Reborn To Escape His Toxic Love
Erich died in a freezing cabin, abandoned by the powerful Hollywood actor who had kept him as an abused, captive pet.
But instead of finding peace, his eyes snapped open in a rundown bedroom. He had been reborn into the body of a suicidal stranger.
The original owner, who shared his exact name, had swallowed a bottle of pills after being framed for plagiarism and destroyed by cyberbullying.
Now, his new family was drowning in medical debt and facing foreclosure.
Meanwhile, Erich was still paralyzed by the severe PTSD of his past life, suffocating at the mere memory of his ex's footsteps.
Desperate to shed his trauma, he went to a barbershop to cut off the greasy hair hiding his new face.
But when the barber removed the cape, a wave of pure, unadulterated terror crashed over Erich.
Staring back in the mirror was his exact original face, complete with his signature teardrop mole.
He knew if his psychopathic ex saw this face, the man would tear the world apart to drag him back to his personal hell in Malibu.
But Erich refused to be a victim again. He grabbed a flyer for a prestigious art competition and looked at his stunned new sister.
"I'm going to New York."
This time, he wouldn't hide. He was going to use his art to save this broken family and declare war on everyone who had ruined them.
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Chapter 6
Erich walked down the stairs, using the towel to dry the back of his neck. The smell of burnt toast and cheap, acidic coffee filled the hallway.
He stepped into the kitchen.
Brenda was leaning over the small dining table, both hands planted flat on the surface. She was staring at a crumpled, brightly colored flyer for the New York Youth Art Grand Prix. Her entire body was vibrating with nervous energy.
When Erich entered, she snapped her head up.
"Is it true?" she asked, her voice breathless. "Keyla said you want to go to New York."
Erich pulled out a wobbly wooden chair and sat down. He reached across the table, grabbed a piece of blackened toast, and took a bite. The dry, burnt taste grounded him.
He nodded once.
Brenda let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. She pressed her hands to her face. "Thank God. Oh, thank God. You're finally coming back to us."
Keyla was leaning against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed defensively. She let out a loud, mocking snort.
"Yeah, great miracle," Keyla sneered. "But how are we paying for this? Bus tickets to New York, a hotel room, food? We don't have a dime, Mom."
Brenda's joyful expression shattered. The harsh reality of their poverty crashed down on her. She nervously wiped her hands on her apron.
"I... I can ask the bank for an overdraft," Brenda stammered, her eyes darting around the room. "Or I can take my grandmother's necklace to the pawnshop downtown."
Erich stopped chewing. He swallowed the dry toast. A surge of disgust hit him-not at Brenda, but at the situation. He refused to let this woman sell her dignity for him.
He reached across the table and tapped his finger sharply against the flyer. "The grand prize is fifty thousand dollars," Erich said, his voice cutting through her panic. "That would stop the foreclosure and cover your medical bills. It's an investment, not a vacation."
He looked at Keyla. Beneath her sarcastic armor, he saw the subtle way her eyes kept darting to the New York flyer. She wanted to go.
Erich set his toast down. He looked directly at Keyla.
"You're coming with me," he said flatly.
Keyla jumped, her elbow knocking into the toaster. "What? Why me?"
"I haven't left the house in six months," Erich lied smoothly, weaponizing the original host's social anxiety. "I can't handle crowds. I need someone to manage the logistics and keep people away from me."
It was the perfect excuse. It was bulletproof.
Brenda's eyes lit up. She spun toward Keyla, grabbing her daughter's arm. "Keyla, please. It's a great opportunity for you to see the city. And I'd feel so much better knowing you're watching him."
Keyla groaned loudly, dragging her hands down her face. "Mom, I have shifts at the diner! I have midterms! I can't babysit a grown man!"
Erich reached into the pocket of his sweatpants. He pulled out two crumpled twenty-dollar bills-the last of the original Erich's money. He smoothed out and slid them across the table toward Keyla.
