284 Book(s) Related to Me

I thought winning the lottery would save our family. I never imagined it would destroy it.
When Colton held up that $3 million lottery ticket, I cried with relief—no more struggling with rent, finally our kids could have a good life. I even threw a BBQ to celebrate with all our trailer park neighbors.
But he stood on that picnic table and announced to everyone: "Winning this money made me realize I've been settling for a life that's too small. Brandi, I want a divorce."
Then a blonde nail salon worker who looked barely 22 stepped out of a red Camaro: "Hi everyone, I'm Raven, his new girlfriend."
What broke my heart more was my 15-year-old daughter Skylar choosing to go with her father: "Mom, I'm tired of being poor, tired of people calling us trailer trash."
Overnight, I lost my husband, my daughter, my home, even my job. At 33, I was sleeping on my friend's couch with my 8-year-old son, the laughingstock of the entire town.
But when I discovered this nail technician's true identity, everything changed...

I thought I was proving my love when my husband claimed his billionaire family required a "loyalty test"—watching him fake an affair with his pregnant ex-girlfriend for a year. I endured public humiliation, served wine to his mistress at charity galas, and even terminated my own pregnancy because he said it would "complicate the test."
But when I discovered the truth, everything changed. There was no loyalty test. There never had been. The fifteen billion dollar inheritance was already his. The whole charade was just his elaborate plan to gaslight me into disappearing quietly so he could start fresh with Victoria and their baby.
Too bad for him, I graduated summa cum laude from Columbia Business School. And I've been planning my revenge for months.

I thought returning to wealth meant happiness. I was wrong—it was the entrance to hell.
My celebrity husband Ryan uses me as his personal punching bag every night, calling it "method acting." Meanwhile, my perfect sister Stella whispers in his ear: "Ruby did everything during her street years. You need to show her where she belongs."
When I called for help while holding my three-year-old Lily, crying, my family only said: "Tonight is Stella's Golden Globe night. Stop causing drama."
On that final night, as the rope tightened around my neck, I finally understood—
I should never have came home.
Three days after my death, they finally stepped into the mansion. Not to save me, but to confront me about my "disappearance."
Until Lily's trembling finger pointed at that sandbag...

I Thought He Was Dumping Me, So I Asked for the Breakup Settlement First

On my birthday night, Ethan filled the apartment with candles and held out a three-tiered pink cake, his eyes softer than I'd ever seen.

Three years. From the day I saved this broken man off the streets to watching him become a CEO worth hundreds of millions. Three years of him never saying "I love you," never defining what we were.

Until this morning, when I saw the text on his phone:

Sophia: I'm back in the country. Want to see you.

His ex-girlfriend. Perfect, successful, in his league—Sophia.

So when he asked "What do you want for your birthday," I understood—he was negotiating a breakup settlement.

"A two-bedroom apartment downtown," I said. "That way it'll be easier for you going forward."

His face went white.

The cake slammed onto the table. He walked out. Three days of silence.

I shoved that cake to the back of the fridge, couldn't throw it away—just like I couldn't let him go.

Until he saw me having coffee with another guy and stormed in, furiously writing a check to eliminate his "rival."

Until he shoved his phone in my face: "Look at what she actually said!"

Until he asked: "Do you know what was hidden inside that cake?"

I didn't just ruin a birthday.

I ruined the surprise he'd spent a month planning.

Two girls—one white and one black—switch bodies. Can they find common ground?  High school seniors, Natalia Brown and Elizabeth Castillo, live very different lives. Natalia’s wild-girl reputation is legendary, while Elizabeth’s artistic abilities gather dust in the shadows.In a twist of fate, these two very different girls switch bodies. Forced to put their mutual hatred aside, they must work together to convince the world nothing has changed while trying to return themselves to normal. But living in each other's bodies reveals secrets and scars they'd both tried to hide.Will they be able to fool the world and switch back? Or will they both destroy each other's lives before returning to their own? If You Were Me is a heartwarming body-swap novel set in Belize. It explores the meaning of love and the power of friendship.

Seven years ago, I left him while carrying his child.

That night, I had a reservation ready to tell him we were having a baby. He texted about a last-minute audition. Then I saw him on TMZ having candlelit dinner with a producer's daughter.

