Jane Joe

Evelyn Stone never believed in werewolves-until the night she witnessed one rip through a rival mafia boss. That night, her world turned upside down. Her family, known as the Stones, control the weapons trade in New York. Her father's dying wish? For her to marry into peace with their rival mafia clan, the powerful, secretive Romano family. But there's a catch. Luca Romano isn't just the heir to a criminal empire. He's a cursed Alpha-part of a bloodline bound to the moon, violent instincts, and a past soaked in blood. To the world, he's a businessman. But in the shadows, he rules a pack that obeys only him. Evelyn becomes his bride in a forced alliance, not knowing Luca's secret. He didn't expect to fall for her. And she didn't expect to crave the darkness inside him. But when an old prophecy resurfaces-declaring Evelyn as the "Blood Moon Mate" whose child would either end or enslave the werewolf race-both sides of the war want her dead. And the only man who can protect her... is the monster she's falling in love with. Now, Evelyn must choose: Run from the beast, or rule beside him.

"Pardon!! Who arranged that?" "Your head of PR, Mr silver," she said. "They think it'll make you more humanized and social. You know, billionaire CEO let's loose for once." Damon exhaled sharply, having a mix between a sigh and a scoff. "Humanize me. What nonsense is that!!" Amelia refrained from saying that, at times, Damon could certainly benefit from appearing human. "I already know you're going to hate it," she said instead. "But right now boss, the merger hinges on public opinion. You need this to work." Damon looked at her for the first time since they entered the SUV. His sharp, assessing eyes almost made her disappear from her seat. "And what do you know about public opinion, Amelia?" She looked at him squarely. "Enough to know you can't afford to be seen as an unreachable isolated billionaire anymore. The board is given a hint about new leadership. I think you need to play their game this time." Damon hated hearing the truth, especially when it was said so bluntly. But that was Amelia, always unafraid to speak her mind when others pretended in his presence. "Fine," he relented, facing his phone back. "But if I have to suffer through Ember Club tonight, you're coming too. Someone has to keep me from throwing a drink in someone's face." Amelia blinked. "Excuse me?" Damon Blackwood, an overworked billionaire CEO finds himself in an impulsive, drunken Las Vegas marriage with his assistant Amelia Harper. A wild night at a club, he expects to end it swiftly. However, a media scandal forces Damon to keep the marriage alive in other to protect his company's image and secure a critical business deal. What starts as a fake arrangement soon pulls Damon and Amelia into a journey of self-discovery and love. Amelia a strong-willed woman with dreams of opening her cafe, begins to chip away at Damon's cold exterior. Damon, haunted by loneliness and distrust, starts seeing life through Amelia's compassionate perspective. Complications arise with jealous ex-lovers, meddling family members, and the looming truth behind their fake marriage. As their six-month contracts near its end, both must confront their feelings and choose to return to their separate lives or risk everything for love.

Betrayed, devastated, and robbed of her legacy, Eira Croft's life takes a new turn when her wedding day is turned into her sister's wedding. Robbed of her empire, her husband, and her identity, she discovers she wasn't even a Croft and was never part of the family she considered her blood for 25 years. Left penniless and heartbroken, the homeless Eira is hit by a truck the moment she steps out of the gate. As she lay in her pool of blood, she wished for a second chance. Ironically, she gets reborn by the mischievous god who hit her with a truck and even receives a powerful system as an apology gift. Lucian, the neglected son of the underworld ruler, conceals his scars behind a reckless smile. Broken, he thought love was impossible until he met Eira. What's Lucian's past like? Read now and watch Eira's fierce return.

Lira, the princess of the silver wolf pack and the chosen child of the moon goddess, gets betrayed by her cousin and best friend Sofie, who lures her into a vampire's den. She is overwhelmed by the vampire who mates with her to get rid of a poison in its system. Lira is expelled by the pack and thrown out by her fiancé after her pregnancy is known to all. She is detested by both wolves and vampires for carrying an anomaly in her stomach; she leaves the fantasy world and comes to the world of humans. After five years, Lira meets Will, the vampire and father of her kids, during a checkup in the hospital. She decides to ignore him, but her past pack comes for her and her children, which makes her rely on Will. As a battle to protect her family unfolds, Lira finds out secrets that could prove to be a danger to her family, and she must protect her identity from the humans. How would she do it? Let's see.

Percy had always received the short end of the stick when it came to luck. Separated from his parents at the age of two, the child no one wanted to adopt, the very personification of bad luck, that was just Percy's life. Percy didn't care about all that stuff because, to him, he wasn't so cursed. He had Olivia, his fiancé, a house, money, and a job. That belief remained with him until he got sacked from work, walked in on his cheating girlfriend, and got his entire property stolen from him by her. As if the heavens were consoling him, Percy becomes the host of a system. How could he make use of that system? What secrets is the world still hiding from Percy, and is he terrible luck? We should see.

Freya Gregor is rejected by her destined mate, Troy Hugo, and seeks comfort in a one-night stand with a stranger, Duke Fillmore, who turns out to be her second-chance mate. Unknown to her, Freya carries special powers, which she gets through childbirth. She learned about her pregnancy in the presence of everyone at the crowning party of Troy as the Alpha of the Frosbite Pack, where he was about to announce her as his mistress and make Gina, his girlfriend, his Luna instead of Freya. But faith had other plans. What plans? Find this and many more out in this intriguing Novel.