"Advance payment for the tour guide," Erich said, his voice dropping into a low, authoritative register. "I'll make the rest of the money when I sell my painting."
Keyla stared at the money, then looked up at Erich. The sheer, unshakeable confidence radiating from him made her skin prickle. This wasn't the brother who used to cry in his closet.
She reached out and pushed the money back toward him.
"Keep your garbage money," she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly. "But I get the bed by the window in the hotel."
Erich's lips twitched into a microscopic smirk. He had her.
Brenda clapped her hands together. "Okay! I'll figure out the bus tickets. Keyla, start looking up cheap motels in Brooklyn."
Keyla rolled her eyes, but she immediately pulled her phone out of her pocket and started typing rapidly.
Erich watched her thumbs fly across the screen. A strange sense of warmth spread through his chest. It was the feeling of a team. A family. Erik Patton had isolated him from everyone, convincing him he was worthless. Here, he was the center of gravity.
He stood up and carried his plate to the sink.
"Make sure you book my haircut for three o'clock," he said over his shoulder.
The rapid tapping on Keyla's phone stopped instantly. The kitchen went dead silent.
"You're actually going through with it?" Keyla asked, her voice laced with genuine shock.
Erich turned on the faucet to wash his hands. "I can't go to New York looking like a homeless drug addict."
Keyla didn't argue. She tapped her screen a few more times. "Three o'clock. Old Joe's Barbershop on Main Street."
Erich dried his hands and walked out of the kitchen. He could feel their eyes burning into his back. The first piece of his armor was about to be stripped away.
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7.2
Clare Lynch thought she was celebrating her fairy-tale engagement. She happily drank the pink cocktail her best friend, Brianna, handed her.
But the drink was laced with a powerful, burning drug. As Clare's legs gave out, she overheard Brianna whispering outside the door. Her best friend had hired two thugs to assault her on camera and completely ruin her life.
Terrified and gasping for air, Clare hid in the VIP room and called her fiancé, Jaren, for help.
"I feel sick. Something is wrong. Please come get me."
But Jaren just sighed impatiently, busy comforting his mistress in the background.
"Stop throwing tantrums for attention. Grow up."
Jaren hung up the phone. When Clare finally escaped and begged her grandmother to cancel the wedding, the matriarch coldly refused. She told Clare that marriage was just a business transaction, and she had to endure Jaren's cheating because their family needed the Bolton's money.
Betrayed by her best friend, abandoned by her fiancé, and sold out by her own blood. Clare's world completely collapsed. She was nothing but a bargaining chip, thrown to the monsters by the people she loved most. The sheer injustice of it burned her soul to ash.
With her last ounce of strength, Clare made a desperate choice. She called Aurthur Bolton—Jaren's ruthless, terrifying uncle. When the most dangerous man in New York kicked down the door to save her, Clare made a silent vow. She was done playing the perfect victim. She would let the devil claim her, as long as he helped her burn her abusers to the ground.
9.1
Leo Vance builds things that last. Bridges. Buildings. A quiet, unspoken life with the woman he loves. What he has never been able to build is the courage to name what they are.
On the morning of his wedding to botanical illustrator Elara Ashford, Leo stands in a chapel in a suit he cannot bring himself to fully button, and realizes something that stops him cold - he has already been married to her. Not in any courtroom or ceremony, but in every moment that actually counted. The night she held his hand at his mother's funeral and said nothing, because nothing was the right thing to say. The years they ate ramen so he could chase a dream she believed in before he did. The night she stood in the doorway during their worst fight and looked him in the eye and refused to let him run.
He has said I do a thousand times in a thousand unspoken ways.
So why does saying it out loud feel like the beginning of the end?
What Leo doesn't know is that Elara has been sitting with her own impossible question for three weeks - ever since she found a note in his jacket pocket that made her wonder whether the man she is about to marry proposed because he chose her, or because someone told him he was about to lose her.