So I walked away. Had Mia alone. Built a gallery in Portland under a fake name. Four years of pretending the past never happened.

Until he showed up at my door, saying he was Noah's uncle.

Those eyes—left one blue, right one green—matched my daughter's exactly.

He said he'd been searching for seven years. That he studied my paintings every night. That he'd been living across the street, watching over me in secret.

I should've slammed the door.

But when the world called me a fraud, when I stood accused in Paris with cameras everywhere, he flew five thousand miles to tell everyone: "She's my wife. Mia's mother."

Seven years ago, he made me hide in shadows. Seven years later, he dragged me into the spotlight.

The question is—do I dare trust him again?

I thought the day I put on that wedding dress would be the most beautiful moment of my life.

Until I heard my fiancé Marcus talking to his mistress in the next fitting room—"Does she really believe you love her?" "Of course she believes it. Sophia's so damn naive, I just gotta say some romantic bullshit and she gets all teary-eyed and grateful."

In that moment, my world shattered completely. Three years of romance, all just a calculated business merger. He didn't want me—he wanted the Ashford family trust fund.

What destroyed me even more was discovering that even my only family—my stepbrother Damien—was part of this deal. In their eyes, I was nothing but a pawn to save the family's financial crisis.

Betrayed by the two men I loved most, I chose the most extreme way out—faking my death on my wedding day.

Five years later, when I returned to Boston as Victoria Sterling, I was no longer that naive little princess of the Ashford family. I was an investment queen controlling billions of dollars. I came back not to forgive, but to make everyone who betrayed me pay the price they deserved.

Marcus, do you remember that girl who "died" at your wedding altar? She's back to settle the score.

A stormy night. A broke barista. One rescued Golden Retriever that cost Winter her last penny.

Plot twist: the dog belongs to Hollywood heartthrob Dylan Carter.

"Hand over my dog!" he demands, but the Golden Retriever won't budge from Winter's side, whimpering at its own master like a heartbroken child.

Then comes the curveball—$10K a month to live in his Malibu mansion as the dog's personal caretaker. From rags to riches overnight.

But what's with the mind games? Steamy midnight swims, almost-kisses that turn into cold shoulders... What is this man's endgame?

My name is Mira Sawyer, an orphan adopted by the Rossi mafia family.

The night I was kidnapped, the captor pressed a gun to my temple and told Marco over video: "Five million dollars, or she dies."

I watched Marco Rossi—heir to New York's mafia empire—laugh with a blonde in his arms: "Keep her. Maybe she'll finally learn I don't want a pathetic puppy following me around."

Ten years of waiting, shattered at gunpoint.

Then the warehouse exploded.

Through the smoke walked a man in a black coat, eyes colder than death itself. Three shots. Three bodies. He stopped in front of me: "Nobody touches what's mine to protect."

That night changed everything.

The next day, I returned to the manor and saw him descending the stairs. Marco's face went white:

"Uncle Luca?! You're back from Sicily?!"

The legendary killer, exiled for twelve years. The real power behind the Rossi family. Marco's uncle.

He was the man who saved me.

And in that warehouse, I'd already become his.

If someone had told me that my last month at UCLA would get completely turned upside down by a stolen kiss, I would've laughed in their face. But now I'm staring at three guys I've known for years, and one of them kissed me in the blackout. The worst part? My heart races differently for each of them. Dylan makes me feel safe, Cameron makes me feel alive, Jake makes me feel like myself. With graduation looming and my overprotective brother conducting background checks on all three, I have one week to figure out who stole that kiss—and who I want to kiss back.

I thought ten years of childhood sweethearts could weather any storm.

Until that night when Charles rushed out after her call, leaving me alone in bed with his child growing inside me, not knowing how to tell him.

Seraphina Blackwood, tech dynasty heiress, threatened Charles with her father's billion-dollar empire to marry her. And me? Just an orphan girl who seemed to mean nothing in Silicon Valley's power games.

When I watched him remove our wedding ring, when I saw their sweet photos at the hospital, when I lay bleeding on the floor and he chose her... I finally understood that maybe love really can't survive against money.

But what I didn't know was that while I started my new life in Switzerland, there was a man secretly protecting me with his kidney, his heart, his everything...

