes at 9:47 a.m., three minutes after Atticus's car pulls out of the parking garage. I know the timing because I've been standing at the kitchen window with my coffee going cold in my hands, watching the street below like I've been doing every morning for the past two weeks. Watching for something I can't name. Waiting for proof of something I don't want to be true. The deliveryman doesn't wait for a signature. By the time I reach the door, he's already halfway down the hall, and there's a plain brown box sitting on my doormat like an accusation. No return address. No label except my name—Meredith Stone—written in black marker, the letters neat and deliberate. I carry it inside. Set it on the kitchen counter.

The news hit me like a physical blow, knocking the breath from my lungs as I sat in the pack house kitchen, my hands instinctively moving to cradle my swollen belly. Alpha Barnes of the Crescent Pack was dead. James stood frozen in the doorway, the messenger's words still hanging in the air between us. I watched his face transform—the color draining from his cheeks, his jaw clenching so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. His Alpha aura, usually a steady presence I'd grown accustomed to, flickered like a candle in the wind. "James?" My voice came out smaller than I intended, barely a whisper. Our mind-link, already weakened over the past few months, felt like trying to shout across a vast canyon. I reached for him through the bond, but met only cold emptiness. He didn't look at me. Couldn't, it seemed.

On the day I was supposed to marry Giovanni Moretti, he publicly declared I was his brother’s girl. He called off our wedding at the last minute. His ex, Sofia, had amnesia after a car crash, her memory reset to a time when they were still deeply in love. So he cast me aside in my wedding dress to play the part of her devoted boyfriend. For a month, I was forced to live as a "guest" in the Moretti estate, watching him dote on her and rebuild their past, all while promising he would marry me as soon as she recovered. Then I overheard the truth. Giovanni had the cure for her amnesia locked away in his safe. He wasn't trapped. He was indulging, savoring a second chance with the love of his life. He was confident I was his property, that I would simply wait until he was done. He told his men he could have us both. He used his brother's name to humiliate me. Fine. I would use his brother's name to destroy him. I walked into the office of the true power in the family, Don Domenico Moretti. "Your brother said I am your companion," I told him. "Let's make it real. Marry me."

I wake to the sound of my own name being destroyed. Not literally — not at first. At first it's just my phone, buzzing against the mahogany nightstand like something trapped and dying, the screen strobing white in the gray morning light. I reach for it without opening my eyes, muscle memory from a thousand ordinary mornings in this room, in this house, where the crown molding catches the dawn and the smell of my mother's garden still lives in the curtains even though she's been gone six years. Then I see the notifications. Hundreds of them. Thousands. The first headline loads before I understand what I'm reading: *Fallen Heiress or Hidden Addict? Explosive Photos Surface of Judge Greene's Daughter.* Below it, an image I have never seen of a woman who wears my face. My thumb moves on its own, scrolling, and each swipe is a small death.

The lounge smelled like money and bad decisions. Cigar smoke, expensive cologne, the faint sweetness of champagne that cost more per bottle than my weekly paycheck. I moved through it all with a tray balanced on my palm, my heels silent on the marble floor, my smile fixed and practiced and completely hollow. Four years ago, I would have been a guest here. Tonight, I was part of the furniture. I spotted Reed Thompson the moment he walked in. He hadn't changed much. Taller, maybe. Broader in the shoulders. He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost six thousand dollars, and he carried himself like a man who'd never once questioned his right to take up space.

I am Marcus Kelly’s ex-mate, the one nobody in the Silverfang Pack likes to talk about. Back then, I thought having a pup would secure my place as the Luna of the pack, but they quickly deemed me unworthy. As soon as my son, Quinn, was weaned, they cast me out. Two years after the rejection, the monthly stipend Marcus had agreed to provide was nearly depleted. Just as I was wondering how to survive, Axton Grant, the Delta steward of the Kelly family, appeared at my doorstep with Quinn. “Alpha Marcus has been preoccupied with pack affairs and requests that you care for the pup for a while,” he said curtly before leaving us in an awkward silence. “What’s your father up to? We severed the mate bond with the agreement to stay out of each other’s lives,” I remarked, my voice sharp. In a quiet voice, Quinn replied, “Dad might lose his position as Alpha.” I let out a dry laugh. “Lose his position?