What neither of them knows is that the woman he was secretly engaged to four years ago just walked into the venue. His best man is in love with his bride. His estranged father is standing outside in a rented suit, unable to go in. And the wedding videographer has been filming everything - with two cameras.
By the time the officiant asks who gives this woman, nothing about this wedding will have gone according to the blueprint.
But then again, the most important things Leo has ever built never did.
Every Vow But One is a lux serialized romance about the terrifying distance between loving someone completely and choosing them on purpose and what it can cost when you finally close the gap.
9.6
She was sold as a broodmare. He was a warrior with no memory. Together, they'll burn down the world.
Lyra has been called many things: half-blood, mongrel, dirty blood. Rejected by every pack she's approached, she's given one final chance-as a bride to Ronan, the cruel Alpha of Red River Pack. But when her wedding night becomes a nightmare, she stabs her new husband and flees into the frozen wilderness.
Stellan remembers nothing. Not his name, not his past, not the ancient tattoos covering his body. He only knows that when he sees a terrified woman falling from a cliff into an icy river, he must save her-even if it kills him.
On the run from a vengeful Alpha and his army of hunters, Lyra and Stellan discover an impossible bond growing between them. The moon has chosen them as mates. But Stellan's memories are returning, and with them, a devastating truth: he's not just any wolf. He's the Alpha of the North Star Pack. And a half-blood can never be his Luna.
Now Ronan's brother has sworn revenge, an ancient prophecy awakens, and three packs prepare for war. Lyra must prove that bloodlines mean nothing-and that the most powerful bond of all is forged in ice and fire.
He lost his memory. She lost her freedom. Together, they'll find everything.
9.2
On New Year's Eve, when the city is noisy with excitement and hope, Aria Moretti merely wants to hide.
Instead, she finds a dying guy in an alley-bleeding, dangerous, and inexplicably quiet.
Dante Russo is not a stranger fate intended her to save. He is a man made by violence, linked by blood oaths and secrets that may kill her. Helping him means crossing a line she can never uncross. Letting him go means surviving... but losing something she never knew she wanted.
As love burns in the shadows and danger follows them through locked doors and whispered threats, Aria must decide how much of herself she is willing to risk for a man who lives in darkness.
Because loving Dante doesn't only mean heartbreak.
It signifies blood. It signifies battle. And it implies that after midnight passes, there is no turning back.
8.9
PROFESSOR SIN
8.9
"Spread your legs and use your hands, my little dove," his voice was rough, a dark whisper that curled into my skin. My body trembled, traitorous, yet I obeyed..because I never resisted him. I couldn't. Even when his words bound me tighter than any rope, even when shame burned my cheeks, my fingers still moved at his command.
I'm Amara Blake. At home, I'm nothing.
The unwanted daughter.
The mistake forced to live in her sister's shadow. A living Donor. A spare part to my sister. Scorned by my mother, hated by my father, reminded daily that my only worth is keeping myself "pure" for Nina's sake.
But with him... purity doesn't exist.
Professor Black doesn't see me as a burden.
He sees me as temptation.
A secret waiting to be ruined.
Every time I walk into his office, I feel the weight of his gaze...hungry, dangerous, claiming. I shouldn't want him. I shouldn't crave the way his voice curls against my skin like a promise of sin.
But I do.
And when his hands finally touch me, I realize one truth...I'm no angel.
I was made to burn. MY PROFESSOR SIN
7.3
Louisa Vale's life was shattered when her best friend betrayed her and the man she loved did nothing to stop it. Humiliated and alone, she vows to rebuild her life and never let anyone hurt her again.
Then Keon Ashford enters her world. Confident, powerful, and relentless, he challenges everything Louisa believes about trust and love. Despite her anger and desire for revenge, she cannot ignore the pull between them.
Louisa wants to protect her heart, yet desire and unresolved anger are harder to ignore than she imagined. Can she survive betrayal and find love again, or will regret follow her forever?