Until his assistant appeared at my little bakery, desperation in his eyes: "Ms. Thorne, please, you have to save him!"

I just wanted to meet my little brother's new girlfriend at Thanksgiving dinner. I didn't expect Crystal to accuse me in front of our entire family: "Scarlett's been seducing Phoenix! She's 31 and single because she's obsessed with her brother!" Worse yet, Phoenix was actually considering believing her. When Crystal started demanding my mom wash her underwear, I knew it was time to fight back.

The sunset over Portland looks like something out of a postcard tonight. Too bad I won't be around to see many more of them.

Six months. That's what Dr. Martinez gave me this afternoon. Stage four stomach cancer, spreading fast. I sat in my car in the hospital parking lot for an hour afterward, trying to figure out who I'm supposed to call with news like this.

My phone buzzes—my brother, right on time. "You missed Dad's birthday dinner. Again." His voice has that familiar edge, the one that's been there since we were kids. Since Mom died giving birth to me twenty-four years ago.

He doesn't ask where I was. Doesn't ask if I'm okay. Just launches into the same old guilt trip about family obligations and responsibility. I want to tell him about the diagnosis, but what's the point? He's spent my entire life wishing it had been me instead of Mom.

Karen used to say I never grew up, that I was always playing the victim. Easy words from someone who never had to live with being the reason their mother died. She never saw the panic attacks, never noticed how I flinched when people raised their voices, never asked about the scars on my arms.

Now I'm dying, and I can't stop wondering—will anyone actually miss me? Or will they just feel relieved that the family burden is finally gone?

In the moment flames consumed her, Maya heard the cruelest truth—she had been betrayed by the one she loved most, sacrificed for an insurance fraud scheme.

Death was not the end.

Reborn seven days before her murder, Maya gets a second chance to change everything. Yet nothing prepares her for the shocking discovery: Connor, the brother she'd rejected and abandoned, has been her guardian all along—watching, controlling, protecting her with an obsession that borders on madness.

This isn't twisted control. This is love born from hell itself.

I saved Frank from an avalanche. He paid me back by locking me at home with a pregnancy monitor and a salt-free diet. When he announced to the world on television that he was single, causing me to miscarry in a blizzard that very night, I knew this man was beyond saving.
So, I made him drink a potion that erases memory. Now, he has completely forgotten me, his wife, and our dead child.
And my greatest revenge is to stand here, watching him kneel madly in every heavy snow, desperately searching for the woman he personally killed.
I am the woman he will never find.

When I scrolled across that photo of Tyler with his arms wrapped around Rachel at 2 AM, I nearly shattered my phone against the wall. That bastard—maintaining our "just scratching an itch" arrangement while wooing her with soulmate bullshit?

With anger burning through my veins and my skin flushing hot, I stormed off to the jazz bar determined to expose him.

But who could have guessed that in the middle of this dramatic showdown, I'd discover the truth about Seth—the one secretly marking up my sheet music, the one who decked Tyler for me?

Maybe this gut-wrenching betrayal was actually the universe's twisted way of pointing me toward something real.

A twenty-dollar thrift store blanket connected me to a billionaire's mind.

I'm Isadora Miller—broke Brooklyn art student who accidentally bought a psychic link to Raphael Ashford, Manhattan's most eligible heir. I could hear his thoughts, feel his touch, control his every sensation.

What started as curiosity became obsession. What began as power became love.

But when you're nobody from nowhere and he's worth three hundred billion dollars, when his family threatens to destroy you and society says you don't belong—loving someone means knowing when to let them go.

Until he's willing to lose everything to keep you.R

"Get out! You AIDS-riddled whore!"

Father pointed at the door, Mother shrieked curses, my sister Emily cried trying to hold me back. But no one knew, I didn't have AIDS. I had stage 4 pancreatic cancer.

On a freezing October night, I was thrown out barefoot in my pajamas. Huddled under a bridge, I planned to return tomorrow with hospital proof, proof it was cancer, not AIDS.

Tomorrow they'll believe me. Tomorrow everything will be okay.

But when that man's shadow loomed over me, I suddenly realized—

Some people were never meant to have a tomorrow.

