Too Eager Synonym Novels & Stories

Brianna Lester, with her unusually platinum blonde hair and grayish-blue eyes, is impossible to miss wherever she goes. Her bubbly personality, hyperactivity, innate talent for tripping even while standing still, and her knack for always causing trouble ensure that she immediately catches the attention of the coolest tattoo artist around. Unfortunately, it's not her rather unique appearance that gets noticed, but her clumsiness. The moment she closes the door of the tattoo shop, one of the pictures hanging on the wall-the owner's favorite, and quite valuable-unexpectedly falls down. To make up for the damage, she ends up working at the shop until she can pay off the cost of the picture. It would all be pretty easy if a sexy tattoo artist didn't enjoy teasing her about her bad luck. By now, Brianna has resigned herself to the idea that her life is stuck in the "never a joy" zone, and her birthday is proof of that. Who can be considered lucky if they were born on a day that only comes once every four years? No one. Some people are kissed by fortune at birth, while others are kissed by bad luck. Brianna definitely falls into the latter category.

Newly married and over the moon, Sienna inks her husband’s name on her lower back. A permanent gesture for a forever union, right? Wrong. Five years later, in the throes of a messy divorce, she is back to the tattoo shop to get a coverup tattoo. But she doesn’t expect to find that her tattoo artist is the hottest man alive — and he has been waiting for her. He is Gavin Kessler, the Tattoo Master. Tough on the outside, tougher on the inside. With an ugly past casting a long shadow on his present and future. What starts out as a crazy contract between them spirals into something far more dangerous. Sienna soon realizes she wants more than a tattoo from the Tattoo Master. She wants his díck, his protection, and if the differences between them will allow, his heart. Which of these is Gavin willing to give? ⚠️ WARNING: This book is exclusively for adult audiences (18+). It explores explicit sexual language, morally complex characters, toxic family dynamics and occasional violence.

At the awards for the Global Jewelry Design Competition, my stepsister Sandra took the grand prize. She used the designs she stole from me. What she didn’t know was the show’s biggest sponsor: Jude Moretti. Godfather of the Moretti family. A bloodthirsty monster scarred in an explosion, a man they say can never have children. And the grand prize? Becoming the Godfather’s bride. That night, Moretti’s men, all in black, delivered a gold-trimmed marriage contract. They were here for the “genius designer.” My fiancé, Marco, panicked. He whisked Sandra off to Vegas to save her. They got married that night. With the deed done, Sandra strutted back in, wearing my silk robe. She flashed the ring on her finger and the hickies all over her neck. “Marco’s mine now,” she purred. “What are you going to do, Odessa? The Godfather’s only giving you a day. If you don’t marry him, the Family will have to appease him. That means sending you to the red-light district. Selling you to the kind of sicko who gets off on broken things.” She was wrong. I had another choice. I found my father and stepmother, both scrambling to deal with the contract. “I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll marry the Godfather.”

Just before my wedding, my fate mate, my Alpha fiancé, Micheal, stripped me of my wedding dress—our wedding dress—and handed it to his mistress, Becky Porter. Not only that, but he locked me in the dressing room like some rabid wolf he needed to contain. "Becky has a terminal illness.She just wants to experience being a bride before she dies." I lunged forward, my wolf howling inside me. Alpha's strength pressed against mine, his dominance forcing my muscles to lock. My claws twitched, itching to break free. "You bastard!" I snarled, my breath ragged. Micheal barely blinked. Instead, he let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head . "She’s dying, and you can’t even show a little compassion?" His tone dripped with disappointment, as if I were the villain here. "You’re only losing a wedding, but Becky… Becky is losing her dreams and her life."

My dormmate has dropped out of college to get married. Before that, she shares a livestream link on the college forum. She claims her husband has cheated on her, and she wants to stream how she punishes the homewrecker. She asks everyone to share the link and hype the situation up. I don't take her words to heart. To my surprise, she barges into my house with a group of people that afternoon. She trashes the place and screams bloody murder at me. It seems she thinks I'm the homewrecker. It's only from her words that I understand her rich and handsome husband is my father. Well, since she's caused such a scene, it looks like her darling is going to lose his job and leave this family without a penny to his name.

It was the day of my return. The city was talking about the birthday party my husband was throwing for me. He was a lawyer. But the night before the big day, a message popped up on my husband's cell phone. 'It's been five years. I've been waiting for far too long.' My husband pushed me away, though his face was smeared with guilt. "I'm sorry, honey. The GM wants me on a last-minute work trip. I can't make it in time for your birthday." He left without even missing a beat. I opened up the GPS app and watched the red dot move away. That was him. I got an Uber and tailed him right away. His GM was me. I just got the job, and I approved his leave for my birthday. And then he told me, in my face, that I assigned him on a last-minute work trip when I did no such thing. It was midnight. And I was going to find out who this man was meeting at this witching hour.

