The Captain's Cold Aspen Revenge

For seven years, I funded my husband Gonzalo's PhD. I paid for everything. A week after our wedding, his young "mentee," Kloe, moved in with us, claiming a rare autoimmune disorder made her "fragile." On our Aspen ski trip, he used my money to buy her an $8,000 handbag. Then, he demanded I give Kloe my high-performance ski jacket because her flimsy one wasn't warm enough. When I refused, he ripped it off my body. I slipped on the ice, hitting my head as he walked away with her, leaving me injured and freezing in the snow. Later that night, he abandoned me again while I was sick in our hotel room, to get a separate room with Kloe. He said they needed to "discuss his academic paper." But he forgot one crucial detail. I'm not just a wife. I'm Captain Amy Payne, U.S. Army Reserve. I called my best friend, a manager at the hotel chain. "I need a master key," I told her. "We're about to crash a very important academic discussion."

Chapters

Chapter 1

On our Aspen ski trip, he used my money to buy her an $8,000 handbag. Then, he demanded I give Kloe my high-performance ski jacket because her flimsy one wasn't warm enough.

When I refused, he ripped it off my body.

I slipped on the ice, hitting my head as he walked away with her, leaving me injured and freezing in the snow.

Later that night, he abandoned me again while I was sick in our hotel room, to get a separate room with Kloe. He said they needed to "discuss his academic paper."

But he forgot one crucial detail. I'm not just a wife. I'm Captain Amy Payne, U.S. Army Reserve.

I called my best friend, a manager at the hotel chain. "I need a master key," I told her. "We're about to crash a very important academic discussion."

Chapter 1

Amy Payne POV:

My skin felt sticky, my hair clinging to my neck. Sweat beaded on my forehead, trickling down my temples. The air in our apartment was thick, suffocating. It was mid-July in Austin, and the thermostat read 85 degrees Fahrenheit.

I walked to the thermostat, my fingers already slick with sweat. I pushed the 'down' arrow, watching the numbers tick lower, 84, 83, 82. A small sigh of relief escaped my lips. I just needed it below 80 to feel human again.

The click of the door made me jump. Gonzalo.

His voice cut through the humid air, sharp and accusing. "What do you think you're doing, Amy?"

I turned, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow. "It's boiling in here, Gonzalo. I'm just trying to make it bearable."

He strode towards me, his face tight. "You know Kloe has a condition. She's extremely sensitive to cold. You can't just drop the temperature like that."

My jaw clenched. "It's 85 degrees. Nobody should be sensitive to cold at 85 degrees."

He ignored me, his gaze fixed on the thermostat. "Her autoimmune disorder is severe. It's not just about comfort; it's about her health."

"So, my comfort and health don't matter?" I asked, my voice flat.

"She's a guest, Amy. And she's fragile. We need to accommodate her." He reached over me, his hand covering mine on the control panel. He pushed the 'up' arrow. The numbers climbed back to 85.

I pulled my hand away, heat rushing to my face. "Gonzalo, it's ninety degrees outside. I can barely breathe in here."

A soft cough drifted from the hallway. Kloe emerged, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, her eyes wide and innocent. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Is there trouble because of me?" Her voice was a whisper, laced with fake concern.

"No trouble, Kloe," Gonzalo said immediately, his voice softening. "Amy just forgot how delicate you are."

Kloe offered a weak smile. "My condition, you know. The cold just... it sends me into a flare. Gonzalo is always so understanding."

I watched her, a bitter taste in my mouth. She was playing him like a fiddle.

"Maybe if Amy needs it cooler," Kloe suggested, her gaze flitting to me then quickly away, "she could... find another spot?"

My eyes narrowed. "This is my home, Kloe."

Kloe gasped, a hand flying to her chest. Her lower lip trembled. "Oh, I didn't mean... I just thought maybe for your comfort..." She turned to Gonzalo, a silent plea in her eyes. "Gonzalo?"

He put an arm around her, pulling her close. "She has a point, Amy. Kloe needs to be comfortable."

