
Forever Yours, Almost. Whitmere Family Legacy Book 1
7.7 / 10.0
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A Whitmere Family Romance
Ten years ago, Sloane Hart ran from the only man she ever loved.
Not because she stopped loving him-
but because loving Rhett Whitmere meant risking everything.
Now she's back in Whitmere County, standing inside the luxury hotel he built from heartbreak, legacy, and a love he never let go of. Rhett is no longer the boy she left behind. He's a powerful CEO bound by family expectation, haunted by the past, and still hopelessly in love with the woman who shattered him.
Sloane only planned to stay long enough to complete a high-profile spa expansion.
She never planned to fall for him again.
But in a town that remembers everything, whispers turn into scandals, and old wounds reopen fast. When a dangerous betrayal threatens Rhett's empire and puts Sloane at the center of a storm, they're forced to face the truth they've both been avoiding:
Some loves don't fade.
They wait.
And this time, Rhett Whitmere isn't willing to lose her again.
Forever Yours, Almost is a slow-burn, second-chance romance filled with family legacy, small-town secrets, emotional tension, and a love worth fighting for
Forever Yours, Almost. Whitmere Family Legacy Book 1 Chapter 1
Chapter One - The One I Left Behind
SLOANE
The first thing I see when I pull up at The Whitmere Hotel is his truck. White. Lifted. Massive Tires. Every accessory he could buy in the state of Oklahoma. And who could miss that custom front bumper with the Whitmere family brand right on the front? Parked front and center crooked like it owns the place.
Just like him.
My pulse stutters, the breath rushing from my chest. How will this ever work? I learned a long time ago that wanting something doesn’t make it safe to choose. I can’t do this- even after ten years of telling myself I’m over Rhett Whitmere.
I’m over him, I remind myself.
I’m over him in the way his name still feels like a bruise- one I press just to see if it hurts. It does.
Of course it does.
Sitting in my rental I’m just reflecting back on my drive into Whitmere county, as I marvel at this place. In the morning sun I passed the plains of Oklahoma after leaving the City- there were sprawling ranches and farms before pulling into my hometown. The place I vowed to never return. The town square hadn’t really changed, I noticed as I pulled through. It featured everything that showed the Whitemeres’ owned this county. Each side of the street was aligned with perfectly manicured brick storefronts- and sidewalks, flower beds that look strategically planned, beautifully decorated store windows displaying their offerings, flyers of local events plastered at each store, and people strewn about doing shopping before heading to their sprawling ranches, headed into the diner, or to dinner at the steakhouse, or a even for a drink at the downtown bar. What hadn’t changed was the gossip and glances directed toward me. Even through these rental car windows- their stares, and I know the comments were lingering in the air heavier than the humidity.
Thank God I made it through the town square when everyone was out and about- I thought to myself. I’d hate for the gossip to travel slowly. As I look out my window at the massive hotel grounds, it's beautiful. It’s a sprawling hotel. And that’s what breaks me- because it’s everything we once dreamed in quiet margins.
On the outside, it’s tan stucco with a copper roof that glints in the sunlight. I can see several peaks in the roof which probably house ballrooms or something just as grand- huge terraces are on either side on the first and second floors, with a huge covered front terrace with sitting areas and fire pits. The lawn is perfectly manicured with bushes, shrubs, and trees scattered throughout with multiple beautiful flower gardens. Behind the hotel I can see he’s built his own magnolia grove. In the distance beyond the hotel I can see a pond and walking paths. And on top of the hill- the Whitmere Estate. A mansion I thought I’d never see again.
You did it, Rhett, I think- knowing he did it for a future I was supposed to stand inside.
I pull down the mirror to check my appearance, adjust my sunglasses and still my breath. “You’ve got this Sloane. It’s been 10 years. He no longer matters to you, and you definitely don’t matter to him. I grab my purse and briefcase beside me and open the door to my dark gray airport- rented Toyota Camry. I told sweet little old lady that looked just like Mrs. Clause I wanted to blend in with everyone in a small Oklahoma town- and she pulled it off perfectly even though it’s closer to dusk, and I really don’t need these sunglasses I try to convince myself there’s nothing left here to hide from.
With that self pep talk- I move from the car, parked correctly, I might add. And move along the walking path in the perfectly manicured lawn and head into the entrance to The Whitmere Hotel.
I set my briefcase down on the beautiful marble floor as I pulled my sunglasses off. This place is absolutely magnificent. The photos and blueplans provided in the business proposal snagged by my firm just didn’t do it any justice.
As I soak in every detail it’s all there- things that were just a feverdream for two kids are staring at me in the most beautiful hotel I’ve ever seen. It’s proof I never really left at all.
As I’m breathless looking at the hotel- I feel him. That’s the thing no one tells you about first loves. You don’t just remember them. You sense them.
“Sloane.”
I turn to face the person who I destroyed and the person who destroyed me- the man forged from a boy I broke- Rhett Whitmere. He stood with his arms crossed observing me near an elevator. His brown eyes looked straight through me. His voice is deeper now too, Rougher. Like time sharpened it. He has stubble already from his morning shave but he looks the part as I knew he would- in a perfect fitting navy suit with the top 2 white buttons of his white shirt open. The thing that set Rhett apart from the business men I was used to dealing with- those custom cowboy boots that must have cost a fortune. Rhett’s brown hair was clean cut and well styled but you could see a slight curl too it still, like he had run his hands through it all afternoon. And the smell- like spiced whiskey and amber. One I couldn’t forget if I tried.
“Rhett” I say as loud as I can possibly muster which is just over a whisper at this point.
“Well,” he drawls. “You came back.” I lift my chin. “Looks like it.” His jaw tightens- not with anger.
With restraint. And that’s way worse.
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Forever Yours, Almost. Whitmere Family Legacy Book 1 of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 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.