The day someone stuffed a rancid, oil-dripping sandwich into my locker, splattering my uniform, I understood—no one here saw me as human.
My stepsister crushed my fallen lunch under her heel, laughing at how "pathetic" I was. In chemistry class, they all watched as I rattled around alone in the corner. Even my so-called best friend mocked me, fake-sobbing into a book—"Mommy, I miss you so much"—mimicking my most vulnerable moment for everyone's entertainment.

Until I climbed to the school roof, one step from jumping, when my phone suddenly rang: "Want to make them beg for forgiveness?"

I was going to kill my mother.
Alpha Garrett—the third "suitable match" she'd arranged this month—was lecturing me about my future like I was livestock being appraised.
"You're young and healthy. Perfect for breeding. At least three pups, I think." He gestured with his fork. "You'll need to quit that little job at the archives. Focus on pack duties. And no more wasting money on cosmetics and fancy clothes."
An Omega's place is supporting her Alpha, he said, like he was bestowing ancient wisdom instead of recycling prehistoric garbage.
That's when I snapped.
"I can't marry you," the words exploded out of me. "I'm already marked."
The café went dead silent. Garrett's face turned red. And I realized I'd just told the stupidest lie of my life.
Until a dangerously familiar voice spoke from directly behind me.
Kael Nightshade—Alpha of our pack, my boss, the wolf who made grown Betas stammer—was suddenly there, silver eyes locked on mine.
And then he did something that changed everything: he looked Garrett dead in the eye and said, "I don't take kindly to people disrespecting my mate."

My name is Aria Storm, Delta warrior of Silvercrest Pack.

My parents died protecting this territory. The only reason I stayed was my fiancé—Alpha heir Damien Blackwood.

I never expected that Serena, the pitiful Omega who arrived three months ago claiming to flee an abusive ex, would become the knife that shattered my life.

And I especially didn't expect that just one week ago, when the doctor told me my battle wounds might make me infertile, Damien held me tight and whispered, "I only want you. Children don't matter."

Until that day—

Fresh from training, I carried two cups of coffee toward Damien's office, hoping to surprise my overworked Alpha.

Through the half-open door, I heard her sickeningly sweet voice:

"Damien, the baby's kicking. Feel it."

For three years, Gabriel forced me to watch myself rot in a cursed mirror, whispering: "This is the real you."

I tried using Jasper as withdrawal medication. I rewrote scripts with Orion. I endured every humiliation thinking it would set me free.

But every man who claimed to save me was just another puppeteer.

Gabriel wanted my soul. Jasper wanted a tool. Orion wanted his mission completed.

They all thought they were writing my story...

When I woke up in the hospital after the crash, I croaked "Bro" at my brother. He stared back like I was a stranger and coldly shot back, "I'm not your brother."

Even more bizarre, he pointed at some guy with an IV stand and said, "That's your brother." I clutched my sheets, faking amnesia, and followed this "fake brother" home, only to discover his leukemia medication and hear him coughing blood in the middle of the night.

Caught between my real brother's rejection and my "fake brother's" fragility, I'm spinning a web of lies between two "brothers"—where will this case of mistaken identity drag me?

At the Met Gala, I heard my husband tell his friends in French that I'm "boring." That his 22-year-old girlfriend is "so much more exciting in bed."

He laughed when they asked if I knew. "Elle ne comprend même pas 'bonjour'." (She doesn't even understand 'bonjour'.)

What Marcus doesn't know: I spent two years at the Sorbonne.

Je comprends tout, Marcus. I understand everything.

The diamond necklace he gave me after my miscarriage suddenly feels too tight. I smile at him across the champagne and candlelight.

He has no idea what's coming.

I thought I saved him.
Six years ago, Marcus came back from Afghanistan broken, traumatized, plagued by nightmares. I was his therapist, walked him through every panic attack, broke every professional rule to fall for my own patient.
"Age is just a number," he used to say. "You saved my life, Sophia."
Now he tells his friends I'm "stale," that I'm too old at thirty-six, that my face shows wrinkles.
When I saw the bank transfers to Emma Wilson, when I discovered this 25-year-old grad student looks like a younger me, when I realized they're using my money for couples therapy workshops...
My hands are shaking.
Not from fear. From rage.
I thought I saved a broken man. Now I understand I just raised a monster.
He forgot one thing—
I still remember how to destroy a person.