"Our marriage, Gonzalo. We just got married." My voice was a desperate plea.

"Our wedding was last week," I reminded him, the words feeling hollow. "And you're kicking me out of my own living room for your mentee because she's 'fragile'?"

He flinched, his grip on Kloe loosening slightly. "Okay, okay, let's not make a big deal. She's only staying for a little while, Amy. Just until her apartment is ready."

He looked at me, a forced smile on his face. "We can go to that resort you wanted, just the two of us, after she leaves. A real honeymoon."

I looked at him, trying to find an ounce of sincerity. He always knew how to dangle a carrot. "A resort," I repeated, the word tasting like ash.

"You know I'd never lie to you, Amy," he insisted, his eyes meeting mine, for a second.

I took a deep breath, the anger still a hot knot in my stomach. I pushed it down. I always did. "Fine," I said, my voice tight. "I'm going to change." I needed to get out of these damp clothes, away from all of them.

I stood up, needing to get out of these damp clothes. As I turned to walk to our bedroom, Gonzalo cleared his throat.

"There's one more thing, Amy," he said, avoiding my gaze. "Kloe's condition... she really can't be near any drafts. The guest room faces north, it's naturally cooler. So, if you wouldn't mind... staying in the guest room tonight? So she can have the master."

I stopped dead. My blood ran cold, despite the sweltering heat. "And where will you sleep, Gonzalo?"

Kloe spoke up, her voice small, almost childlike. "I get so scared alone, Gonzalo. With my condition, I just... I get so anxious."

Scared? She was practically a grown woman, a "wellness influencer" with thousands of followers. Did she really think I was that stupid?

Gonzalo quickly stammered, "I'll just sleep on the couch, Amy. Don't worry. I'll be right out here."

My chest felt tight, like a fist was squeezing my lungs. I took another deep breath, trying to control the tremor in my voice. "Or," I suggested, my words slow and deliberate, "Kloe could just share the master bedroom with me. Since Gonzalo is a married man, it would be improper for him to sleep anywhere but in our master bedroom."

Kloe gasped, a hand flying to her chest. "Oh, Amy, I couldn't possibly! I wouldn't want to intrude on your space." She shot a quick, nervous glance at Gonzalo. "And my... my condition... it's just so unpredictable. It wouldn't be fair to you."

"Unpredictable," I scoffed softly, the word barely audible. This woman was something else. Part of me, the part that was still trying to be a good wife, wanted to believe Gonzalo was just being naive. But the other part, the Army Captain part, knew a tactical maneuver when she saw one. This wasn't about health; it was about territory.

