

Harper Allen is born in Prosperity Village, where women possess a special constitution that produces multiple babies per pregnancy.Because they have too many children, the village is desperately poor. Harper is chosen by the villagers to work in the city and bring hope to everyone—and she just happens to run into the Lauren family patriarch offering a fortune for a grandchild.Perfect timing! With the old man’s arrangement, Harper marries Spencer Lauren, the aloof CEO cursed by his family bloodline of “Any woman who bears a Pierce heir will die.” But the prideful CEO refuses. What to do? No job is too difficult for a hardworking woman—she has plenty of strength and methods! That very night, she ties up the struggling Spencer and tosses him into the bridal chamber...

Sylvia Xavier was born a vampire heiress. A servant's forbidden arts took everything -- her name, her arm, her family. Now she's married to a duke everyone thinks is insane. Turns out, he's the most dangerous ally she's ever had. And together, they're coming for the truth -- and everyone who buried it.

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

I had been married for eight years when I inherited a fortune worth hundreds of millions that my grandfather left to me and my mafia boss husband. However, just as the lawyer was finalizing the transfer, we discovered my marriage certificate was fake. That meant the entire inheritance could only go to me. “Ms. Rivers, according to the system, you were divorced a year ago. Your husband, Zayn Levine, is legally married to… Whitney Sanders. According to the papers, you're single. In other words, Mr. Levine has no right to claim the inheritance.” Whitney, the woman Zayn had once loved before she went abroad, the one he never forgot. I stared at the lawyer’s message, unable to accept it. All of Zayn’s affection and tenderness over the years had been nothing but a lie. I had planned to tell him on our anniversary that after eight long years of marriage, I was pregnant. It was the miracle we had both been waiting for. Yet it seemed like he had never really been looking forward to it at all. As I gently rested my hand on my belly, I told myself that even if my twins grew up without a father, they would be just fine. In this place built on nothing but lies, the only thing left for me to do was run away.

Joseph, heir of a top-tier family, is forced by his grandfather—who threatens to kill himself—to agree to marry the eldest daughter of the Smith family. But Joseph refuses to marry a stranger. Determined to choose for himself, he changes his name, goes undercover as a nanny in the Smith household, and sets out to evaluate the looks and character of the family's four daughters.

Leah, a senior juggling three jobs, has spent three years chasing campus golden boy Jeffrey—only to be treated as a joke. After her 999th confession ends in public humiliation, she snaps, slaps him, and walks away. For the first time, Jeffrey starts chasing her—unaware she’s hiding a life-changing secret.