Forehead Insult Novels & Stories

After a series of repeated near death experiences, reclusive billionaire Callum West is forced to accept personal protection. To add insult to injury, his new bodyguard, Roman, doesn't care about his billionaire status which irks him to no end. When Callum's gay status is brought to light and corporate vultures begin to circle around, Roman proposes an audacious solution: a fake marriage for one year that would protect Callum's image and life only if he lets Roman in. What he didn't expect was to fall for Callum and now he's stuck unsure of what to do with the hatred he's harboured for the billionaire even as other feelings begin to rise.

It was on our wedding night when my husband stole my heartblood to save his childhood sweetheart. His lips were on my forehead as his dagger carved my chest open. "Good girl. This is the last time, I promise," he breathed bewitchingly, his scalding tears dripping on my skin. "Once she's better, let's consummate our marriage." That was what he said, but I had heard it countless times before. In my despair, I used my last ounce of strength to tug on his sleeve. He urgently drained my blood to save another woman, not even looking my way as he did. What he didn't know was that it was my last drop of heartblood. And I was going to die.

“He dared fool me like this? Send such me a wolfless creature and call it a prize? You are no prize? You are an insult!” ** Feyre, an outcast due to her lack of abilities, is chosen as a Warprize to the ruthless Lycan King, Xaden. Despite her hopes for a new beginning, she encounters Xaden's cruel nature firsthand. Being wolfless ignites Xaden's rage, and Feyre becomes a powerless pawn in his lavish but oppressive world. Stripped of her dignity and subjected to his desires, she's reminded constantly of her worthlessness. The choice of life or death is in Xaden's hands, leaving Feyre trapped in a nightmarish existence. Would she ever be saved from his cruel hand? Or would she be able to fight her way out?

Keaton Rourke and I get in a car accident. My liver ruptures, and I'm drenched in my blood. Teresa Bellamy, my wife, leaves me to die and runs off to save Keaton, who only has a scratch on his forehead. I'm unconscious and clinging to life in the emergency room, but Teresa fusses over how to keep Keaton's forehead from getting a scar. I wake up feeling nothing but disappointment and toss the divorce papers right in her face. She rips the divorce papers to pieces like a lunatic and makes it clear that divorce will only happen over her dead body. I used to bend over backward to make her happy. Now I'm ready to divorce her, no matter what it takes.

On the way to my twin boys' parent-teacher conference, I'm informed that my sons, Ricky and Micky Stallone, have already been taken home by their parents. I'm immediately worried sick about their safety. However, when I look across the road, I suddenly catch sight of a very happy family of four—Ricky, Micky, my husband, Corbin Stallone, and his first love he could never forget, Ingrid Lacelle. Ricky and Micky both run into Ingrid's arms, cozying up to her and calling her "Mommy". Meanwhile, Corbin gently kisses Ingrid's forehead with a doting expression on his face. I join the crowd of envious onlookers, watching the beginning of the end of my marriage.

He didn't stop when he reached her but leaned forward and kissed her hard, on the mouth. The air left her lungs. Maybe it was because it was her first kiss or because he had kissed her, she didn't know but her lungs were burning, her lips were on fire. She was one fire. It ended in a second. She stared at him with wide eyes as he stared back. His hand traced her forehead, nose, lips and then chin as it stopped on her throat. She knew, by God she knew he could feel her pulse, the heat on her cheeks. "I'm home." Dean Woodland left two years ago without a word or sound and now he is back to bring his belongings with him.

WARNING: This book will contain, violence, severe abuse, extra mature content, steamy scenes, to read 18+ required At a young age, Morana became the subject of insult and molestation because of her father's traitorous deed. Growing up and finding out the Alpha was her mate she thought her life would change, but then it went from bad to worse because all he promise to ever make her feel was pain. And after he took away the one thing she cherished the most, she vowed for revenge thus running away and rejecting him. On that same night, under the moon was her meeting him, her second chance mate, he wouldn't reject her neither did he want to accept her, but Morana believes she had a shot of happiness with him. Did she?

Roseline Kentwood (Gift) is trying to earn a living so she takes the chance of being Jace Snowman, a rude billionaire's maid.She's not an easy-going, vulnerable, quiet and a maid that'll just let anyone insult her and treat her like trash. She's fiery and wouldn't miss a chance to spit at you and let you know how ill-mannered she is if you try to look down your nose at her.Jace is loving her spirit and her fiery nature and physique, but what's kind of limiting him is his 'billionaire fiancee' and how he and people feel, for him to go into a relationship or love his maid with his high status.READ ON TO ENJOY THIS AWESOME-FILLED ROMANTIC NOVEL.REMEMBER THAT PLAGIARISM IS BAD AND THIS BOOK BELONGS TO ME, Gift Odulesi so no one should steal my work.

Wrong bride? Check. Contract marriage signed in desperation? Absolutely. Happily ever after? Let’s not insult each other. Alora Blackwood never planned to marry the man who ruined her life or the one who hated her family. But when her brother is framed for the murder of one of the most powerful men in the city, desperation sends her twin sister into the office of his son, Lucien Vale. The strategic Ceo who doesn’t want apologies but wants is a wife to enforce a stable claim on the company. Just two years of a binding contract for her brother’s freedom in exchange. But what Leyla doesn’t know is that Lucien didn’t choose her by accident and what Lucien doesn’t know… is that the woman walking down the aisle was never Leyla. It's Alora. And lies... make the most dangerous vows.

“Stop this.” I so desperately wanted to die of embarrassment as the heat and dampness from my panties brushed against my skin. My worry that he would see my soaked underwear was outright replaced by his large palm coming down on my poor, innocent bare flesh. I howled in more fury than pain this time, the insult to my pride feeding that fury. “My house, my rules. And this body of yours is now mine. So my body, my rules.” “You... you don’t own my body.” I managed to stutter, but that only earned me another round of punishment. “My body, my rules,” he said again, and this time I sank my teeth into my bottom lip as hard as I could. “Are we clear?” “Yes."