Mobi Suite Novels & Stories

Dangerous. Forbidden. Unattainable. A cutthroat assassin on the run from the mafia is Olivia Hunter's decade-long crush. Eight years his junior, she's like a baby sister to him. He will never give her the time of day. Or so she thought. Until she woke up naked in her brother's best friend/new boss' bed. ### Brooding new COO of Hunter Industries Harmon Chancellor, is billionaire Will Hunter's found brother. These men would die for each other. Not fucking Will's baby sister was a given. A drunken moment of weakness and four years of restraint shatters. Harmon and Olivia fuck until dawn. Coming to his senses once sober, Harmon plans to escape on a business trip to Cupid’s Cove. He warns Olivia not to follow, but she stubbornly does anyway. Enter mafia princess/assassin, Robbie Marino. She's on a mission to drag Ghostblade home, by any means necessary. When Harmon learns that Olivia accidentally led the wildcard assassin straight to him, he's livid. He imprisons the spoiled billionaire's sister in his suite in a desperate bid to keep her safe. She wants answers he can't give her. He wants to fuck her forbidden pussy to shut her up so he can outsmart a mafia king. They can't both get what they want. Can they?

My father-in-law, Noah Quinlan, and I go on a vacation together. After checking into the hotel, we decide to swim around in the hotel's swimming pool. But a well-dressed man shows his disdain toward us outright while pinching his nose. "This is a high-class hotel! Ugh, why are there all sorts of people here? Don't tell me you two secretly snuck in just to use the pool! "I'm really scared of catching any infectious diseases just by sharing the same pool as you!" That man's words instantly spoil the mood for Noah and me. I reply coldly, "The hotel's swimming pool is meant for public use. Anyone who stays in the hotel has the right to use it. If you can't accept that fact, you might as well have one built at your home." The man is so angry that his brows are all scrunched up. He retorts furiously, "How dare you talk to me like that! Don't you know that my wife is the owner of this hotel? The fanciest suite here belongs to me all year round! "I order you to get lost right now! What if your poorness dirties the pool water? How disgusting!" Noah and I exchange looks immediately, soon noticing the coldness in each other's eyes. My wife, Zara Quinlan, is the one owning this hotel. Since when has she become another man's wife?

Eight months pregnant, I had every bank card frozen by my husband’s female secretary. Over the phone, she laughed coldly and said, “From now on, every cent you spend needs my approval. Jack works too hard to waste his money on a useless woman who only knows how to shop.” That same day, I was rushed to the hospital with contractions. Every card I tried was declined. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had also moved my parents out of their private senior suite and into the cheapest room available. Her reason? Two ordinary old people had no right to waste Jack’s money. I laughed. She had no idea those “ordinary old people” were the Don and Donna of the Bellandi family, the couple who had controlled Italy’s underworld for decades. She had no idea Jack’s company, his reputation, his fortune—everything he owned—had come from the Bellandi family. My parents had already planned to retire completely after my child was born. They were going to hand the entire family over to me. And to Jack. Too bad. Jack had allowed her to humiliate the only real power he would ever have the chance to stand beside. Three days later, Jack held a welcome party for his mysterious investor. In front of everyone, his secretary dialed the investor’s number. The next second, my phone rang.

The day Adrian Knight clinched a contract with our biggest client, I "accidentally" tipped a bottle of ink across the paperwork, voiding it on the spot. Because of that single blot, the project landed in Alex Lewis’s lap, and he won Chairman Henry Carter’s favor almost overnight, moving into the Carter mansion as their future son-in-law and watching his net worth rocket into eight figures. Adrian never blamed me. He just laughed that he’d never been executive material anyway and happily brought me home as his bride. Everyone whispered that, if not for my meddling, Adrian would already be sitting in the Carter family’s executive suite instead of scraping by in an ordinary life with me. Only I knew the truth: stopping him from signing that contract had saved his life. When Adrian learned I was pregnant, he locked me in the basement, fingers digging into my throat. "If it hadn’t been for you," he snarled, "I’d be Henry Carter’s son-in-law by now. You’re the reason I lost Rachel, the princess of the Carter family." That’s when I realized he’d been nursing this grudge for years. After he killed me, I woke up, reborn on the very day Adrian first reached for that fatal contract. This time, I’ll make sure Adrian Knight gets exactly what he wants.

"What do you think, Kenzo? Do I look sexy in this" pushing the door open to his suite room, he was met with the most unexpected scene, with sprawled legs on both sides of the bed, a book in her hands, in a flowy lacy thin white gown which stuck dangerously to her body, doing absolute justice to her perfectly rounded boobs which poked out dangerously through the see-through night gown, his long distance wife was right there, on the bed. She finally looked away from the book which was seated on both palms of her hands, she tucked it aside and then raised her head up, her eyes meeting his. "Missed me, dear husband?" Three weeks and four days ago was their 7th year wedding anniversary, and she wasn't available, she was never available, not for the first, second, fifth, nor sixth. So, why was she here now? After years of living totally apart despite being married, their main focus was their company, or at least, hers. They married for love, people think they didn't, they think it is a contract marriage, they married for love, or maybe just him. He married her because he loved her and he thought she did too, but maybe he was wrong. Why was she here now? This is a short, fast-paced romance designed to keep you hooked from the first page to the last.

