DiamondReads

Of course. Here is a blurb for the novel: **Elara Vance's escape was supposed to be the start of freedom. She fled her narcissistic ex with nothing but her four children and three plastic bags, determined to build a safe life away from his manipulation. Stranded in a rainy mountain town, her last hope is a job at a remote construction site.** **Julian Blackwood is a billionaire fortress of a man. A recluse who lives by cold logic and exacting order, he views the world as a series of problems to be solved. When a desperate woman with four young children interrupts his day, he sees another problem-one he can efficiently fix with a lucrative live-in job and a roof over their heads.** **Isolated in his gilded world, Elara finds safety but also the unsettling gaze of a man as complex as he is controlling. Julian finds his sterile existence upended by the chaos and warmth of a family he never knew he wanted. But as their carefully drawn lines begin to blur, the threat from Elara's past returns, forcing them to confront a terrifying question: Can a love built on rescue survive when freedom is the ultimate cost?** **A story of breathtaking romance and thrilling suspense, *The Billionaire's Refuge* is about finding the courage to trust again, and learning that the greatest wealth isn't in a bank account, but in a second chance at family.**

Amara thought her story was over. A single mother of four, stripped of her business, her savings, and her dignity by a narcissistic ex-husband who left nothing but wounds and debts in his wake, she was certain her life would never recover. Every time she tried to rise again, unseen hands pulled her down-sabotage, betrayal, even a darkness that seemed to stalk her relationships. But when a chance encounter brings billionaire CEO Cole Harrington into her orbit, Amara's broken world begins to heal. Cole is drawn not just to her beauty, but to her strength, her resilience, and her fierce devotion to her children. Yet as their bond deepens, so too does the battle raging around them. Because Amara's ex has sworn she will never be free. Through fraud, manipulation, and even spiritual darkness, he seeks to destroy her happiness. But this time, the forces of heaven are not silent. Amara's children carry gifts of light-prophecy, discernment, shielding, even a healing presence-that no evil can withstand. And Cole, who once thought his wealth was his greatest strength, discovers a calling far greater: to stand as protector, partner, and warrior beside the woman he loves. In a world where betrayal meets redemption, and where love must pass through fire before it shines, When Heaven Stood Between Us is a story of second chances, spiritual warfare, and a love destined-and divinely protected-to last forever.

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.

Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.

The thunder cracked over the Hamptons, but it was nothing compared to Elena Sharp's scream. She lay twisted on the marble foyer, accusing me of trying to kill her baby. My husband, Julian, walked in, saw the scene, and his eyes froze me out of his life forever. He didn't listen, shoving a separation agreement across the desk, accusing me of murder. Stripped of my name and home, I was thrown out, left with nothing but my clothes and a terrifying secret growing inside me. My accounts frozen, I ended up in a crumbling Philadelphia row house, forced to pawn heirlooms. During a fire, my water broke, and I delivered our premature daughter, June, whose lungs were damaged. I stole formula to feed her, facing massive medical bills. Accused of destroying an heir, I was exiled while carrying his true legacy, fighting for every breath. The injustice burned, but June's life was my only fight. Three years later, June needed life-saving surgery. Julian's dying grandmother called me back with the funds, forcing a cruel charade with the man who hated me, a man still oblivious to his daughter.

Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit. The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena. This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.

The silence in St. Patrick's Cathedral wasn't peaceful; it was a physical weight on Stella's shoulders, heavier than her wedding dress. She stood alone at the altar, ready for her perfect life, when her phone vibrated with a text that shattered everything. Her fiancé, Bryce, messaged just moments before the vows: "I can't do this. Monica needs me. I'm sorry." Monica, her maid of honor, was the reason he fled. Bryce's mother then publicly shamed Stella, implying her career ambition drove him away. The betrayal of her sacrifices, her future, and her dignity ignited a white-hot rage. Stella ripped off her veil, grabbed the microphone, and exposed the groom and maid of honor's affair to the stunned guests before storming out. A furious wreck in her ruined gown, she stumbled on the cathedral steps, meeting Julian Sterling, the "Cursed Son" in a wheelchair. He offered no pity, only a detached assessment. In a defiant, adrenaline-fueled moment, Stella crouched and asked, "Are you single?" Julian, needing a strategic alliance against his family, agreed to a cold, transactional marriage of convenience. With the City Clerk's office hours ticking down, Stella tore her dress, determined to forge a new path of vengeance and desperate necessity.

Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."

For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave. The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for. In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in. "Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer." His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient. "I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now." He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.

Yelena discovered that she wasn't her parents' biological child. After seeing through their ploy to trade her as a pawn in a business deal, she was sent away to her barren birthplace. There, she stumbled upon her true origins-a lineage of historic opulence. Her real family showered her with love and adoration. In the face of her so-called sister's envy, Yelena conquered every adversity and took her revenge, all while showcasing her talents. She soon caught the attention of the city's most eligible bachelor. He cornered Yelena and pinned her against the wall. "It's time to reveal your true identity, darling."

Five years ago, I saved my fiancé' s life on a mountain in Aspen. The fall left me with a permanent vision impairment-a constant, shimmering reminder of the day I chose him over my own perfect sight. He repaid me by secretly changing our Aspen wedding to Miami because his best friend, Annmarie, complained it was too cold. I overheard him call my sacrifice "sentimental crap" and watched him buy her a fifty-thousand-dollar dress while scoffing at mine. On our wedding day, he left me waiting at the altar to rush to Annmarie' s side for a conveniently timed "panic attack." He was so sure I' d forgive him. He always was. He saw my sacrifice not as a gift, but as a contract that guaranteed my submission. So when he finally called the empty Miami venue, I let him hear the mountain wind and the chapel bells before I spoke. "My wedding is about to start," I told him. "But it' s not with you."

At my best friend's birthday party, I drank tainted wine and passed out. When I woke up, I heard the doctor say it could cause severe nerve damage. I teased my fiancé Cayden Hewitt, asking who I was and where I was. He hesitated, staring at me, then called my rival Liam Hewitt. "You're Julia. He's your fiancé. You're getting married soon." I froze, thinking he was joking too. My best friend, Vivian Green, slipped her arm through Cayden's, looking every bit like a couple in love. Eventually, I was about to marry Liam. But Cayden, with eyes red from emotion, stood in front of the car to stop it, pleading, "Julia, don't marry him. I've realized I can't let you go."