Déesse Novels & Stories

My parents forced me to drop out of school and work eight jobs just to support my cousin Lola. I was only allowed to keep twenty bucks a month. One day, while working on a construction site, I got buried in a collapse. Dying, I called them—but they were busy throwing a lavish birthday party for Lola. Turns out they'd faked bankruptcy. Every penny went to her. After I died, they spread rumors that I'd run off with some guy. When the truth came out, my parents lost their minds. Their company went under. Later, I found out Lola was actually my twin sister—she'd been sent away as a baby to avoid some legal trouble. In the end, my mother poisoned Lola, then killed herself. Only then could my soul rest. My aunt came to my grave and whispered, "Next life, come to me."

The first thing I did when I came back to life was to pawn off my engagement to the Don of the Schroder family, Edmund, on my stepsister. In my last life, he used the "family rules" to make me give up the one thing I loved—racing. He threw out all my colorful dresses and turned me into his canary in a gilded cage. I died, suffocated and hopeless. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the marriage contract was to be signed. I quietly switched my name with my stepsister Laura's and let Edmund sign the papers. He didn't forget to warn me, "Stay out of trouble. Our wedding is in three days. Be a good girl and wait for me to come get you." But he had no idea I'd already bought a fake ID and passport. In three days, I'd be gone. I'd be free.

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

“You want me to pretend to be your fiancée?” Paige’s voice trembled quietly. Leonardo D’Angelo, her boss, the man she’d spent way too many nights secretly pining over, was holding her by the shoulders. His eyes beseeching. Paige, I know this might come as a surprise to you,” Leonardo’s voice was softer, almost hesitant. “But I need you to be my fake fiancée.” Her heart slammed against her ribs. This had to be a joke. “I—what?” she stammered, staring at him like he’d grown another head. “It’s only for three to four weeks,” he pressed, his grip tightening slightly on her shoulders. “I’ll pay you double, or a vacation, whatever you want. Just say yes.” Paige opened her mouth to refuse, because this was insane, but the look in his eyes stopped her. For once, the arrogant, self-assured Leonardo D’Angelo looked… vulnerable. “Please,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper. She should have said no. She should have walked away. Instead, the word slipped from her lips before she could stop it. “Yes.” The relief on his face was immediate, but Paige’s stomach twisted with nerves. What had she just agreed to? And yet, somewhere beneath the chaos, was the dangerous thrill of being the woman by his side.

THIS BOOK CONTAINS EROTIC, AND BDSM SCENES AS WELL. SECOND PART OF THE CEO'S DIVORCED WIFE IS SEXY DOCTOR. “Daddy,” she had whispered, so softly it was almost a sigh. “Teach me.” God, how could I have resisted her then? I remembered how I’d taught her, how I’d guided her trembling hands over my body, how I’d whispered instructions in her ear, making her repeat every dirty word back to me. “Call me ‘Daddy’ again,” I’d commanded, my lips brushing against her neck. “Daddy,” she had moaned, her head falling back as I kissed my way down to her collarbone. “Please…” Lily left the city when she found that her best friend and Isaac, his brother's best friend whom she dated secretly, had been cheating on her. She left the city and hid herself from her past and Isaac, the man who broke her heart. She’s raising their daughter, Ayla, in secret. When Ayla was diagnosed with leukemia, Lily was a doctor who returned to Los Angeles for lab research, unknowingly entering Isaac’s world again. As she seeks help, Isaac discovers she’s back, and old feelings resurface. Now, Lily must protect Ayla’s secret while facing the man she once loved, all to save her daughter’s life.

