Muddy Tree Arm Novels & Stories

My name is Elvira Rossi, daughter of Don Rossi, head of the Itavelle mafia family. Three months ago, my father was killed. Our operations were stripped bare, nothing left. The accounts were draining fast, and the family still had mouths to feed. Then a DNA report surfaced out of nowhere. According to it, I was the LaRosa family's long‑lost true heiress, missing for eighteen years. Money, at last, had found its way to me. For the sake of my people, I was willing to set aside my pride and play the part of a sheltered heiress. The car sent to escort me back to the estate broke down halfway up the mountain? I steadied it with one hand and carried it the rest of the way to the hilltop manor. The fake heiress dissolved into tears, accusing me of pushing her? I answered by striking the century-old tree in the courtyard, splitting it clean through. She went silent immediately. My fiancé sent bodyguards to "teach me self‑defense"? My two friends politely introduced them to the concept of being permanently embedded in a wall. As my so‑called "family" shook in fear, my knuckles cracked softly. After all, before inheriting the mafia, I inherited my father's favorite rule: "If violence can solve it, don't waste words."

"Dammit! I said stop! “He grabbed my arm, grinding me to a sudden halt. When I turned around, his lips were pulled into a thin line stretching all the way to the edges. The playfulness was gone from his eyes, aggravation slipping in its place. "Why should I stop Tan? So you can try to get me into your bed like those girls you sleep with every day?" I questioned, pulling my bare arms around myself to shield myself from the cold chills. "Because I don't want you here Holly. I want you gone, far away from RCU. I don’t want to see your face or be anywhere near you," he blatantly pointed out, no hint of remorse in his voice. "Excuse me?" Was he being serious right now?

My fiance called me to post bail after he was arrested. When I arrived, however, I was informed that he was caught in a compromising position. "I came to protect Lily because I was worried for her safety," my fiance retorted, putting an arm around her shoulder. "But her boyfriend didn't believe me. Or is it the same for you too? Go post bail already." Nonetheless, I spied the lacy underwear poking out ever so slightly over his belt. In the past, I would have made a scene as I demanded an explanation. But now, I was as cool as a cucumber. When the cops asked what our relationship was, I paused in thought for a moment, before saying quietly, "His employer." Once I signed the papers, I texted my brother: [I'll go on that blind date. Schedule it for three days later.]

I never expected my life to change the day my mother remarried. Suddenly, the boy I once knew the boy I swore to marry when we were children became my stepbrother. But Roman isn’t the boy I remember. He’s colder now, distant, with eyes that hold secrets I can’t begin to unravel. Our worlds collide under the same roof, separated by just a thin wall and the tension neither of us wants to admit. Forbidden desire simmers beneath every glance, every touch. He keeps me at arm’s length, yet I can’t stop craving the dangerous pull between us. As the lines blur between hate and passion, I’m forced to confront the past I don’t remember and the truth Roman is desperate to hide. How far will we go before we step too close?

After seven years of secretly dating Ross Stockdale, I found a proposal folder hidden in his study. Inside were a seaside dinner plan, a fireworks schedule, and a handwritten vow card. I nearly cried from happiness. I thought Ross was finally going to bring me into the open and give me a home. But on our seventh anniversary, I saw a short video posted by Samora Leone. In the video, the Leone family’s private marina was lit like daylight. Fireworks burst over the water while Samora stood before the family representatives with her arm linked through Ross’s. The caption read: Thank you for loving me all these years. I said yes. The man in the video was Ross. His hand rested on Samora’s waist, and on his finger was the matching silver ring I had designed for him years ago. Everyone believed Samora was the long-lost daughter of the Leone family. They were wrong. The real Leone heir was me.

