Sold for $1 To The Hawthorne Brothers
Three women, three brothers, a single, crumpled dollar bill.
Alina's world shatters the moment she's auctioned off-and claimed by the powerful Hawthorne brothers.
Thrown into Adrian Hawthorne's cold, dangerous world, she becomes his to control... his to protect... and, terrifyingly, his to desire. He's ruthless, possessive, and hiding secrets that could destroy them both. But the deeper she falls into his world, the harder it becomes to tell if she's his prisoner-or something far more dangerous.
Because the Hawthorne brothers don't just take.
They keep.
Viviane has spent her life surviving, so when Julian Hawthorne "buys" her freedom, she knows better than to trust it. Men like him don't save people-they collect them. But Julian isn't as simple as he pretends to be, and the deeper she's pulled into his world, the more dangerous it becomes to walk away.
Especially when she realizes she might be the only thing he's ever been willing to fight for.
Lena doesn't belong to anyone-and she intends to keep it that way. Brilliant, guarded, and hiding more than anyone suspects, she enters Lucien Hawthorne's world on her own terms. But Lucien doesn't play fair, and he doesn't let go.
When her past comes crashing back, Lena is forced to face the one thing she's been running from: trusting someone who could destroy her... or save her.
Three women. Three choices.Stay. Fight.
Or burn it all down.
Because being sold was only the beginning.
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Chapter 13
My attempt to pull away from Adrian fails as his arm tightens around my waist. "Not so fast, Miss Wilson," he grunts softly. "Unless you want to end up with a concussion."
I try one more time, glaring at him when he doesn't budge. "What do you care? It would keep you from having to see me, wouldn't it? You won't have to bother about my lack of social etiquette and how much of a sore thumb I am."
My words slur as I speak, and the anger in my voice is nothing compared to how it sounds in my head.
Adrian's brow lifts a fraction as he leans closer. "Have you...been drinking?"
Duh? I shrug. "Why? I didn't get it from the bar, if that's what you're worried about. And I haven't assaulted any of your guests yet," I say snappily, sarcasm and frustration evident in my voice. "So, you can let me go now."
He doesn't.
He looks me over, his gaze tracing an invisible pattern from my face, over my lips that feel parched, and my dress-my chest, actually, with the gaping cleavage space. His jaw tightens as his eyes flare sharply with something too quick to name.
His arm falls away abruptly, but his presence has sucked away some of my inebriation, so I don't fall to the ground. I step back, thrusting my arms to my chest. "What? You're going to lecture me now on how much I can drink, by myself?"
"Your dress," he mutters, his voice coming out with a thick rasp. I scoff, ready to defend myself, but a soft breeze blows by, and I feel a patch of cold on my chest. Not the chill in the air, but a brush in one particular spot.
I glance down.
"Shit, shit!" I groan, turning around quickly to do damage control. Between my near kiss with death and Adrian's timely arrival, my dress...malfunctioned. The plunging space that was supposed to be in the middle had moved to one side, exposing my-
And he saw it.
Oh heavens, strike me dead now.
I wouldn't mind going this way, without doing anything on my list.
"I didn't see anything," Adrian says from behind me.
My face floods with embarrassment, and my cheeks turn so red I can feel the heat burning through them. "Please," I mumble, unable to muster anything beyond a whisper, "can you go? I'd like some space."
I hear footsteps retreating moments later, and my shoulders slump, a raw exhale slipping out of me, tears burning my eyes again. I yank the dress to its original position, but it slips away, refusing to cooperate.
I yank harder, and a loud rip fills the air.
I tore it.
It was supposed to be a beautiful dress, but I ruined it. "Stupid dress," I say, gritting my teeth to fight the tears. "Stupid party." It's my fault. I tried to be like them-the people who can actually afford expensive things and don't have to steal a bottle of rum.
My shoulders tremble as a thick sob catches in my throat. It burns as I shove it down, spreading through my chest like a punishing, icy fist. I wrap my arms around my stomach, staring off into the twinkling night sky. "What karma am I paying for? Was I such a terrible person in my past life that you've decided I don't deserve a break?"
"There's no such thing as karma."
A thick coat settles on my shoulders before I can turn. "Human beings take what they want."
My lips stretch into a thin smile as I face Adrian. "What would you say about me, then? That I'm too weak? That I should've been stronger, smarter-" my voice cracks with exhaustion and bitterness, "-and probably seen ahead of time that my stepfather was going to take everything I had?"
He says nothing for a minute, but his jaw flexes subtly, a muscle ticking there. He glances away for a moment, dragging a hand across his chin.
"Let's go."
"What?"
"Home. Let's go home."
I shake my head slowly, confused at his sudden decision. "Why? Isn't this your party? You're the host. I'm the one who wasn't invited. I can take an Uber or something."