I was treating some friends to dinner at the private club my cousin owned. When we wrapped up, I waved over a server. "Just put it on Nick's tab." The server nodded, but a manager I'd never seen stepped in to block her. Wearing a smile that never reached her eyes, she said, "Sir, Bosco is a members-only establishment. We don't offer tabs." I felt a flicker of irritation. "I'm the owner's cousin. Just let him know." She let out a sharp, mocking laugh and slapped a bill onto the table. Eighty-eight thousand. Exclusive suite atmosphere maintenance fee, ten thousand. High‑end social network filtration fee, twenty thousand. Spontaneous entertainment ambience enhancement fee, fifteen thousand. And a mess of other miscellaneous charges. Since when did Nick's place dare to bleed customers dry like this? "What's wrong? Can't pay and now you're trying to name‑drop?" She looked me up and down with an arrogant tilt of her chin. "I've seen plenty of our boss's relatives. Not one of them is as broke, pretentious, and shameless as you." Right in front of her, I dialed Nick and put the call on speaker. "Ten minutes," I said. "Make sure she disappears from my sight. Otherwise, I'm revoking your authorization for this club."

Julian Ashford, the golden boy of the city's elite, had his left leg broken by his father with a golf club -- all because of me, a scholarship student. He was stripped of his billion-dollar inheritance and cast out of the family. For three years, he dragged that ruined leg around an auto repair shop, doing backbreaking labor just to scrape together enough for my college tuition. Everyone said I was the luckiest girl alive -- that I'd brought the untouchable heir of a financial empire to his knees, made him willing to live on scraps in the worst part of town. Today was our three-year anniversary. I was carrying the freshly signed Holloway Group inheritance confirmation documents, ready to finally tell him my real identity and pull him out of this misery. I walked down the corridor of The Grand Pavilion, holding a box of vanilla shortbread -- his favorite. Through the half-open door of a private suite, Julian Ashford stood tall on two perfectly healthy legs, dressed in an immaculate tailored suit, sliding a rare pink diamond ring onto the finger of Victoria Sterling -- the city's most celebrated socialite. "Victoria, I used that scholarship girl as a shield to survive three years of my old man's relentless arranged marriage schemes. My body's completely untouched. You've always been the one I was going to marry." I looked down at my own hands, cracked and raw from the cold, and tore the inheritance documents to shreds.

He was supposed to be a stranger. He became her salvation. Ava Hart had it all—until she didn’t. On the day she was supposed to swear her life to Blake Turner, she walked into the bridal suite and found her fiancé and her best friend rewriting her future without her. They wanted her lineage, her status, and her silence. They never expected Ava to fight back. Instead of a scene, she chose a scandal. She walked straight into the Downtown Civic Registry and bound herself to the first man she saw. Connor Vale. Ava thought she’d hired a rogue enforcer to play her husband for a season. She didn’t know she’d just climbed into the den of the most dangerous Alpha in the Blackwood territory. Connor is a man of shadow and steel. To the world, he is the ruthless Obsidian King of the Vale Media Group—a predator who takes what he wants and discards the rest. But to Ava, he is something else entirely. Behind the cold, unyielding gaze and the scent of rain and dark cedar, Connor hides an ancient, aching obsession. He has been watching her from the sidelines for years, waiting for the moon to push her into his arms. Now, Ava is playing a deadly game of revenge. Every time Blake tries to ruin her, he finds himself crushed under the weight of an unseen force—Connor’s force.

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.

Three years ago, Alicia Brown walked away from the only man who had ever made her feel undone. After a reckless one-night stand with a powerful stranger, she slipped out of his hotel suite, convinced that disappearing was the only way to protect her heart. No names or contact information were exchanged—only a connection so consuming it frightened her. She never imagined fate would bring her back to him. Until she steps into her best friend’s home for the holidays… and comes face-to-face with Rhys Connell. Her best friend’s father. The same man who gave her the most unforgettable night of her life. Wealthy. Controlled. Devastatingly composed. Rhys is a widowed billionaire with a reputation for discipline and emotional restraint, a man who would do anything to protect his daughter. The moment their eyes meet, the past ignites. He remembers the girl who trembled beneath his touch, the girl who vanished without a trace. And the only woman who has haunted him for three years. Now she is under his roof, laughing beside his daughter, and staying in the same house with him. Wanting her once was a secret. Wanting her now is betrayal. But Rhys has never been a man who forgets what belongs to him. And Alicia is about to learn that walking away from him once does not mean she was ever truly free.