Forgotten Secrets Novels & Stories

"Fuck.." I moan as my feverish skin makes me dizzy with lust. [Yes.] "Evet, Mila. You make me want to ravage you when I should be disgusted by the thought of even touching you." He mutters. "But I'm not. Instead, everything about you makes me mad with desire and I can not control it. God's, I tried to but I don't want to anymore." He removes his hand from the wall, wrapping his fingers around my jaw and he forces me to stare up at him. "You've already had a taste of me and one taste is all you get." I swallow loudly, throwing his words back at him. >>> When it comes to my prince charming, my life has been anything but a fairytale. The Esposito family robbed me of all I held dear to my heart. From the depths of my dignity to the depths of my son. I was living in continual terror; my body, as well as my trust and beliefs, were being exploited. Until one fateful day, I gained the strength to flee, dashing into an Irish bar and meeting a Turkish man. I stayed with him for the night before being compelled to return to the house of terrors. After being thrown down a flight of stairs 37 weeks later, I gave birth to my son. I knew who the father was the moment my son's gaze met mine, but I opted to keep it to myself. However, destiny had other plans for me, and I begged my son's biological father for protection as I fled the Italian mafia. We will work together to rescue our son and demolish their network, all while finding love along the way. My name is Mila Starkk, and this is my Screwed Up Love Story.

Zara has been homeschooled all her life to hide a family secret. She became a werewolf accidentally after her mother was killed right in front of her. She has just started college and Zara is finally ready to face the world and her childhood sweetheart Jason. Can Jason accept Zara for who she has become. Will Zara spare Jason's life when she uncovers Jason's secrets?

They've called me a lot of things; Desperate, reckless and stupid. My name is Arthur Rowen, and three months ago, my world ended. My father was murdered—skull branded on his forehead like a sick calling card, Lionel family signature marking him as a traitor. My twin brother Asher vanished the same night without a trace, like he never existed. The police won't help because Lionel's own them. So I did what any desperate, reckless, stupid person would do: I got myself hired at The Pit of Lust, the Lionel family's underground sex club. The plan was simple: infiltrate, investigate, find Asher, get out. Then Andreas Lionel noticed me. Seven years older, dangerously beautiful, rumored to have appetites that would make a devil blush. The man who might have signed my father's death warrant. He wants me in his private suite, in his bed and under his control. Maybe I should run and while I'm at it, I should remember why I'm here but Andreas touches me like I'm something precious, not another pretty body in his collection. Fucks me like he's trying to ruin me for anyone else, while somehow making me feel whole for the first time in my life. The worst part? It's working and my legs are spreading with each passing night shamelessly. I'm falling for the man who destroyed my family. My brother is still missing and my father is still dead. And I'm still lying to the one person who's made me feel alive. They say revenge is a dish best served cold. No one warned me it would taste like whiskey and sin on Andreas Lionel's tongue Or that I'd crave the flavor like an additive.

I receive a message one day. "Your condoms have been delivered. Total to be paid: XX dollars." I distinctly remember that I've never made such an order, but the address and phone number are mine. I call my husband, but he only says differently, "My godsister ordered them. She's too shy to use her details, so she used yours. It's not like it'll affect you." I nod silently. She might as well not have them if she can't afford to pay for them.

Layla Miles lives in a posh upper middle-class neighborhood, married to a neurosurgeon, and has a beautiful three-year-old daughter. The only thing missing is Layla’s past memories. When Layla and Damien decide to host a charity event to raise their profiles in Tampa’s high society, two men from her past pop up out of nowhere. With no memory of her former life - or them, she sets out on a mission to finally discover who she is and what had happened on that fate changing night in New York City four years prior. One woman. Three men. What will be the outcome? Warning: This work of fiction contains sexual scenes and graphic language.

