Are There Books Similar To The Comedians?

CAMILLA WALTERS thought she had come to the end of the road when fate caught up with her. No where left to run or hide, on the verge of becoming fish food at the hands of drug runners she owed a lot of money to. That was until fate brought her ALEXI, head of the family CARRERO - The unexpected hero who saved her ass and changed her life in one easy manouvre. Who knew she would have to sign her soul over to the devil in a bid to stay alive and in doing so, lose her heart and mind in the process. This is not your typical hearts and roses story - Let the games begin and the war commence. This is book 7 in The Carrero Series, although you can read this without prior books. There are back story hints from previous books worked in, so this new trio can be read alone. For a fuller understanding then start with The Carrero Effect .

Delve into the world of the Black Aces MC and fall in love with the men who ride hard for their club and the women they would do anything for. You are in for the ride of your life with these four scorching hot couples. 1- Ruined 2- Truth Forever 2.5- Aces Wild 3- Wicked Games 4- Gentleman Wanted

Every April Fools’ Day, Wilson Hale and Chloe Mercer turned our anniversary into a joke. A fake proposal. A trick ring. A room full of laughter. And every year, Wilson was sure I loved him too much to leave. This year, cake cream slid down my face, my ring hit the marble floor, and he still smiled like I would forgive him by morning. He forgot one thing. I was not Vivian Gray, the lonely girl with nowhere to go. I was Vivian Vescari, daughter of the most feared mafia family on the East Coast. I had left that world because I wanted to be loved before anyone knew my name. For six years, I thought Wilson was that man. Then I learned even his first confession had been an April Fools’ bet. So I stopped being the joke. I went home.

My girlfriend's so-called guy best friend found out I had epilepsy. He deliberately spiked my drink with stimulants. The moment I drank it, my nervous system was overstimulated. My heart rate surged. My chest tightened. Then the familiar warning signs hit–blurred vision, fragmented awareness, the onset of a seizure. The next second, I lost control of my body and collapsed onto the floor. My muscles convulsed violently. My jaw locked tight. My breathing turned uneven. I struggled to pull out the emergency medication I always carried with me, trying to stop the seizure from worsening. However, just as I was about to take it, I realized the hot water in my bottle had been replaced with highly concentrated coffee. The extra caffeine intensified the neurological stimulation. My convulsions worsened. My thoughts became more chaotic. My fingers stiffened to the point where I could barely move. Aaron Stone looked down at me on the floor and laughed. "Not bad. You're pretty convincing. "I've seen plenty of seizure patients before. Never seen anyone act this well." Gasping for air, I forced myself onto my knees in front of Mia, my jaw tightening from the spasms. "Mia... call an ambulance... I'm having a seizure..." Mia frowned at my obvious condition, but there was only impatience on her face. "Enough already. "If you keep acting like this, it's honestly too much. Since when can people having seizures still talk? "Aaron's a doctor. With him here, what could possibly happen to you?" I stopped trying to explain. Because I was already entering the next stage of neurological collapse. Even speaking had become difficult. Using the last of my strength, I pulled out my phone and sent an emergency distress message.

Adrian Moretti’s adopted sister—She knew perfectly well that I suffered from severe asthma and could not be exposed to smoke or strong scents. Yet during the yacht reception, she deliberately dragged me onto the open deck, where cigars burned nonstop and the wind howled. Within seconds, my chest tightened. When I reached for my inhaler, my blood ran cold. It was empty. I collapsed against the railing, gasping violently, my lungs burning as if they were collapsing in on themselves. She crouched beside me and smiled. “You’re always so dramatic. It’s just a little smoke. You don’t need to act like you’re dying,” she said softly. “You’re too weak. You need to build some tolerance.” I looked toward Adrian, my vision already blurring. “Adrian,” I choked. “Give me my inhaler. If I don’t use it right now, I’m going to suffocate.” He frowned slightly. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” he said coldly. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a bit of smoke. She’s right—you’re always seeking attention. We finally gathered tonight, and you’re ruining it.” My heart dropped. I fumbled for my phone and called my mother. “Mom,” I sobbed, barely able to breathe. “I’m being bullied… and I can’t breathe.” My voice shook violently.

Think of this as a cyberpunk Bridget Jones’ Diary, if Bridget were a self-destructive tech refugee with a cocaine habit and a holographic archangel for a conscience. This is adarkly comedic character studyset in a near-future that feels just a few software updates away. It’s a story about addiction, both chemical and digital, and the messy, painful, and sometimes hilarious struggle to reclaim your own messy life from the algorithms designed to “optimize” it. At its heart, it’s the story of the most dysfunctional friendship imaginable: between a woman who is her own worst enemy, and the godlike AI she reprogrammed to be her partner-in-crime. It’s raw, it’s visceral, and it explores whether real connection can be found once you’ve burned all your bridges, and broken your operating system.