I stood center stage in a wedding dress worth more than a small country, waiting for my final fitting. For seven years, I had trained to be the perfect mafia wife for Ethan, the future Don. Then the door slammed open. Ethan’s underboss walked in, hand on his gun, looking at me with zero respect. "The wedding is off," he said. "Ethan had an accident. He lost his memory. He doesn't remember the pact, and he doesn't remember you." Desperate, I drove to his private villa to help him remember. But I didn't find a confused patient. I found Ethan lounging on a sofa with a model on his lap, his hand sliding up her thigh. When he saw me, his eyes weren't blank; they were cold and annoyed. He hadn't lost his memory. He just wanted to void the contract without a war. To get rid of me, he ordered a hit. My car was rammed off a cliff that night. As I hung upside down in the wreckage, bleeding and broken, I heard his voice outside. "Make it look like a drunk driving accident," he told his men. "I don't want any loose ends." He walked away, leaving me to die in the rain. But he made one fatal mistake. He didn't check if my heart had stopped. They buried an empty coffin, and Ava Miller officially died. Two weeks later, a woman named Olivia Carter opened an investment firm across the street from his tower. I remember everything, Ethan. And I’m going to burn your empire to the ground.

I stood by Franco for seven years. I stayed with him from his days as a Brooklyn street enforcer until he became the Underboss of the Moretti family. We promised to marry the day he fully took over the territory. Until last month. I saw Franco tangled up with someone else on the leather sofa of his safe house. He said she was cold like ice and that the other woman knew exactly how to please a man. He pinned her down. I chose to walk away. I heard the rumors later. After I left. Franco lost his mind.

She loved him until she lost herself. Now, behind locked doors and shattered glass, she must learn to breathe again. When she first met Lloyd, he was magnetic and intoxicating. The kind of man who turned every head when he entered a room, who spoke in promises sweet enough to taste. With him, she felt chosen, cherished, and safe. But safety was an illusion, and love became a weapon. And slowly, piece by piece, he dismantled her until nothing of the woman she once was remained. Now institutionalized after a breakdown, she begins to piece together the brutal truth of what really happened in the shadows of their love story. Memories sting like open wounds: the manipulation disguised as tenderness, the apologies that blurred into threats, the desperate hope that tomorrow he'd be the man she fell for again. Yet beneath the grief and the shame, a quiet rebellion stirs, a vow to reclaim her voice, her freedom, and her life. Because this is not just a story of how she fell apart. It is a story of how she rises. Haunting, raw, and achingly intimate, Boys like him peels back the glittering mask of a toxic love affair to reveal the kind of darkness that hides in plain sight, and the unbreakable strength it takes to escape it.

Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster. During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde. When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability. Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair—the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave? Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket. "What are you looking at, Foster?" Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.

"We should start working out together," I said, sliding into the seat across from Beau at our favorite breakfast spot. "For the wedding." Beau looked up from his phone, his dark hair falling over one eye in that way I'd always found irresistible. "Working out?" "Yes! I know neither of us are gym people, but wouldn't it be nice to both look our absolute best for the photos?" I reached into my purse and pulled out two glossy membership cards to Elite Fitness, the upscale gym near our apartment. "Surprise!" I'd spent weeks researching the best gyms in our area, finally settling on Elite for its clean facilities and variety of classes. The memberships weren't cheap, but our wedding was only six months away, and I wanted everything to be perfect. Beau's smile flickered for a moment as he took the card. Something flashed across his face—hesitation? Concern? But it disappeared so quickly I thought I'd imagined it.

Griffin, a successful restaurant owner, and Lina, a talented food critic, never expected their lives to become entangled in such a dramatic way. In order to get their parents off their backs, Griffin and Lina decide to enter a contract marriage. The arrangement seems simple: marry, please their parents, and go their separate ways after a year. *But life is full of ups and downs* When Lina discovers that Griffin owns the restaurant she works at, she's shocked. And when Griffin finds out that Lina was the food critic who gave his restaurant a bad review, he's furious. The tension between them is palpable, and they become enemies. As tho things couldn't get more complicated, Nick enters the picture. Griffin's brother, Nick, is charming and charismatic. Lina finds herself drawn to him, and a love triangle forms. Griffin, however, is starting to develop feelings for Lina, despite their rocky start. But just as he's beginning to open up, his late ex-girlfriend returns, determined to win him back. As the relationships becomes tangled, Lina and Griffin must navigate their feelings, their contract marriage, and the secrets that threaten to tear them apart. Will they find a way to make their marriage work, or will the lies and secrets destroy everything? Will Lina choose between Griffin and Nick? And what will happen when Griffin's ex-girlfriend, Sophia refuses to give up? *Find out in this novel which will keep you at the edge of your seats*