Adrian's lips twitch as he chuckles. My eyes widen. It's the first time I've ever heard him laugh. Or do something close to it. "I don't care about the party, Alina. I couldn't give a fuck about the people in there, either. But I'm required to perform certain activities, to pretend as if I care about their vacations and beach homes, to keep my family's name on their lips."
"Oh..." I mutter.
He sighs softly. "And I doubt you'll be going anywhere with that dress. You're my excuse to call it a night."
I roll my eyes, but a tiny smile floats on my lips for a second. "I don't think it's fair to use me, Mr. Hawthorne, after I was so easily discarded just hours ago. That sounds very unfair."
"Hour," he corrects me without missing a beat. "And you had a few glasses from a scheming staff member to keep you company, didn't you?" He looks at me, his expression unreadable.
I squint.
It takes a second for it to click. "That was you?" My voice rises as I point a finger at him. "Why would you ban me from the bar, then?"
His shoulder tips in an imperceptible shrug. "I was saving you from a terrible situation. While you were wondering if you fit in, there were a handful of men staring at you...leering, I should add. None of them would've passed up the opportunity to take advantage of you, Alina."
Oh.
And because I feel silly now that he's pointed it out, I mutter again, "Oh."
Adrian nods. "Unfortunately, my world isn't kind to people who don't understand how it works. Which is why I forbade Julian from bringing you. I knew he was going to pull something tricky, and I wanted to be sure he wasn't going to use you."
So...the social etiquette, the comment on my ability to dance, and his cold attitude were to keep me from waking up in a stranger's bed tomorrow morning without knowing how I got there.
I blink slowly, my gaze to the floor, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, feeling thoroughly guilty. "I-" I lift my head, but he's already walking away.
"Try to keep up," he says, "or you might have to call the Uber after all. Or walk-" he throws me a look over his shoulder, "-you did say you could walk to your uni."
I just-
I was about to take back everything I thought about him tonight. "Ugh." I roll my eyes hard, scoffing under my breath. Adrian Hawthorne is irredeemable.
There's another car waiting for us, with a chauffeur holding the door open. Adrian gets into the back seat, and I start to go forward when the chauffeur's hand shoots out. "I'm sorry, Miss Wilson, but Mr. Hawthorne insists that you ride with him at the back."
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9.4
Michael Carter is an undercover FBI agent on a mission to take down ruthless mafia king Fernando Ramírez-the man he believes killed his sister. But getting close to Fernando means playing a dangerous game, one where seduction and power blur the lines between enemy and lover.
When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming.
Love has never been more lethal.
9.1
My husband, Dante Moretti, the feared Underboss, signed the divorce papers I slipped him without a glance. Too busy texting his true love, Sofia, he was blind to the annulment decree ending everything. The Reaper couldn't see the death of his own marriage.
For three years, I was Elena, his silent wife, the "Caged Canary," cleaning his messes while meticulously planning my escape from our loveless world.
He dismissed me for Sofia's every whim, publicly shaming me after a past love letter was read, then abandoning me again for her fake crisis.
That night, he violently shoved me against a wall, leaving me bleeding and concussed, rushing instead to protect Sofia. Discarded and injured, my invisible love became a weapon against me.
His crushing blindness, the cold realization I was a mere placeholder, fueled a profound injustice. How could he be so lethal, yet oblivious to his wife, favoring the one who betrayed him?
With chilling resolve, I uploaded Sofia's confession, initiated a massive financial transfer dismantling his empire, and staged my own death. Under a new identity, I fled to San Francisco, ready to build my power, far from his bloody, deceitful world.
7.7
I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen.
But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg.
She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini.
"I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog."
Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull.
Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage.
She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic.
"He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!"
When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever.
My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust.
I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle.
I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes.
This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.
8.1
Red Moon
8.1
Blood Moon – Story Description
Blood Moon is a dark, thrilling tale of forbidden attraction, supernatural rivalry, and the fine line between predator and prey. Set in the seemingly ordinary Silver Hollow College, the story unfolds in a world where vampires and werewolves secretly coexist alongside humans, each hiding their true powers while battling their own instincts, rival clans, and the pressures of legacy. In this shadowed world, every glance can hide a threat, every conversation can carry hidden meaning, and every full moon can unleash the beast within.
At the heart of the story are Catrine Nella, a powerful young vampire, and Edwardo Zee, a disciplined yet conflicted werewolf. Catrine is sharp, cunning, and deadly, raised under the constant pressure of her ambitious step-sister who insists she feed on human blood to grow stronger. Catrine's natural talents in both magic and combat make her a force to be reckoned with, yet she struggles with morality, identity, and her own desire for control. Edwardo, on the other hand, is torn between his instincts as a wolf and the manipulations of his ruthless step-brother, who demands that he become a killer to claim alpha status. Edwardo wants to be a true alpha, not through bloodshed, but by protecting others and leading with honor-an ambition that sets him apart from his family and makes him both a target and a misfit among his kind.
