D E V O T E Unscramble Novels & Stories

Sienna Peterson had the whole “happily ever after” thing locked down… or so she thought. She married her college sweetheart, mastered the art of casserole-making, and dove headfirst into suburban adulthood. Twenty-one years later? Her husband’s traded her in for someone who still gets carded, her kids are off to college, and Sienna is suddenly very single with a whole lot of free time. Cue the midlife plot twist. Who says your 40s can’t be fabulous? Who says you can’t date a ridiculously attractive and a billboard 26-year-old named Daniel Walter—who just so happens to be sweet, sexy, and seriously into her? Daniel may be younger, but he’s got his life together and his heart in the right place. Sienna, on the other hand, has no idea how she ended up in a situationship with a man who knows how to properly fold fitted sheets. But hey—he makes her laugh, makes her blush, and makes her feel more alive than she has in years. It starts off as just fun... but what if it’s more than that? What if age is just a number, and love is the surprise twist she never saw coming? One woman’s fresh start. One unexpected romance. And a whole lot of awkwardly hot moments.

I am the wife of Anthony Caster, don of the mafia family in New York. When I was nine months pregnant, he brought a woman named Evelyn Graves into the manor, claiming she’d saved his life. That was the day my nightmare began. She put something in my food. Next thing I knew, I was doubled over in pain. And she had the nerve to blame it on me—said I was being reckless with what I ate. She lost her footing and fell down the stairs, but she told everyone I was the one who shoved her. Every day, she’d cry in front of Anthony about how saving him had left her wounded and unable to bear children, how seeing a pregnant woman broke her heart. But the moment she turned to me, the tears were gone, replaced by a cold smile. “As long as I’m here,” she whispered, “your babies will never be born.” Anthony was convinced I was jealous of her. He locked me away in the abandoned attic of the manor and said, “Reflect on your actions and stop bullying Evelyn.” On the first day they shut me in, the contractions began. I screamed, I begged, I banged on the door. The butler heard me and went to inform Anthony. He said, “Amelia, your due date is three days away. Stop putting on an act. Three days in a snowstorm and you came out fine. This? You can handle this.” On the second day, my water broke. I screamed at the top of my lungs, my fingernails digging into the cracks of the wall, blood spilling all over the floor. The butler went to Anthony again. Evelyn said, “Anthony, she’s making all that noise because she wants you to feel sorry for her and let her out. If you give in now, she’ll only grow more reckless later.” He believed her. On the third day, I stopped screaming. Anthony thought I had finally learned my lesson, unaware that I had already died from the difficult labor. When he finally opened that door, all he would find was my rotting, putrid body.

"Melonie Starling, I, Bolin Crescent, reject you as my rightful mate." His jawline tightened, and his arms rolled into a fist, squeezed angrily by each word. Every word that departed from his mouth felt like salt thrown into an open wound, and I became so weak that my entire body shook. Witnessing the pain of the rejection I'm going through, Alpha Bolin said, "You'd be a joke and unfit to be my Luna, so make it easier for yourself and also reject me as your mate." ******** Melonie is anxious to find her mate, the one who will give her what she has been longing for her entire life: to be loved. Discovering under the full moon that her alpha, Bolin, is her mate, she knows right away that he would never accept her as his Luna much as a mate. Alpha Bolin rejects her on the spot and uses his alpha voice, forcing her, against her will, to also reject him and flee from her, breaking every hope Melonie had in him. How will Melonie carry on, knowing the wolf she has been waiting for her entire life to give her what she has always dreamed of, choose to share it with another she-wolf who has made her life a living hell?

Ronan Blackthorne gets the same coffee every morning. Black, no sugar. From the same girl who doesn't even know he's worth billions. Annabelle thinks he's just another suit with good tips and a nice smile. She has no clue he owns half of Manhattan. Here's the thing though, Ronan's got a problem. His dead father just screwed him over big time. Turns out daddy had a secret daughter somewhere, and she owns 35% of everything Ronan thought was his. Now he's hunting this mystery girl down because his psychotic mother Victoria won't shut up about finding her and making the problem disappear. The barista he's falling for is the girl he's looking for.

I loved my foster brother, Cayden, for five years—five years of hiding, lying, and choking on the shame that came with every kiss, every touch, every lie. I should have hated myself for it, but I loved him too much for that to matter. I thought we had a future, until his first love, the one who had once shattered him, returned without warning. Suddenly, I was nothing more than a dirty secret. While he smiled at his engagement party, I was lying in a hospital bed, waiting for death, worn down by my heart condition and his cold neglect. I was as good as gone. Until Miles, who would later become my fiancé, saved me. A year later, I came back—with a loving fiancé, a healthy body, and a new life. Cayden seemed broken by my “death,” but all I felt was bitter irony. We were foster siblings, never meant to be together. He was just a mistake from my past, a mistake I swore I’d never repeat. But life didn’t turn out as smooth as I imagined. Miles carried secrets, and Cayden… he wasn’t ready to let me go.