Continue to next part

‎ ‎ ‎Sophia Hayes has perfected the art of control. In the high-pressure world of The Metropolitan, she's the youngest senior journalist ever hired-an achievement built on ruthless discipline, flawless execution, and a reputation that makes even seasoned reporters double-check their facts before speaking to her. She is sharp. Unshakeable. Precise to the bone. Her life runs on deadlines, color-coded calendars, and emotional walls tall enough to withstand anything. ‎ ‎Dean Mercer is everything she isn't-and everything she doesn't have time for. A wildly successful illustrator whose comic series Love Is a Mess has a cult following online, Dean lives in a world where structure is optional and inspiration is everything. His apartment is chaos. His sleep schedule is chaos. His heart is chaos. He creates brilliance in messy strokes but hides his deepest truths behind humor, charm, and a smile that masks more wounds than he lets on. ‎ ‎So when the magazine pairs them for a high-stakes project-a revolutionary feature blending investigative journalism with illustrated storytelling-everyone expects disaster. Sophia expects worse. ‎ ‎Their assignment: explore modern love through real stories across the city. Raw, unfiltered, unpredictable love. ‎ ‎Exactly the kind of assignment that makes Sophia want to run. ‎ ‎Dean arrives late to their first meeting with coffee stains and excuses. Sophia arrives with a binder thick enough to double as a weapon. Dean studies her timeline like it's written in a foreign language. Sophia studies Dean like he's a problem she needs to solve before he derails everything she's built. ‎ ‎Their partnership begins in sparks-sharp, heated, dangerous sparks. ‎Arguments disguised as discussions. ‎Discussions disguised as power struggles. ‎Power struggles disguised as creative differences. ‎ ‎But tension has a habit of twisting into something else when the nights grow long. ‎ ‎As they dive into the city-interviewing strangers whose love stories survived decades, storms, heartbreaks, second chances-something shifts between them. Slowly. Quietly. Against both of their wills. ‎ ‎Sophia begins to see past Dean's easy humor to the man underneath-the one who fears failing the people he cares about, who draws comics because it's the only way he knows how to tell the truth. And Dean sees the cracks in Sophia's armor-the vulnerability she protects like a secret, the softness she doesn't show, the fire in her that the world misunderstands as coldness. ‎ ‎Their conversations deepen. Their arguments soften. Their laughter blends. ‎And the chemistry-the kind they both pretend not to notice-tightens around them like an invisible thread. ‎ ‎But the closer they get, the heavier the air becomes. Because both of them are hiding something. ‎ ‎Sophia hides her fear of losing control. ‎Dean hides his fear of being the reason someone gets hurt. ‎ ‎And the feature they're creating-meant to uncover the truth about modern love-begins exposing truths they never meant to reveal. About each other. About themselves. ‎ ‎Their late-night work sessions grow intimate, electric. Their stories blur with the stories they're collecting. Dean sketches Sophia without meaning to-capturing expressions she never lets the world see. Sophia writes notes about him she can't bring herself to delete. Something real starts forming in the space between them, fragile but undeniable. ‎ ‎Until the past they both buried finds them. ‎ ‎A mistake from Dean's life-one he thought he'd left behind-reaches the editorial floor at the worst possible time. A detail with enough weight to derail the feature, shatter their progress, and wound the one person who finally saw him clearly. ‎ ‎Sophia's instinct is survival. Run before she gets hurt. Seal her heart before it cracks open. Dean's instinct is retreat. Protect her from the version of himself he fears is still true. ‎ ‎Deadlines tighten. Trust fractures. ‎Their work stalls, their communication splinters, and the connection they've been dancing around threatens to snap under the strain. ‎ ‎But desire doesn't listen to logic. ‎And hearts don't obey deadlines. ‎ ‎Even as they pull away, they keep orbiting each other-drawn back together by an ache neither can extinguish. Their arguments deepen into something rawer, heavier. Their silence holds more meaning than their words. ‎ ‎They must choose: ‎fight for the story that could define their careers... ‎or fight for the connection that could rewrite their futures. ‎ ‎And when an unexpected message, a truth revealed too late, and one irreversible decision collide, they're forced to confront the question their feature was meant to answer: ‎ ‎What does love look like today- ‎and can two people living at opposite rhythms find it before it slips through their fingers? ‎ ‎On the edge of losing their partnership... ‎their second chance... ‎and each other... ‎ ‎

Action Modern Romance

9.1

Bad Boy And Me

9.1

It started with a DM from a guy named Jules. One night on his Yacht. No strings. No promises. Tori thought it was all fun until she caught feelings. What began as a crazy night on his Yacht turned into crazier days... Now she's drowning in a love story that's hotter, messier, and more dangerous than she ever imagined. Because loving Jules comes with one RULE... And love that feels too good never comes without a PRICE...

Action Modern Romance

8.4

Fated By Moonlight

8.4

"I'm not scared of you, Tyler." Erika's voice trembled, not with fear but with the force of instinct, adrenaline, and something deeper. "You should be," Tyler growled, blood staining his knuckles and rage glinting in his eyes. "Because if they touch you again, I won't stop. Not until the ice runs red." Erika stepped forward anyway, chin lifted. "Then let it. Because I'm not leaving you." Even with a target on her back and the league closing in, the omega who once hid behind textbooks now stood toe-to-toe with the alpha the world feared. After a brutal on-ice collision throws omega student Erika into the path of disgraced alpha hockey star Tyler Wood, neither of them expect the fallout to spiral into threats, secrets, and a bond neither can control. As Erika's heat awakens something primal and dangerous Tyler must confront his violent past before those hunting them destroy everything they're fighting for.