I was born into the Valerie family, with the noble blood that could give a vampire a powerful hybrid heir. I was meant to marry Ethan, heir to the Prince. But the night before the engagement, his younger brother Adrian knelt in the rain in front of me. “Elena, I’d give up everything.” “I love you. You’re all I want.” So I broke the engagement, let my family disown me, and married him without a backward glance. Then I got pregnant. He started keeping me at arm’s length, finding reasons not to touch me, not even willing to stay in the same room as me. Until the night I heard him tell his men: “Once Elena has the baby, we’ll hand it over to Ethan and Sophia.” “Sophia’s health is fragile. I can’t bear to put her through a pregnancy.” That was when I finally understood. Adrian had never loved me. He’d married me only to free up the place beside Ethan for my cousin Sophia. Even the child I’d struggled so hard to carry had already been promised away to the woman he truly loved. I rested a hand on my belly and called my father. “Dad, I was wrong about him.” Adrian thought I’d stay trapped in his web of lies forever. He had no idea. Two months from now, I would vanish from his world for good.

He was a billionaire for a reason, yet he was swayed by a woman. Recalling the moment he entered into the living room as she hurled her red satin bra at him, revealing her naked treasure. She had captivated his attention in a manner that no other woman had before. Then she'd contested and dared him, and he'd discovered he enjoyed it. Women frequently become charmingly submissive around him. But she was so unique. Forget danger. Challenge could have been her middle name.

When Sylvia Reed postponed our wedding for the fifth time, I found a pregnancy test report in her bag and decided to force the issue. Then I saw a trending local post. A woman rolled up her sleeves, baking cookies. Beside her, a man bent down to tease a child. One look was enough. I recognized the scar on her wrist. It was in the exact same spot as the one Sylvia got years ago when she took a knife for me. The scarf draped over the man's shoulders was one I'd custom-made for Sylvia. Our initials were stitched into it. The sight burned. I thought about how Sylvia had been glued to her phone lately, and how I'd heard a baby crying through it. Ten minutes ago, she'd sent me a voice message. "Luke, something urgent came up at the company. I can't make it back to try on the suit with you. Maybe we should postpone the wedding again? Next year. We'll definitely do it next year." But I'd already waited seven years for this wedding. I took off my groom's suit and cut it to pieces. Then I wiped my eyes, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number I hadn't called in seven years. "I'm short a bride for my wedding. Interested?"

Dad, I laughed quietly to myself. If you could see me now. You’d never think I’d ever be here. An actual werewolf sleeping at my feet? I’m really back in Jericho… Seems so silly, fighting you all these years and in the end here I am. Maybe you’d be happy. I don’t know. I like him... Elias. He seems like a great guy, maybe you'd like him too. Seriously, though, he's the alpha of your old pack. He seems dangerous and yet, he saved me. He seems to care about me, and maybe I'm silly for feeling it but I think I like him too. Six months ago Freya's father died, sending her to the bustling city of Jericho. Nearly kidnapped her first night and actually kidnapped her second she finds herself at the mercy of the mysterious Alpha Elias of the Hollow Moon Pack. Her attraction to him is hard to ignore but she wasn't born a werewolf. Her conflicting instincts to want to run and reject this pack are prevented why she finds out Elias has to be the one to reject her. Just seeing the way Elias looks at her, though, Freya can tell it will take some convincing to finally be free from him. Then again... does she want to be?

My fiancé was sleeping with my maid of honor. I caught them the night before our wedding. I didn't make a sound. I closed the door, walked back to my bridal suite, and sat at the vanity until my hands stopped shaking. Then I grabbed my keys. At two in the morning I drove forty blocks across Manhattan and knocked on Atlas Marchetti's door. Two years ago I'd told my family I wouldn't marry him. He hadn't said a word about it since. He opened the door in pajama pants. "Marry me tomorrow," I said. He didn't say yes. He poured himself a drink first, listened to everything, and then handed me a piece of paper with terms I should have read more carefully. I signed at dawn. Six hours later I walked down the aisle Carter and I had planned. The Plaza ballroom. The dress I'd chosen in spring. Three hundred guests who came to watch me marry the wrong man. I married someone else instead. Carter watched it happen. He didn't understand yet what he'd lost, and he wouldn't understand for months. Not until he found out who owned the company he ran, and how long Atlas had been bleeding it. I went to Atlas for revenge. He'd been writing this for two years.