How Does 'Choosing Theo' End?

For three years, Elena endured a husband who barely acknowledged her, a mother-in-law who treated her like hired help, and a sister-in-law who sneered that she was nothing but a golddigger. All the while, her husband, Damien, pined after his “perfect” ex, like his own wife didn’t exist. Until the day Elena had enough. She signed the divorce papers, packed a single bag, and vanished. Damien was certain she’d come crawling back within a week. But the woman they all dismissed? Turns out Elena is a billionaire heiress, the CEO of the very empire Damien has been desperate to partner with and the one now signing his paychecks. Oops. Now Damien is spiraling, realizing too late what he lost. But Elena has choices she never had before. Like her childhood best friend, an NFL star who’s been in love with her all along. So who will it be? The ex-husband who finally woke up? The best friend who never left? Or has Elena finally decided she’s done with men who don’t deserve her?

Raised as a slave. Chosen by the Moon Goddess. Mated… to the brother she never knew..... Raisa never knew she was the daughter of Alpha Theo and Luna Rina—an heir to the throne blessed by the powerful Alpha Damian. Stolen on the day of her birth and sold into slavery, she grew up with nothing but chains on her wrists and scars on her soul. Now, years later, fate places her in the Alpha's estate… and in the path of a boy who feels like home and danger all at once. He’s drawn to her. Protective of her. Possessive over her. And when the mate bond strikes—shocking them both—his world is shattered. Because she is his… but also his sister.

I've crushed on Ethan McKay since the moment I laid eyes on him. After a year and a half of going to the same college, he still has no clue I exist. Aside from my best friend, I'm practically invisible since I've spent the last seven years of my life purposefully living in the shadows, just waiting for my life to begin. Not that it matters. He's got his own life to live anyway. Parties to attend. Girls to see. And a father to impress so he can regain his trust, and earn back his rightful place in the family business. So, how is it that one night, one party, changes everything for the both of us?

“Have you decided, Alara?” Mason Whitmore slid the agreement across his desk. “Of my four sons, which one will you choose?” Ten years ago, I saved his life. He brought me into the Whitmore family and made me a promise: when I turned eighteen, I could choose one of his sons as my fiancé. The man I chose would inherit the Whitmore company. Everyone thought I would choose Ethan. He was Mason’s eldest son, a champion race car driver, and the boy I had loved for years. Then I heard him tell Jenny: “Alara was never my choice. I only said I’d marry her to keep my father happy.” So I made my decision. Not Ethan. Not Julian. Not Ryan. I would choose the son they all ignored. Noah Whitmore. The one in the wheelchair.

This story is about a girl who lives in New York City and is moving to a town called Bluemoon because of her father's job. Follow her to the journey of finding love and discovering new things and a newmeaning to life. And finding that everything she has ever know is a lie. A story of a teenage girl whose life turns upside.

My fiancé presented two engagement rings—one for me, one for my sister to choose first. The first was a three-carat fancy pink diamond, flown in from Antwerp, the kind that made dealers go quiet. The second was a plain platinum band, standard issue, the sort you buy off the tray as a backup. For the first time in my life, I pointed at the pink diamond. "I'll choose first this time." Dante Moretti ran his hand through my hair, the way you soothe a restless dog. "Eleanor, you know Grace has always been particular. If she can't have the best, she'd rather have nothing. You've never cared about any of this. The other one is fine." I didn't answer. My chest felt hollow. We'd grown up together—his father ran the West Coast territory, mine the East. But in Dante's eyes, I'd always been the second daughter, the one who got what Grace didn't want. Every summer, he'd cut watermelon and bring the first plate to Grace. She'd take the center slice—sweetest, seedless, deepest red. He'd push the rest toward me—the pale pink near the rind. "This part's still good. Just not as sweet." When he bought his first Maserati, Grace picked the front seat—less motion sickness. He gestured at the back. "A little tight, but you can pick either side." Even our love was secondhand. He'd loved Grace first. She chose her academic career over him. So Dante, wounded and restless, came to me. In his world, Grace was always the first choice. I looked at the platinum band and pushed it across the table. "Give them both to Grace. I don't want either."