“I see how you look at me, Daddy,” I teased as I stared up at him defiantly. Dario’s jaws clenched, and he dragged me by the arm until I was facing the door and my back was pressed against his chest. “And what do you want, princess?” My heart raced, my breath coming in huffs at his closeness. I have dreamt of this day for so many years. Now that it was here, there was no holding back… **** **** Tragedy struck Isla when her father and pack were completely destroyed after her eighteenth birthday, and now, the only person who can take care of her is Dario, her father’s best friend. However, not only is he her godfather, he’s her fated mate and the one man that she has wanted all her life. He was the one forbidden thing that she couldn’t have. But couldn’t stop wanting.

"What is your name?" "Again, sir, that is no concern of yours". "A mystery", he said. "I shall have to call you Delicia. May I put on your shoe for you?" She gave a start, her cheeks flamed. "No!" she said chokingly. "You may do nothing for me except drive on!" "Why, that is easily done!" he replied, and bent, and before she had time to realize his purpose, lifted her up in his arms, and walked off with her to his curricle. Miss Tellaro ought to have screamed, or fainted. She was too surprised to do either, but as soon as she had recovered from her astonishment at being picked up in that easy way - as though she had been a featherweight, which she knew she was not - she dealt her captor one resounding slap, with the full force of her arm behind it. He winced a little, but his arms did not slacken their hold, rather they tightened slightly.

“You can reject me all you want, Destiny… but I will never let you go.” Those were the words that turned my rejection into a prison sentence. I gave my heart, my loyalty, and my life to Alpha Coren Silver. I stood by him through war, prayed for his return, and waited for the mate I loved to come home. But when he finally did, he came back with another woman on his arm… and his child in her womb. When I finally found the strength to reject him, he didn’t accept it. But Destiny, my name and my truth, does not bow easily. No matter what chains he places on me, I’ve promised myself one thing: I will reclaim my life… even if the Alpha who owns my heart and body won’t let me go until I remember exactly who I belong to.

After being forced to donate the blood from my heart to my Alpha's beloved witch, I die in the cottage that he'd built for me. Before my death, my five-year-old daughter runs to the castle in the forest to beg him thrice. The first time, she runs into the study and tells him I'm coughing up blood. My mate, Alpha Alaric sneers. "Is this one of Clara's new tricks? I can't believe she taught a child to lie!" He orders his attendant to take our daughter away. The second time, she knocks on the door cautiously and tells him I'm trembling all over. Alaric snorts contemptuously. "What's with the act? All I did was take some of her blood, not gouge her heart out. She'll heal on her own soon enough!" Once again, his attendant chases our daughter out. The third time, she kneels by the study door and weeps, saying that I'm already unconscious. She begs Alaric to save me. This time, he gets mad. He grabs her by the arm and throws her out of the castle. "I told you your mother won't die! Lie to me again, and I'll kick her out of the Wolffang Pack. She can die at the hands of those Rogues!" He breaks her arm in the process, and she clutches it. She has no choice but to pass the family heirloom—a ring—that represents her identity as the Wolffang Pack's heiress to a passing merchant. "I can give you everything valuable I have, Mr. Merchant! I don't want to be an heiress—I just want my mother to stay alive!" The merchant accepts the ring and soon brings a herbalist. However, Alaric's beloved witch, Elena has him taken away. "Sorry, but your father is worried that I'll be upset because my darling black cat is sick. He's ordered all of the herbalists in the pack to focus on treating my cat first." She snorts. "Your mother can wait."

"You like this, don't you?" His voice was dark velvet, wrapping around me, sinking under my skin. I swallowed hard, refusing to answer, but my body betrayed me-the sharp inhale, the way my lips parted, the way my thighs pressed together. He noticed. Of course, he did. He stepped closer, eliminating the space between us, his heat overwhelming. "Say it." I shook my head, a weak attempt at resistance. His fingers traced up my arm, slow, teasing, until they reached my throat. He didn't squeeze, didn't apply pressure-just let his touch linger there, making me hyperaware of my own racing pulse. "Liar," he murmured. I exhaled sharply. "You're too close." His lips brushed my ear, not quite a kiss, just a whisper of warmth. "And you're not stopping me."