The Alpha Prince's Purchased Maid

Love Slave to the Mafia Boss's Passion

[WARNING: MATURE CONTENT] "Each time you break a rule; I'll claim a part of your body as mine" Forced to marry the heir of the largest mafia syndicate to pay for her parent's debt and her grandmother's hospital bills. "Live with my son for 30 days, if you don't fall in love with him, I'll cancel this contract." Can Malissa live with the handsome, hot and dominating Hayden for 30 days without falling for his charms? However, there are rules to living with this lusty monster and as Malissa breaks them, she learns of pleasures that she never knew existed. As his touches set her on fire, her heart starts to melt. But does the two have a future together when Hayden is in love with someone else and Malissa cannot get over her ex-boyfriend? READ NOW to find out!

Forbidden Affair with My Mafia Stepbrother

The man I had a passionate one-night stand with turned out to be my stepbrother…and the mafia boss. "The sweet taste of your lips, your lewd moans, all the times that you begged me to do you harder, and the way your hips moved under me…I remember everything about you and that night, Abigail…" After her fiancé suddenly dumps her to marry her best friend, Abigail decides to drown her sorrows in the passionate embrace of an attractive stranger for the night. Fate plays a game with her again, when she finds out that the man that she spent the night with turned out to be her stepbrother, Raphael. Abigail finds herself living together with Raphael after her mother marries his father. With her mother’s perfect marriage at stake, Abigail does everything to hide her secret affair with Raphael from everyone but how can she escape from his seductive traps when Raphael refuses to let her go no matter how many times she begged. When their parents go on their honeymoon, Abigail is left to fend for herself from the lusty and calculating beast living under the same roof. Just when his heated kisses and seductive caresses tear down her walls of defense, Abigail is shocked to learn of Raphael’s engagement and the dark secret behind his family business. While at the same time, their parents are keen on arranging Abigail’s marriage to secure her future. Through it all, can Abigail gain what she desperately yearns for the most from Raphael: His Love. How can these two lovers who are destined to play ‘House’ overcome their cursed forbidden relationship and create a happy ending for themselves?

Substitute Wife for the Mafia King

Dahlia thought that she would be marrying the man of her dreams when she took her twin sister's place in a political marriage. After spending a passionate night with her groom, she wakes up to find that he wasn't who she thought he was. Instead of marrying her twin's fiancé who was her first and forbidden love, she ended up marrying Bradon, the man known as the Mafia King of the underworld. With her sister gone after eloping with her lover and with the country's economic stability at stake, Dahlia has no choice but to continue playing the role of Bradon's willing wife. Little does she know that being the Mafia King's wife would be so physically and emotionally demanding. Being married to the cold, calculating, and dominant Mafia King changes Dahlia's life forever as his seductive touches tame her body and ignites her soul. With each kiss and caress, he teaches her of pleasures unlike any she has ever known and shows her a way to escape her dark past. Shunned by society and her parents since childhood for always being second to her twin sister, Dahlia's life had never been easy. With no one to take her side, Dahlia was used to fending for herself, but what if her only way to survive this time around is to find the key to unlock her husband's cold heart? My other books: Love Slave to the Mafia Boss's Passion, Forbidden Heat, Love Slave to My Devil CEO Boss, Conquering the Emperor, The Alpha Prince's Purchased Maid, and Lust Contracts

She Took The House, The Car, And My Heart

After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary-but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.

Sexy Behind The Mask

She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith-the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room-Manhattan's most exclusive masked club-she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you."

Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine

I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting." When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home. Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name. He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal. I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing. As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life.

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.

Love's Sweetest Surprise: From Brokenhearted To Billionaire's Wife

For five years, I believed I was living in a perfect marriage, only to discover it was all a sham! I discovered that my husband was coveting my bone marrow for his mistress! Right in front of me, he sent her flirtatious messages. To make matters worse, he even brought her into the company to steal my work! I finally understood, he never loved me. I stopped pretending, collected evidence of his infidelity, and reclaimed the research he had stolen from me. I signed the divorce papers and left without looking back. He thought I was just throwing a tantrum and would eventually return. But when we met again, I was holding the hand of a globally renowned tycoon, draped in a wedding dress and grinning with confidence. My ex-husband's eyes were red with regret. "Come back to me!" But my new groom wrapped his arm around my waist, and chuckled dismissively, "Get the hell out of here! She's mine now."