Ethel Hollister's Second Summer as a Campfire Girl

Excerpt: ...to keep in his hand at the supreme moment. He also directed Ruys de Velasco to take from a special shrine-which he had indicated to him six years before-a crucifix which the emperor his father had held upon his death-bed. All this was accomplished according to his wish. He had already made arrangements for his funeral procession, and had subsequently provided all the details of his agony. It was now necessary to give orders as to the particulars of his burial. He knew that decomposition had made such progress even while he was still living as to render embalming impossible: He accordingly instructed Don Christopher to see his body wrapped in a shroud just as it lay, and to cause it to be placed in a well-soldered metallic coffin already provided. The coffin of state, in which the leaden one was to be enclosed, was then brought into the chamber by his command, that he might see if it was entirely to his taste. Having examined it, he ordered that it should be lined with white satin and ornamented with gold nails and lace-work. He also described a particular brocade of black and gold, to be found in the jewelroom, which he desired for the pall. Next morning he complained to Don Christopher that the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper had not been administered to him for several days. It was urged that his strength was deemed insufficient, and that, as he had received that rite already four times during his illness, and extreme unction twice, it was thought that the additional fatigue might be spared him. But as the king insisted, the sacrament was once more performed and prayers were read. He said with great fervour many times, \"Pater, non mea voluntas, sed tux fiat.\" He listened, too, with much devotion to the Psalm, \"As the hart panteth for the water-brooks;\" and he spoke faintly at long intervals of the Magdalen, of the prodigal son, and of the paralytic. When these devotional exercises had been concluded, father Diego expressed the hope to him that...

I just got my billionaire husband to sign our divorce papers. He thinks it's another business document. Our marriage was a business transaction. I was his secretary by day, his invisible wife by night. He got a CEO title and a rebellion against his mother; I got the money to save mine. The only rule? Don't fall in love. I broke it. He didn't. So I'm cashing out. Thirty days from now, I'm gone. But now he's noticing me. Touching me. Claiming me. The same man who flaunts his mistresses is suddenly burning down a nightclub because another man insulted me. He says he'll never let me go. But he has no idea I'm already halfway out the door. How far will a billionaire go to keep a wife he never wanted until she tried to leave?

Nicole spent a decade as the Hewitt family's treasured daughter, bathed in praise-until she was ten, when the truth cut through. She was the mistress's child. Thrown out in a rage, she vanished. A decade later she walked back in, no longer meek. The Hewitt family sneered and tried to grind her down; she didn't flinch. Every scheme, she made them regret. Gossip called her a naive country bumpkin. She answered with a diploma. On the track and the runway, in clinics and code, she stunned-ace driver, noted designer, legendary healer, elusive hacker. The so-called impostor stood above them all!

Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.

She came to survive. He was born to rule. Fate made them mates. And that's where the nightmare began. Evangeline has spent her whole life on the edge, unwanted, unclaimed, and surviving in the shadows of Crescent Moon Pack. A omega by blood and an outcast by choice, she's learned to keep her head down and her scars hidden. But when her dying uncle asks her to enroll at Blackclaw Academy, a school built on bloodlines, brutality, and unforgiving rules..... she agrees. For him, not for herself. She expected whispers. Glares. Even cruelty. What she didn't expect was Ronan Nightbane. The future Alpha. Cold. Untouchable. Worshipped. Feared. And the one the Moon Goddess bound her soul to. Being his mate should've meant protection. Belonging. Destiny. But Ronan wants none of it. He rejects her in front of the entire academy. Mocks her. Marks her as nothing more than a mistake. A threat. A girl born of nothing, who means even less. But Evangeline? She doesn't break. Not for him. Not for anyone. Because the power buried inside her was never meant to be found. The truth behind her blood could burn the entire pack system to the ground. And Ronan, no matter how hard he fights it.... can't stay away. Their bond is poisonous. Addictive. Dangerous. And when war creeps closer and secrets claw their way into the light, he'll have to make a brutal choice: Reject her... or ruin them both.

For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"

I came to ruin my ex. I never meant to kneel for his father. I came back to ruin Caleb Vane. I had a plan  that was cold, sharp, and merciless. But then I met Malric Vane. The man doesn't flirt. He commands. One glance and my legs trembled. One word and I was on my knees. He's the Lycan every wolf fears. The man no one touches. And now I wake up in his bed, spread wide, bite-marked, and dripping for more. He says I wasn't born...I was made. Made to obey. Made to please him. And the worst part? He's right. Because every time he calls me good girl, I forget my revenge. I just want to be ruined all over again.