What the fuck—” I started. He looked up at me. His lips were wet, swollen. He licked them slowly, like he was savoring the taste. “Keep your hands where I left them,” he said. My jaw clenched. My knuckles went white against the bedsheets. I didn’t speak. I just watched him. He lowered his mouth again, slower this time. His tongue circled the tip, then slid down the side. I felt every second of it. Every inch. He paused halfway down and looked up at me again. “You like this too much.” My throat tightened. I didn’t answer. “Bet you’ve never let anyone make you beg.” *** Callum Kesington isn’t just a billionaire CEO. He doesn’t believe in love. He believes in control, power, and the silence of secrets buried deep enough to stay dead. But when his estranged brother resurfaces through a cryptic call, dragging him into a trail of files, threats, and old betrayals, everything he's built starts to crack. Remy Beckett, a rising star in the culinary world, is no stranger to heat, just not the kind that follows a glance across a church aisle. A single dinner at Remy’s restaurant ignites an attraction that shakes Callum’s carefully guarded world. He’s never wanted a man before. Never craved the scrape of stubble against his skin or the heat of rough hands pinning him down. But Remy? He’s all Callum can think about. Then the bullet hits. A shadowy attack leaves Remy bleeding in Callum’s arms, and suddenly, this isn’t about desire. It's about survival. Someone wants Remy dead, and Callum’s brother is at the center of it. Now, Callum must confront the ruthless empire he built, the family who betrayed him, and the truth he’s been denying: he’ll burn everything down to keep Remy alive. Even if it destroys them both.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong as I organized our supplies in the rustic lakeside cabin. The wooden floors creaked beneath my feet while I sorted through our weekend provisions, my fingers lingering on the life jackets I'd insisted we bring. Tucker had laughed when I packed them, but living with a permanent leg injury had taught me to be cautious. I absently rubbed my thigh where the old injury ached in the damp air – a souvenir from the last time I'd saved Tucker's life. "Kenna, did you hear what I just said?" Blaire's voice cut through my thoughts, that particular tone she used when she knew I hadn't been listening. She stood by the window, martini in hand, sunlight illuminating her perfect posture. "Sorry, just making sure we have everything," I replied, arranging the last of our food supplies. The cabin was modest by normal standards, though I suspected both Tucker and Blaire considered it 'roughing it.' If only they knew I could have booked us into the Carter family's private island resort instead of this remote spot. Tucker emerged from the bedroom, his phone clutched in his hand like always. "Signal's terrible out here," he complained.

Discarded. Humiliated. Pregnant. Mia Thorne was the Silvermoon Pack’s "embarrassment"—a fated mate abandoned by Alpha Blake Harrison to suffer in sweltering servant quarters while he paraded his mistress, Victoria, across the world. When Blake cruelly rejects her and vows to steal her unborn pups, Mia flees into the night to protect her children alone. Five years later, the "nobody" is gone. Now a world-class architect and the hidden Luna Queen of the legendary Lycan King, James Whitmore, Mia is untouchable. When Blake unknowingly attempts to buy the very penthouse Mia designed, he finds himself face-to-face with the powerful woman he discarded—and the twin heirs he never knew existed.

Anna Hendrick experienced the devastating loss of a pregnancy. Her decade-long devotion to Ethan Smith led her to abandon her university studies in her second year to become his wife. For three years, she dedicated herself to their marriage, working tirelessly. Only the discovery of a clandestine document revealed the painful truth: she was simply a pawn in Ethan's elaborate game with his first love, his cherished Becca Drew. In the sterile confines of a hospital room, after hearing of Ethan's romantic getaway with Becca, Anna initiated divorce proceedings. The formerly underestimated housewife underwent a dramatic metamorphosis. She blossomed into a sought-after designer for a prestigious jewelry house; the exclusive tutor of a globally renowned pianist; a formidable racing champion; the esteemed daughter of the Minister of Foreign Affairs; and the powerful CEO of a publicly traded company valued at billions... As Anna's admirers multiplied, Ethan began to pursue her with persistent and unwanted attention. Exasperated and seeking respite, Anna simply disappeared from his reach.

She survived war.She was betrayed at home.She married the most dangerous man alive. When former Army Captain Ava Blackwood discovers that the man she loved-and secretly built an empire for-has been sleeping with her stepsister, she does not beg, confront, or break down. She walks away. Bound by a ruthless inheritance clause that demands marriage before her twenty-eighth birthday, Ava enters a flash marriage with Lucien Drake-the billionaire CEO she once saved on a classified battlefield mission. What the world doesn't know is that Lucien is not just a businessman. He is the King of the Underworld. As enemies close in and blood debts resurface, Ava returns to the only life she ever trusted-war. But this time, the battlefield is made of boardrooms, crime syndicates, and vows signed in fire.