He’s my sister’s fiancé. Completely off-limits. But He’s also the man I can’t stop craving. For months, I buried my obsession with Ethan Hunter. The cold, commanding CEO of Hunter Corp. A man whose voice alone makes my pulse stutter… and whose ring belongs on my sister’s finger. So why can’t I forget that night? The way his hands tangled in my hair. The way he looked at me like I was a mistake he wanted to make twice. The way I gave in… knowing I never should. And I’m supposed to stand there and watch him become hers? I can't let that wedding happen. I can't allow him slip away, no matter how wrong it is. Ethan Hunter is mine! **A steamy, slow-burn MM taboo romance full of dominance, guilt, and nights that should never have happened.*

Detective Casie Blackwood thought she'd left her supernatural past behind when she joined the police force ten years ago, fleeing the shame of public mate rejection and family abandonment. Now, ritualistic murders are forcing her back into a world she desperately wanted to forget. Three human victims have been discovered with surgical precision wounds and ancient symbols carved into their palms—markings that point to forbidden blood magic from before the supernatural communities established peaceful coexistence. When Casie finds a note written in the old pack language reading "The Hunt Begins," she realizes someone is deliberately targeting humans to harvest their primal fear, threatening to expose the entire supernatural world. Partnered with Detective Rick O'Connor, who remains unaware of her true nature, Casie must navigate the investigation while concealing her enhanced senses and knowledge of the supernatural. The wounds aren't from blades—they're fang marks. The positioning isn't random—it's ritualistic. And the killer's scent carries a terror that suggests they're being hunted by something even more dangerous. Forced to break ten years of silence, Casie contacts her estranged brother Elias, learning the symbols are ancient binding marks used to channel supernatural energy across factional boundaries. The killer needs seven sacrifices total to complete a ritual that will shatter the barriers between the human and supernatural worlds. With three victims already claimed and only four days until the next lunar cycle, time is running out. As federal agents circle and media attention intensifies, Casie must choose between maintaining her carefully constructed human life and embracing the supernatural heritage she rejected. The investigation isn't just about stopping a killer—it's about preventing an all-out war that could destroy both worlds she's sworn to protect.

Liana Elizabeth Rose of the prestigious Rose family woke gasping—remembering everything. At first, she thought it was a dream. Or a hallucination. Maybe heaven, maybe hell, or wherever people go when life has been cruel enough to steal their breath. But the room was the same. The curtains were the same. The smooth, unscarred skin she touched was the same. As if the last five years of betrayal and humiliation had never etched themselves into her. Then the panic hit. She remembered. Every. Single. Thing. The cold metal of prison bars. Her husband Adrian’s dead, beautiful eyes accusing her of the accident. The trial. The cousin who framed her. The family who abandoned her. The little brother who no longer remembered her voice. Her death. And the cruelest truth: she wasn’t even from this world. It was a book a stupid novel her roommate had recommended. She died inside a story she didn’t write. And now, she woke up at the moment everything began to crumble. Fine. Sharpen her mind. Feed her ambition. And when the plot tried to drag her back, she’d pull harder. Then there was him—Adrian. From his point of view, the world shifted. Her scent. Her voice. Her existence. Everything about her crawled under his skin, sank into his bloodstream, coiled around his bones. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t want to. He only knew: if she breathed, he wanted it. If she moved, he followed. Obsession wasn’t a symptom—it was his nature. And Liana? She had rewritten herself into the one thing he could never let go of. This time, she wasn’t the victim. She wasn’t a plot device. She was the storm. And Adrian? Learning, too late, that even possession has a price.

In the glittering world of wealth and power, where every smile was calculated and every gesture choreographed, Ann Sinclair is left wondering ‘what had she truly signed up for? Now that she was married to Lucas Montgomery, the internet giant. The game of marriage had begun, and neither of them knew just how dangerous it would become.

I found out I was pregnant at the same time as my mafia husband’s childhood sweetheart Rosa. To protect her baby from being aborted by her parents, my husband claimed her baby as his own. As for mine? He coxed me, saying he will claim only after her baby was born. I confronted him, demanding to know why he would do this to me. His response was cold and unwavering: “Claiming her baby as mine was the only way to protect them both. I won’t let anything happen to her or the child.” In that moment, as I looked at the man I had loved for ten years, I realized my love for him had died. Not long after, my family condemned me, calling me a slut for having a child without a father and pressured me into getting an abortion. Meanwhile, my husband was in another city, with his sweetheart, helping her through her pregnancy. By the time he returned, I was already gone.