Novels

Before getting our marriage license, my fiancé, Frank, and I went for a premarital checkup. Turns out, the doctor examining us was Frank's childhood sweetheart, Juliet. When the results came back, Juliet held up my report and yelled, "Why did you hide your multiple abortions? Are you trying to pull a fast one and pretend you're a virgin?" I frowned, explaining I'd had fibroid surgery, but she burst into tears and fell into Frank's arms. "A fibroid scar isn't that big! Frank, you have to be careful. Don't get scammed by this tramp!" I was livid. We argued, but I didn't know Juliet

Lately, I've been feeling off. The doctor diagnosed me with Alzheimer's. He tried to be reassuring, saying, "Look at you, dressed so well. You must have a good life. This disease can be managed. Don't let your husband and kids worry too much. Why don't you call them? I'll explain everything." I opened my contacts, staring at the family section. My son, who cut ties when he moved abroad. My rebellious daughter, who resents me for interfering with her love life. My husband, probably out with his latest girlfriend. I couldn't decide who to call. I closed my phone. "It's okay," I

My boss, Bob, thought I was overpaid. He started chipping away at my salary, hoping I’d quit. He even had his brother-in-law, some dude named Chad, lined up to take over my project – a project, by the way, that was about to bring in millions. I didn’t argue. I just left. Fast forward a few months. Bob’s company was tanking. He was scrambling for investors, practically begging anyone who’d listen. And the bigwig he was kissing up to? Yeah, he was kissing up to me. It all started when I got back from a business trip. Bob called me into his

My Instagram story’s live audio was on, and I’m pretty sure I’m the first casualty. Nine photos, seven of which featured Ethan, the ridiculously hot architecture major. The audio? Me gushing about his abs, his legs, and how much I wanted to sneak into his tent later. And the worst part? Ethan liked the post. I cringed, trying to backpedal. “Don’t worry,” I typed, “I’m all talk. You can sleep soundly tonight.” Ethan, ever the cool customer, didn't reply. But then, when I twisted my ankle hiking, Ethan was suddenly there, crouching in front of me. "Didn't you like my

It was eight years into my marriage when I, blinded by a chance encounter with my first love, asked my billionaire husband, Mark, for a divorce. I walked away with a cool 20 million – my share of Mark's fortune – and remarried for "love." Little did I know, "love" would lead me to a gruesome death overseas, orchestrated by the very man who swore to cherish me. He'd then return to the States and inherit everything I owned. On the seventh day after my burial, my grave was desolate, visited only by Mark, who brought a single white rose.

It's been three years since I married Ethan, and he hasn't touched me. Wearing a lacy nightgown, I faked a hickey and sent him a "sleeping selfie," taken from his supposed POV. "Dude, she's amazing. Think you could speed up that divorce and let me have her?" I figured Ethan, upon receiving this anonymous message, would be disgusted and furious, ready to discard me – his sister's stand-in – like trash. I thought, finally, this would be my ticket out. 1. My sister was on vacation in Hawaii, celebrating their third wedding anniversary. She asked what I wanted as a gift. I asked for

I found a wounded werewolf. My favorite pastime was napping in his soft fur. Then, he healed and shifted back to human form, his eyes flashing a fierce warning: "A werewolf only has one mate for life. I already have a wolf I like, so I'll never accept you." With that, he ran off. I stood there dumbfounded, clueless. What was he talking about? I’d been treating him like a dog. What did that have to do with mating? …Later, I bought a big Labrador Retriever. As I led my new puppy home, I saw the werewolf squatting by my front door, his face

\"Ethan Sinclair, let's get divorced.\"\nAfter a long moment, I heard my own voice in the silence.\n\"Consider that slap your alimony payment to your ex-wife.\"\n[Cutoff point]\n

My husband, Mark, lost a point every time he ditched me for his childhood sweetheart, Sarah. By our second anniversary, our score was dangerously low, and then I miscarried our first child. When they wheeled me out of the operating room, the hallway was empty. A raging thunderstorm outside – Sarah’s always been terrified of storms. Mark never showed up, not even when I was discharged. I pulled up my phone and deleted the remaining ten points. Zero. We were done. It started with a mango pudding. Mark came home from a business trip, handed it to me like a peace offering.