7.8
Alayna was working a grueling catering shift in worn-out heels to support her broke college boyfriend, Caiden, who claimed to be studying at the library.
But through the crack of a VIP suite door, she saw him wearing a bespoke suit and a Patek Philippe watch, sipping expensive liquor.
"It's a little poverty role-play. Keeps things interesting."
He was laughing with his rich friends, mocking her as his clueless "charity case."
To make matters worse, she was forced into a humiliating mascot costume just in time to watch him passionately kiss his wealthy ex-girlfriend.
That same night, Alayna's mother collapsed with gastric cancer, requiring a half-million-dollar surgery.
When a desperate Alayna begged Caiden for help, he refused.
"Why don't you just apply for Medicaid? That's the path for people like you."
For two years, she had starved herself to buy his textbooks, his tickets, and his shoes.
He had stolen her sweat and her sacrifices, all for a cruel game.
The sheer audacity of his betrayal made her blood run cold.
When a billionaire stranger stepped in to pay her mother's medical bills in exchange for a one-year fake marriage, Alayna didn't hesitate to sign the contract.
She slipped the flawless diamond ring onto her finger, opened a spreadsheet, and sent Caiden an invoice for every single cent.
This time, she was going to dismantle his entire life.

7.2
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.

9.5
My boyfriend, Jefferson, convinced me to give up my Yale scholarship for him. He was my secret, my escape from the shame of my mother's past, and I threw away my future for our love.
Then, at a gala, he publicly announced his engagement to Aubrey Carroll-the girl who made my high school years a living hell.
He trapped me in his mansion, forcing me to become her personal servant. She tortured me daily, culminating in her brutally killing our dog, Charlie, with a garden trowel.
When her friends arrived, they joined in, stripping me half-naked and live-streaming my panic attack for the world to see.
The man who once promised to protect me watched as they destroyed me.
But as I lay bleeding out on the floor, it wasn't an ambulance that arrived. It was the private security of Alexzander Stevens-my estranged, billionaire grandfather.
He revealed I was his sole heiress, and now, we were going to make them pay for every last tear.

9.4
I thought the Burch family gave me a loving home when they took me out of the orphanage.
But when the global deep freeze apocalypse hit, my adoptive parents mercilessly kicked me out of the bunker to freeze to death.
As I lay dying in the snow, covered in horrific purple frostbite, my adoptive sister Kendal walked past me in a pristine designer jacket.
Around her neck was my only childhood possession—an antique gold necklace my adoptive mother had ripped off my neck to give to her.
Kendal gloated, bragging that my pendant held a magical space with infinite supplies and fresh food while the rest of the world starved.
I realized I had spent years emptying my life savings to fund their luxury cars and fake medical emergencies.
They had drained my bank accounts, stolen my bloodline's heirloom, and used my magical lifeline to live like royalty while leaving me to die.
I took my last ragged breath in that blinding blizzard, consumed by a toxic hatred.
Why was I so hopelessly weak? Why did I let them take everything from me?
Opening my eyes again, the painful frostbite scars were gone. My skin was warm.
I grabbed my phone. The screen lit up: November 12.
It was exactly three days before the world ended.
When my adoptive mother called, faking a tearful emergency to demand another thirty thousand dollars, I smiled coldly.
"Just tell me where to send the money, Mom."
This time, I'm taking my space back, and I'm going to drain them dry.

9.0
I died alone in the medical wing giving birth to our son.
"Tell her to calm down and stop the theatrics."
Those were the last words my mate, the Alpha, said about me while I bled out.
Instead of passing on, my soul was tethered to the packhouse. I was forced to watch my best friend Seraphina seamlessly step into my life, taking my baby and my husband before my body was even cold.
To secure her place, she planted my blood-soaked birthing blanket in the woods to frame me for faking my own kidnapping.
Ryker swallowed her lies completely. He refused to send a search party, telling the entire pack my disappearance was just a pathetic plea for attention and money.
As a helpless ghost, I watched Seraphina brainwash my one-year-old son into calling her his mother and teach him to joyfully trample my beloved garden.
"Bad mommy ran away. Don't love Kaelen."
Hearing my own child parrot those venomous words was a dagger to my soul.
Whenever anyone questioned my absence, Ryker fiercely defended her, dismissing the desperate warnings of my loyal friends and his own elders.
The man I loved and died for treated my memory like a malicious joke, grateful for an excuse to replace me while living with my murderer.
But when Seraphina's mask finally slipped, and the horrifying truth of my death crashed down on him, it was far too late.
Seeing him crumble in agonizing regret brought me no comfort.
I no longer wanted his love or his desperate apologies.
Now, I only wanted his absolute ruin.







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