Peter Crowley finds out that it's been three days since I last lodged a purchase request from him. Thinking that I've finally learned how to become a good wife, he decides to text me as a form of reward. "I've already restored your adoptive mother's treatment privileges. You should be more docile from now on. Don't keep lying just to ask for more money from me. "I know that it's tough, being from the bottom rung of the society and all, but I'm not a gullible idiot, you know." What Peter doesn't know is that I've already finished drafting a divorce agreement by the time I receive his text. Before leaving the manor, the only thing I can take with me is the white T-shirt and the jeans I wore when I first married into this family. No one will ever believe that I, the glamorous and radiant Mrs. Crowley, don't have enough decent clothes to take up an entire closet. Every cent meant for any private expenses needs to go through a corporate approval system. All of the fancy clothes and jewelry are locked up in a safe, too. If I ever need money, I'll have to submit a request to Peter's secretary, Cara Harden. This is all because Peter looks down on my background. He thinks that I'll somehow develop a bad habit of spending money excessively just because I've married rich. But three days ago, my adoptive mother was in critical condition. I quickly put in a request for 200 thousand dollars for her surgical bills, only for Cara to drag out the approval system's procession. In the end, my adoptive mother died in the hospital. Peter has no idea that the only reason why I can tolerate his behavior for so many years is for the sake of the medical resources that can cure my adoptive mother. Now that my adoptive mother is dead, there's no need for me to continue staying in this marriage.

as soon as I stepped out of the villa, it felt like I’d walked straight into a nightmare. Hector, the man I’d missed so much, was surrounded by soldiers, passionately kissing some woman I’d never seen before. The cheers and whistles around them felt like knives stabbing into my heart. I froze, my happiness turning into icy disappointment and rage. I forced myself to walk closer, even though every step felt like I was wading through quicksand. As more people noticed me, the noise died down, like someone had hit the mute button. Hector and his mystery woman were still in their own world until they finally sensed the eerie silence and pulled apart. When Hector’s eyes met mine, panic flashed across his face, but he quickly masked it. Holding the woman’s hand, he approached me. “Elena, this is Vanessa, she’s—” Before he could finish, Vanessa flashed a confident smile and offered her hand to me. “Hi, I’m Vanessa, Hector’s partner. We fell in love on the battlefield.”

BLURB I think a lot people don’t understand what romance is. Daniel Prescott is not an exemption, the ruthless billionaire only cares about himself and no other family but when it was time for him to get married. He filled a contract marriage to the Rose Hildegard, a woman that believe in love and flowers Rose who had to compel just for the sake of her sick grandfather’s last wish agreed and signed the papers until their first night and he candidly warned her not to even hope for a marital union. She was trapped in an only sexual relationship even though she owned an empire. What’s left for her? What is left for the ruthless billionaire when he starts to fall in love but she’s already falling for his best friend?.

It was the day of our marriage. We were supposed to meet up at the City Hall, but my fiancee stood me up. I waited for her the whole day, and the only answer I got was a picture from her assistant. My girlfriend sat astride on his lap, and her arms were wrapped around his neck while they were locked in a deep kiss. "Sorry, Mr. Terraton. Sophie insisted on comforting me. You don't mind, do you?" I demanded answers from my girlfriend, but that only made her impatient. "He donated his blood to me. Yeah, I was with him, but so what? Man up, will you?" That killed any love I had for her, and I called my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend's sister. "Hey, Sylvie. Yeah, about your proposal. So will you marry me?"

During the third year of our marriage, my husband's ex—whom he dated for eight years—suddenly shares a photo of a ten-million-dollar marital home on her social media. It's captioned, "I've finally gotten a mansion! Who's the best at dating? I am!" I gape at the image—I see my husband swiping his card at the real estate sales office in a corner of the photo. I leave a question mark in the comments. In the next second, my husband calls me to tell me off. "I'm just making good on a promise I made her when we were dating—to buy her a marital home. Why did you have to go insult her like that? Are you evil enough to turn me into a man who goes back on his word?" That evening, his ex shares another photo of a million-dollar renovation bill. I know it's a gift from my husband to appease her, but I don't care anymore…