What Are Books Similar To Red Azalea: A Memoir?

Dahlia Bernard gave Desmond Sterlings everything, love, loyalty, and a crown he never earned. She picked him from the slums, built him into a CEO, and handed him the keys to her empire. Love blinded her. Desmond repaid her by betraying her, stealing her company, sleeping with multiple women, and getting her own sister pregnant. A community dick, that's all he ever was. Now, Dahlia isn’t just broken. She’s angry. With Ronan Knight, Drawlwood's ruthless billionaire by her side, Dahlia is ready to reclaim everything that was once hers. And this time… mercy is off the table. ********** I was flung aside, my grip on Roselle slipping as I crashed into someone's arms, Ronan Knight. "Hold in your rage, Dahlia," Ronan's voice was calm. "There are better ways to make them pay. Don’t destroy yourself trying to hurt them. That's not how revenge works." I glanced down at my reddened knuckles. Tears blurring my vision. "Then tell me, Ronan… how do I hurt them?" I choked on my tears. "By becoming untouchable," he said softly. "Become more powerful, more successful. A version of Dahlia they could never break. And then… you make them kneel." He leaned in, a wicked promise in his eyes. "I'll help you rise again, Dahlia. And when you do… they'll beg at your feet."

18 years is a long time to search for someone who went missing but the Russo family never gave up on their Principessa and they never will. Luna is eighteen but her life has been anything but rainbows and sunshine, the complete opposite in fact she's known nothing but darkness and pain. She knows nothing of the outside world and that there are people out there searching high and low for her and these people are her real family. Can she be rescued and if she is can she lead a normal life after her past trauma? Join Luna on a ride facing I life she never knew.

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker.

On New Year's Eve, the smell of a roast in the oven drifted through the house. My grandmother walked over to me, with an old photograph in her hand, the edges worn soft with age. "Is Zack almost home?" My throat tightened. It had been three years. She could never remember that my younger brother was long gone. I was the one who picked up his ashes. At that moment, my phone rang. The moment I saw the name on the screen, the blood in my veins seemed to freeze. I stepped out onto the balcony before answering, keeping my voice low. "What is it?" The voice on the other end of the line trembled. "It's been three years. Are you still angry? I've been waiting for you to come home. Our son has, too. We're downstairs." Downstairs? I walked over and looked down to see a tall figure and a small one standing together. Through my phone, my son's voice came with a catch in his throat, saying, "Daddy…" My thoughts snapped back into place. I said flatly, "We've been divorced for a long time. He said he didn't want to stay with me." Then, I hung up without another word.

My fiancé, Conrad Reese, fell in love with his secretary, Kelly Dunn, and insisted on breaking off our engagement. I tried to reason with him. "She doesn't have any power behind her; she can't help you become the heir to the Reeses' fortune. You'd be better off keeping her as your mistress." Kelly, feeling insulted, threw herself off a building in front of everyone. Five years later, after he became the heir, the first thing he did was divorce me, destroying my family in the process. "This is what you owe Kelly," he said. I woke up again, and it was my 22nd birthday. Conrad's grandfather asked me what my wish was. "I hope Conrad and Ms. Dunn… will live happily ever after." I bowed slightly and said, "Please, Mr. Jonathan. I hope you'll let me end my engagement with Conrad."

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