The story begins with a violent, electrifying encounter between Catrine and Edwardo in the forest during the full moon. Both are drawn by their own impulses-Catrine performing a vampire ritual, Edwardo struggling to control the wolf within-and the resulting clash is fierce, brutal, and unforgettable. This first meeting ignites a dangerous rivalry, with each recognizing the other's extraordinary abilities while also sensing something forbidden and magnetic between them. Though enemies by instinct and heritage, the connection they forge amidst conflict sets the stage for a tension-filled enemies-to-lovers narrative that drives the series forward.
As the story unfolds, Silver Hollow College becomes a battlefield not just of physical strength but of intellect, cunning, and emotional power. Catrine and Edwardo test one another constantly-through subtle glances in class, tense encounters in crowded hallways, and increasingly dangerous confrontations in the forest. Each battle pushes them further, revealing vulnerabilities and strengths, and slowly transforms their relationship from animosity into fascination, grudging respect, and eventually, desire. Amidst this, both characters are confronted with the pressures of their families. Catrine's step-sister threatens her with weakness if she does not feed on human blood, while Edwardo's step-brother pressures him toward ruthless dominance, creating a constant tension that challenges their morality and tests the limits of their powers.
At its core, Blood Moon is a story about choice and identity. It explores the struggle between instinct and conscience, power and restraint, hatred and attraction. It examines what it means to be strong-not just physically, but emotionally and morally-in a world where strength often comes at the cost of humanity. Through fast-paced action, supernatural intrigue, and the slow-burning, dangerous pull between Catrine and Edwardo, the story blends romance, suspense, and fantasy into a gripping narrative. It is a saga of blood and moonlight, of predators and secrets, of rivalry and passion, and of two young supernatural beings whose lives are forever intertwined by fate, desire, and the power of the Blood Moon.
9.6
I was only three and a half years old, living in a damp basement and beaten daily by Enoch Pruitt with a heavy leather whip.
"Get up, you useless waste of space!"
He always told me I was a stray he had picked out of the garbage.
But during one brutal beating that nearly stopped my heart, time froze, and a glowing figure called The Chronicler appeared.
"You are not an abandoned orphan, Clare. You carry the blood of the highest gods."
He revealed that I was the stolen daughter of the ultra-wealthy Barrett family.
Then, he showed me the horrific ending of my previous life.
I had died right here on this bloody dirt floor.
My real parents and three brothers went completely insane with grief, turning into ruthless monsters who destroyed themselves and the entire world to avenge me.
Meanwhile, the Pruitt family kept torturing me, locking me in a woodshed and feeding me moldy bread.
The memory of my bones breaking and my real mother's agonizing screams crushed my chest.
Why did I have to suffer like an animal while my true family tore the world apart looking for me?
This time, I refused to die in the mud.
I accepted my divine blood, my eyes glowing gold as I summoned a bolt of purple lightning to strike my abuser.
I just needed to survive the night.
Because my real father's heavily armed convoy was already tearing up the mountain, ready to burn this hell to the ground.
8.6
Alia bought her four-million-dollar Manhattan townhouse in cash the day before she married Jerel.
For three years, she worked eighty-hour weeks as a top architect to build their life, until an anonymous text shattered her reality.
It was a high-definition photo of her husband kissing his junior partner, followed by an eight-week ultrasound.
Alia didn't scream. She went home, only to find her mother-in-law throwing IVF brochures at her, screaming that she was a selfish, barren workaholic for not giving the family an heir.
Jerel played the perfect, gentle husband, wrapping his arms around her and urging her to rest.
But later that night, Alia caught them on a secret call with a lawyer.
They were plotting to blindside her with a divorce, claiming his minor financial contributions entitled him to the property, aiming to kick her out with a measly fifty-thousand-dollar settlement.
They wanted to steal her hard-earned home to raise his pregnant mistress's child.
Alia's jaw tightened until her teeth ached. She had paid for every single inch of that estate.
Did they really think her dedication to her career made her blind, weak, and easy to destroy?
She didn't shed a single tear.
Instead, she walked into the office of the city's most ruthless private equity billionaire and struck a dangerous deal to lock away all her assets in an irrevocable trust.
Days later, when Jerel handed her the settlement with a fake, sympathetic smile, Alia poured cold black coffee directly over the ink.
"Tell Tiffany she is never stepping foot inside my house," Alia said smoothly. "I'll see you in court."