I had stopped pretending the night Sebastian sailed past our bedroom door for the third time and didn’t look back. I had married him to keep my father’s company intact. Out of my father's desperation. The vows were for the cameras and the board, everything else was ledger entries and quiet compromises. He chased his affairs in public while I held the facade. He saw my composure and called it martyrdom. He never figured out that my calm was armor, not devotion. Then Samantha came home, twenty-three, luminous, curious, the kind of warmth that made places in me I’d kept cordoned off ache. She drifted into my life with easy laughter and careless questions. A sister-in-law, that became my obsession. We started with late-night talks, her voice soft in an empty house, her hand brushing mine while we pretended we were discussing nothing at all. Those small touches stopped being accidental, but deliberate. While Sebastian was busy elsewhere, I took his sister. Not to win anything on a balance sheet, not to score a victory, but to finally have the means to protect who I am, and who I love. Samantha was bewildered at first, shame and curiosity tangling on her face, but the way she leaned into the moments we stole told me more than words ever could. It was messy and urgent and selfish. She became my refuge and my ruin. The tenderness I had once sold to survive became a liability I was suddenly proud to bear. When the scandal around Sebastian crescendoed, I didn’t hide behind the marriage or the name. I stepped into the light, shoulder to shoulder with her, exposed and fierce. I traded anonymity for that, truth wrapped in possession, and I, Mikayla Stonefield, would have done it again.

A lethal neurotoxin had taken hold of my lungs. My time is running out. My mother, Sofia, was the most connected lawyer in Palermo, excelling in burying crimes and twisting the law. When my brother Vincent mowed me down and shattered my leg, she called in every favor to clear his record. My father, Tommaso, the most feared private doctor in Sicily, faked my medical files, branding me unstable and delusional, all to mold me into the obedient son they needed. Then there was Lina, only daughter of Don Vitali, my wife. She said, “We let him out for Vincent’s liver. What if he says no?” Dad’s voice went cold. “He has two choices: lie quietly on that operating table… or waste away in the sanatorium for what’s left of his life.” I pushed the parlor door open, steady and slow. My voice was flat. “I’ll do it.” Every one of them let out a breath they’d been holding, showering me with hollow words. They didn’t know there was no life left to threaten. I had twenty-four hours. By sunrise, I would be dead either way. Funny… now that I’m in the ground, why are they all crying?

On the day of our mating ceremony, the moans of my fated mate, Alpha Liam, fucking a Stonecrest she-wolf named Kira in the locker room accidentally broadcasted to the entire pack. I stood at the altar, trembling, and cut the mic. I found Liam in tears, begging for an explanation. He just shielded Kira in his arms and glared at me. "If you hadn't left the microphone on, we wouldn't have been caught! An amnesiac stray orphan like you never deserved to be my Luna!" I became the laughingstock of the entire North. Just as I was about to be exiled, Jaxson Thorne—Alpha of the Stonecrest Pack—stepped in like a dark savior, his overwhelming aura shielding me from the humiliation. "I'll take her," he announced. With his support, I publicly rejected that betrayal-stained mate bond. For seven years, I was his declared Luna. He laid all the treasures of the North at my feet. Yet I never received the legendary Heart of the Moon pendant—the ultimate symbol of a Stonecrest Luna. I told myself Jaxson had his reasons. Seven years mated; he wouldn't hurt me. Until the Blood Moon Banquet, when I saw the Heart of the Moon resting on Kira's collarbone. She'd just returned to the pack. As she strutted toward me, provoking me, everyone expected me to cry and confront Jaxson. I didn't shed a single tear. I just pulled out my phone and texted my brother: "Come get me in three days." Jaxson didn't know—a month ago, I had recovered all my memories. I was no orphan. I was Ayla Valerius, sole Princess of the Royal Lycan bloodline that ruled the North. And my brother, the new Lycan King, was coming with the elite Royal Lycan Guard to burn this pack to the ground and take me home.

When the factory director’s son dragged my drunk fiancee into the supply warehouse, I pretended as if I did not see them. I just turned around and walked away. In the past, I had ruined my own future by rushing in and beating the factory director’s son up. I was even framed for stealing the supplies from the warehouse. When the warehouse keeper came over with the police officers, my fiancee deliberately ripped her own clothes. She cried and said that she came with the director to stop me from committing the crime, but I beat her up and even defiled her. Everyone despised me, and I became a criminal. My fiancee’s parents could not bear the rumors, and they forced me to marry her. But that marriage was only the start of a hellish life. She lived like a queen at home, yet she told everyone I was starving her. When she got pregnant, she deliberately pushed her belly against the corner of the table. Then, she stood in the courtyard and cried. She claimed I had abused her, and I wanted to kill my own baby. My parents felt bad for me, so they borrowed money from everyone they knew to get her a job. But when she landed on the job, she framed my father for stealing the steel from the factory. Half a year after my father was imprisoned, he passed away in jail due to an illness. My mother could not bear the stress and fell severely ill. She also passed away soon after. When I was pinned under the collapsed brick wall at the construction site, she did not call for help. Instead, she picked up a brick and smashed it into my head. “If you were not so nosy, Jeremy and I’d have been together already. We wouldn’t have wasted so much time!” My head bled, and I was buried beneath a pile of rubble. When I opened my eyes again, I was at the entrance of the supply warehouse. From inside, I heard my fiancee’s soft, teasing murmurs.