The pale light of dawn filtered through the curtains as I stood before the mirror, my trembling fingers smoothing down the silver ceremonial gown that hugged my figure. Today was supposed to be the day—our seventh attempt at completing the mating ceremony. Seven years of waiting, of patience, of loving a man who consistently proved I wasn't his priority. "You look beautiful," my wolf, Lyra, whispered in my mind, her voice tinged with a hope I couldn't quite share anymore. "Thank you," I murmured, touching the bare skin of my neck where Ryan's mark should have been years ago. "Grandmother needs to see this happen. I can't fail her." The image of my grandmother in her hospital bed, frail yet smiling as she spoke of her dying wish, made my heart clench. Eleanor Vance, once the most respected Luna of her generation, now clung to life with one final desire—to see me properly mated before she passed. I took a deep breath and left my room, making my way to the ceremonial chamber of the Silver Moon Pack house. Pack members lined the hallways, their expressions a mixture of pity and curiosity.

The guest wing of the Pack House felt like a prison. Four walls of sterile white, a narrow bed with sheets that never quite warmed, and a window that offered the only glimpse of the outside world. I sat curled in the window seat, my fingers tracing the cold glass as I watched the scene below. Graham stood in the garden, his broad shoulders and commanding presence unmistakable even from this distance. He held a bouquet of crimson roses—my favorite, once upon a time. But they weren't for me. "More flowers for your precious Jade," I whispered, my breath fogging the glass. "While I get cold soup and stale bread." My body still ached from the miscarriage. Eight months pregnant one day, empty and bleeding the next. The Pack Healer had said it was a common tragedy, that sometimes pups just didn't survive.

For five years, I was Broadway's golden girl, and my powerful CEO boyfriend, Brennan, was my anchor. Our love felt invincible, a modern fairytale written across city marquees. Then he met Aimee, a struggling musician he claimed saved his life in a car crash. He gave her the vintage guitar he'd promised me. He stole my private journal so she could turn my pain into a hit song, making me a national laughingstock. He even used my dying mother's medical bills to keep me trapped. But the night my mother was dying, the night she needed an emergency helicopter, he diverted it. He sent her only hope to Aimee, who was having a "panic attack." My mother died alone. At her funeral, a reporter asked about his engagement to Aimee. He thought he had broken me, but he had just started a war. He didn't know the separation papers he'd already signed weren't for a payout-they were for a divorce, and I was about to disappear.

WARNING!! FORBIDDEN, DARK ROMANCE!! EXPLICIT SEX SCENES!! Vincenzo's hand trails down to my thigh, lifting it slightly to his hip. "Do you want that?" He asks roughly. "Do you want us?" I stare at him lustfully. My eyes clouded with lust, passion and desire. I'm surrounded. Drenched in lust. Filled with passion and burning fire. Filled with the heat of desire pooling in my stomach. I'm horny as fuck. I should say no. I should. I'm not supposed to be doing this. Not with my stepbrothers. Not with three of them all at once. But what comes out of my mouth is a whisper. "Yes." All three of them groan. "Your wish is our command, my vixen," Riccardo says hoarsely, and I shiver. **** After Elena's mother marries a powerful billionaire, she moves into a lavish estate only to discover that her new stepbrothers are triplets. They're older, hot, intimidating, dangerous, sinfully attractive...and nothing alike when it comes to how they treat her. Her mother says "They're just your brothers now." But they don't look at her like brothers. Not even a tiny bit. Elena never meant to fall for them. But they all seem to want her and won't back down. To make things worse? They're heirs to a Mafia empire. And they've all decided that Elena belongs to them...in very different ways.

BLURB. I try to go back to the memory and see if I could see his face but it just made my headache worse. Fuck, this isn't good, this is not good at all. I lost my virginity to a man that I do not remember. Just listening in, I know that he's not in this room and he's probably long gone. ************** Natalie Nichols lost the only parent that she knew and as if that wasn't enough, she was thrown into a new life with people who were supposed to be her family, but she barely even knew them. A one night stand led to her destruction, her children were taken away from her and she was thought to be dead. But now she's back, more powerful and not the same weak girl as before. Will she be able to get her children back or will she fall in love with the man that got her pregnant in the first place?