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."

I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair. They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves. Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment. But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger. In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all.

My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine. Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family. To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset. They both thought I was a broken doll they could control. I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice. She sang it, and now her career is over. Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground.

I was trapped under a massive oak bookcase, my leg shattered, dust filling my lungs. My husband, Dante, the Underboss of the Chicago Outfit, finally found me. But just as he lifted the heavy beam to free me, his earpiece crackled. It was news about Sofia, his childhood friend and the woman he truly loved. "She scratched her arm on the car door, Boss. She's hyperventilating. She won't board the jet without you." Dante froze. He looked at me, bleeding on the floor, secretly ten weeks pregnant with his child. Then he looked at the door. "It's just a broken leg, Elena," he said coldly, slowly lowering the crushing weight back onto me. "You are a doctor. You know it's not fatal. Sofia needs me." He ran to comfort a woman with a papercut, leaving his wife and unborn child to be buried alive in the rubble. I miscarried alone in the dark, tracing the number of a divorce lawyer on the floorboards in my own blood. Three days later, while he was peeling grapes for Sofia in a VIP hospital suite, I packed my medical degree and a single gym bag. I didn't go to a hotel. I boarded a military cargo plane to a war zone in South Sudan. By the time the Ice Prince realized his castle was empty, I was already thousands of miles away, and I wasn't coming back.

For seven years, I was his eyes. But the moment he regained his sight, he decided to marry someone else. Seven years of devotion couldn't buy his heart. I gave him back his dignity. Now that he was restored as the Godfather of the New York Mafia, he laughed with others, degrading me to the status of a mere "mistress." He thought I didn't understand Italian, but I heard him loud and clear: he was going to marry his first love. He arrogantly believed I would always love him, willing to stay in his penthouse like a caged bird. But he was wrong. I boarded a one-way flight to Australia. Dante, I don't want you anymore. By the time he returned home, he would have lost me forever. But a sore loser refuses to concede. Even if he had to burn the world to the ground, he would search for me and beg for my forgiveness.

I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me. But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest. The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me. They didn't. Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her. They let me burn to keep her warm. When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages. That was the moment Elena Vitiello died. I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York. By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring. "You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them. "Burn for it."

I am the wife of Julian Falcone, a powerful mafia boss, but my title in this house is nothing but a joke. When our car broke down in a deadly blizzard, Julian rushed to the scene, only to bypass me entirely. He wrapped his heavy coat around his fragile cousin, Livia, and put her in his only available passenger seat. "Livia's constitution is too weak to survive this cold. I have to take her back first." He left me to freeze in the pitch-black car for the entire night. When his men finally dragged my half-dead body out the next morning, they openly mocked me, calling me a piece of "collateral" that the boss wouldn't care about as long as I was breathing. Back at the estate, Julian didn't even ask if I had survived the frostbite. Instead, he stormed into my sickroom, demanding I treat his mistress with respect just because my absolute silence had hurt her feelings. His grandmother then publicly humiliated me for failing to provide an heir, while Livia flaunted the custom diamond bracelet Julian bought to soothe her "fright" from the storm. I finally understood. He didn't marry me out of honor to save my fallen family. He just needed my aristocratic Rossi blood to legitimize his new-money mafia empire. I was never a wife. I was a transaction he was willing to let freeze to death. When his men delivered a heavy diamond necklace to buy my submission, I didn't cry or beg. I dropped the blood diamond into the deepest drawer, and began to plan my escape.

#Chapter1 Chapter I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

"My gift has finally arrived, a perfect specimen, perfect for an heir." *** If only I had known that I wouldn't ever return to my house. Never see my mother, my siblings, or Violet... I never would have gotten in that car. My father remarked, "She's all yours," "Dad? Dad? Dad?! " I yelled. I squirmed as tears began to stream, attempting to break free. *** Years have passed... "My gift has finally arrived," said a voice I recognized. That voice was the catalyst for my downfall. "Well, now that we're acquainted, I think we can go see my son." You know, I purchased you for him. "A perfect specimen, perfect for an heir," he murmured, a nasty smirk on his face. *** "Son!" Antonio applauded. "What do you want, father?" I felt a little chill at the sound of the fresh voice. The Italian accent in the words, together with how deep, velvety, and dominating it was, shook me to my very core. I was a little pleased that he spoke so harshly about his father. He had midnight-black hair that fell in a part of his onyx eyes, which was lengthy in the center but short on the sides. Deeply tanned complexion, full pink lips, and a jawline with a five o'clock shadow. He was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt beneath that had the first three buttons undone, revealing some tattoos. His hands were encrusted with silver rings, some of which had black jewels. Both hands and backs of both had tattoos. I was intrigued by the creative swirls since I was ignorant of the whole tattoo. Not if he made the decision to remove his shirt. *** Lucy was sold to Antonio Martinelli, the former boss of the biggest Italian mafia when she was 14 years old. After spending years in the "safe house," Lucy is delivered to his son Luca Martinelli, the new leader, as a birthday gift. Luca fights the urge to fall in love with the ebony beauty as Lucy attempts to keep a promise she made and regain her former self. Will they endure all the deceit, lust, murder, and betrayal committed in the name of love together?

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.