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Maisie Stone has known Ethan Ford for 15 years. She's gone from being a young woman to a married one. She's also gone from being Ethan's true love to an old flame. He cheats on her repeatedly, and she forgives him every time. After a suicide attempt, Maisie finally sees the light. This rotten world is just a competition to see who can be more shameless than others. In an open relationship, both parties live their own lives. Since he's messing around with her sister, she can mess around with his friends and brothers.

Breaking Free is an emotional novel about a young pregnant woman trying to break free from her past. With an abusive ex on the loose to find her, she bumps into a Navy Seal who promises to protect her from all danger. Will she break free from the anger and pain that she has held in for so long, that she couldn't love? will this sexy man change that and make her fall in love?

'So here I lay here in the cold, mentally shattered, physically broken, bleeding out and waiting for the sweet silence and darkness of death to come finally take its hold on me. A lot of things start to run through my head, things I don't want to think about right now. So I force myself to realize and accept one final bitter truth, he never loved me.' When Nova Storms meets her Mate, she prays for the best and expects the worst. Though her image of the worst was nothing compared to what he actually did to her. Unfortunately she didn't see it coming until it was too late. Left for dead, she waits. Cursing the Moon Goddess for her tortured life, when something unexpected happens; or someone I should say.

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."

People in our circle told the same joke at every gathering. "Jason's wife can't give him children, so she sends women to his bed every day. I wish the hag at my house had that kind of sense." They had no idea that my mother-in-law, Kate, was the one who had found those women and used my name to send them in. The first time, Jason Gibson threw the woman out and had a terrible fight with me. Afterward, he spent over ten million dollars on jewelry to make it up to me at the auction house. The second time it happened, he had barely touched her hand when he threw up. Then, he fought with me again. Afterward, he bought an estate and told me I would be the only woman by his side. - That was until the tenth woman. This time, he shut the bedroom door and did not come out all night. We stopped fighting. We stopped speaking. Everyone thought I would do anything to secure my place in the Gibson family and hang on to them for the rest of my life. But when I finally took out the divorce agreement, no one believed it. Not even Jason himself.

My parents were renowned educators, celebrated as top-tier teachers who mentored countless high achievers. Yet, I was the black sheep of the family, consistently bringing home failing grades. After yet another gentle reminder from my homeroom teacher, my mom erupted in frustration. "How could I have given birth to such a foolish child? You only exist to torture me!" She disappeared for three days. When she returned, she brought a girl with her. "From today on, Cora is my real daughter. You are forbidden to call us Mom or Dad ever again. Get out. Only when you can pass your exams will you be worthy of being my daughter!" Our next encounter was at the hospital, during the school staff's annual physical check. The dean spotted me, speaking. "Renee, isn't this your daughter? Sherry works here now! That means Cora's illness can be treated. Ask her to introduce you to the new director!" My mother's gaze landed on my white coat and shifted from shock to irritation. "She changed jobs and didn't even bother to tell me?" I discreetly covered the badge pinned to my chest, trying to conceal my status. I was now Evie Coffey, the director of Obstetrics and Gynecology.