

After his first love died, Oscar hated me for ten years. I tried everything to soften him. Nothing worked. "If you really want to please me, go die." The words cut deep. But when the riot came, he threw himself in front of me and was hacked down where he stood. He stared at me as he bled out. "If only… my fated mate hadn't been you." At his funeral, his parents wept. "We should have let him be with Catherine. We forced him to marry her, all because of that damn prophecy." Windvale Pack lived by prophecy. Years ago, the Seer had foretold that if Oscar didn't take his fated mate as his bond-mate, disaster would fall on the pack. I was that fated mate. But now, everyone wished I never had been. Even me. I was driven from the funeral, hollow. Then the Moon Goddess descended. She offered me a chance—ten years back—on two conditions. I would not become Oscar's mate. I would prevent Catherine's death. I said yes without thinking.

Three years ago, an earthquake struck. Lydia's husband and son died saving everyone in their building. Their neighbor Eleanor gradually forgot their sacrifice in the years that followed. For three years, Lydia has quietly honored her loved ones' memory, while Eleanor has come to see Lydia as a symbol of bad luck. Now Eleanor's son Marcus is about to hold his wedding. Lydia decides to make everyone understand in her own striking way that honoring the departed is honoring life itself, and that remembering an act of kindness keeps warmth alive in people's hearts.

Retired ace assassin Connor Fraser, fleeing from his organization's death squad, seizes an opportunity when heiress Martha Clarke loses her memory in a car explosion. He takes her to a remote border town,claiming they’re cousins. Living under the forbidden pretense of being “family”, they develop feelings for each other. Forced to face crisis after crisis together, they must confront both their true identities and their growing attachment in the shadow of life-and-death trials.

A little over a month pregnant, I was happily looking forward to my wedding—until my fiance teamed up with my parents and brothers to put me on trial at the Court of Justice. They fabricated charge after charge, hoping to have me executed in the name of the law. If the judge found me guilty, I would be sentenced to death on the spot. Once I was dead, my corneas would be transplanted into my adopted sister, and everything I owned—my assets and insurance—would be claimed by them. Faced with my fiance’s betrayal and my family’s treachery, I fought back. I demanded the judge use the latest medical technology to extract my memories and project them on the big screen, letting the judge and hundreds of public jurors decide my fate. Just as everyone was smugly certain of their victory, the truth revealed by my memories moved the entire courtroom to tears.