Action Romance Werewolf

9.3

Flash Marriage To My Disabled Commander

9.3

Six years ago, my adoptive family framed me for commercial espionage, stripped me of my identity, and threw me out. Now, I finally returned to the Solis estate as a commercial pilot to take back what was mine. But the first thing my adoptive mother did was threaten me with that forged evidence again. She demanded I take my sister Kiana's place in a marriage contract with a disabled man, simply because Kiana refused to marry him. When I refused, Kiana ambushed me at the airport with a mob of reporters. She cried for the cameras, publicly accusing me of causing our father's and brother's deaths. She painted me as a ruthless monster who bankrupted the company and ruined the family. The crowd instantly turned on me, screaming that I was a murderer and a gold-digger. Kiana wanted to completely destroy my reputation so I would have no choice but to submit to her arrangement. I looked at her fake tears, feeling a cold, absolute fury. How dare she use the tragic deaths of the only family members who actually loved me as a prop for her sick show? They had ruined my life once, and now they wanted to bury me alive. I didn't hesitate. I slapped her hard across the face right in front of the flashing cameras. "That was for my father and brother." Then, my real fiancé, a decorated Delta Force commander, rolled through the crowd in his wheelchair. He tossed a classified Pentagon file to the reporters, completely clearing my name and exposing Kiana's lies. I married him to start my revenge, but as I stepped into his heavily secured penthouse that night, I realized my powerful new husband had been preparing for me for a very long time.

Action Modern Romance

9.1

FRACTURED Goodness

9.1

Amélie Rousseau grows up believing that honesty, hard work, and faith will save her from poverty. Paris proves her wrong. Despite her brilliance, every door stays closed-until the day Clara Duval, the woman Amélie once helped, steals her future through lies, favors, and corruption. When Amélie dares to speak up, the system silences her and laughs. That is when Monsieur Lefèvre offers her a way out. Under his guidance, Amélie learns the true language of power-deception, loyalty, and sacrifice. One lie leads to another, and soon she rises in the same world that once rejected her. But Julien Moreau, the man who loves the girl she used to be, watches her change. At the height of her success, Amélie must choose: destroy Julien to protect her empire, or expose the corruption and lose everything. Because in Paris, goodness is not free- and survival always demands a price.

Action Adventure LitRPG

7.8

Married To The Vulture Of Wall Street

7.8

I had exactly forty-five minutes to get married, or I would lose the voting shares needed to stop my father from laundering millions through our family foundation. Everything was riding on this one legal signature at the City Clerk’s office. But just as I reached the front of the line, my phone buzzed with a high-definition photo of my fiancé, Preston, tangled in sheets with a junior associate at a SoHo hotel. The man I was about to tie my life to was a fraud, and my deadline was ticking toward zero. When I shoved the evidence in his face, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he gripped my wrist until the bone ground together, whispering that I was just a "junkie" fresh out of a Swiss clinic and that no one else would ever marry a liability with a personality disorder. My father was already standing by with a fraudulent medical affidavit, ready to force me into a conservatorship and strip me of my freedom the moment the clock hit 5 PM. They had spent years using my fake "instability" as a leash, treating me like a broken doll while they bled the company dry. I was the only one with the evidence to take them down, yet I was being discarded like a sunk cost by the very men who were supposed to protect me. I looked at Preston’s smug face and realized I didn't need a husband; I needed a predator. I scanned the room and spotted Dominik Mack, the "Vulture of Wall Street," a man who specialized in hostile takeovers and stripping men like my father of everything they owned. I walked straight up to the most dangerous man in New York and offered him a business transaction. "Do you want to get married?" I asked. He looked at my trembling hands, then at the man chasing me, and adjusted his collar with clinical detachment. "Deal," he said. I didn't just find a groom; I found an accomplice. This wasn't a wedding anymore—it was a declaration of war.

Action Modern Romance

The Captain's Cold Aspen Revenge

Chapter 1

You may also like