Six years ago, I left him to protect him, letting him believe I betrayed him for money.

Six years later, when I thought I could quietly slip back into New York, I discovered I'd already fallen into the web he'd carefully woven around me—my job, my apartment, even my mother's medical bills, everything was under his control.

"Welcome home, Irene. This time, you're not going anywhere."

Ronald Ashworth was no longer the college boy who'd drop to his knees begging me to stay. He'd become a Wall Street finance mogul who could control everything, an obsessive man willing to fight the entire world to keep me.

He said he'd give me freedom, but I'd never escape his reach.
He said he'd cage me in silk and worship me like a queen.

The crash four years ago killed my parents and stole my memories. When I woke up, Gino was holding my hand, crying: "Thank god you're awake." He told me it was an accident, a drunk driver. He swore he'd help me find the killer.

I believed him for four years.

Until that weekend in Napa, when I overheard a conversation I was never meant to hear.

"You crashed your car chasing after me four years ago, you can't have forgotten!" his stepsister Ivy screamed. My blood ran cold. Four years ago? The exact night my parents died?

Three years of passion between the sheets, three years of sweet promises—all just foreplay to the perfect betrayal.

When Felix publicly declared Scarlett Wilson as his "artistic partner," when he said dating someone "at my level" would be "professional suicide," I finally understood—I was nothing but his stepping stone to the Wilson family fortune, a used rag to be discarded.

Even more pathetic? The bitch who stole my man wasn't satisfied with just that. She had to destroy my art career too. Plagiarism accusations, vicious smears, "accidental" artwork destruction... Scarlett Wilson used her family's power to systematically push me into the abyss, wanting to make sure I'd never hold my head up in the art world again.

Did she think I'd just take it like some pathetic victim?

Wrong.

When I played that recording of her confessing to every single crime under the Whitney Museum's spotlights; when the entire art world watched this "socialite princess" screaming hysterical denials; when Tate Modern personally invited me to exhibit and Gagosian Gallery offered me a $500K guarantee—

That's what total destruction looks like.

But the most satisfying part? Watching Felix's pathetic transformation: from the arrogant gallery owner to a broken man in wrinkled shirts, begging for my forgiveness. When he cried, "I've lost everything, please give me another chance," all I wanted to tell him was—

Fuck off. You're not worth it.

Eric Kane married me when I was at my most desperate.

Everyone said this Alpha only married me to get revenge for my sister's betrayal.

For three years, I rejected all his marking requests, telling myself this was just a transaction.

Until that phone call came, he died on his way home.

He left me a phone with a video inside.

I gently tapped it open to hear his tender yet desperate voice. He said:
"Tessa, could you love me just a little bit? Even just a little would be enough."
"If there's a next life, maybe you could tell me the answer? Maybe in that life, we could become true mates?"

I killed myself at his grave, but when I opened my eyes again, I found myself lying in my old bed.

And the time on my phone showed eight years before Eric and I got married.

On my wedding night, my husband Tyler pushed me onto the poker table as his final bet.

"She's just a retard anyway—perfect for getting rid of a problem," he sneered.

That moment, I thought my life was completely over.

Until the man in the delivery uniform won me, gently called me "princess," and filled his tiny apartment with pink dresses just for me.

I thought I'd found a kind, poor guy.

I thought this was the only warmth in my pathetic life.

Until that day at the TED conference, when five hundred million viewers watched him walk onto the stage, and the big screen displayed "Phantom AI Founder, Net Worth: $52 Billion"...

Tyler was on his knees, sobbing: "Please spare our family..."

And my "delivery boy" stroked my hair, saying: "Emma, I built this empire to be worthy of you someday."

"They taught me that love was supposed to be unconditional. That mothers always forgive. That family comes first, no matter what.

They were wrong.

I was Emily Thompson—veterinarian, wife, mother. I gave up my career to support my husband's failing farm. I spent eight years nursing my asthmatic son, building a life around their needs, sacrificing my dreams for their comfort.

Then they chose a stranger over me.

When a beautiful liar claiming cancer came into our home, my husband believed her over his wife of eight years. My eight-year-old son wished she was his real mother. They traded me for a fraud, and expected me to quietly disappear.

Instead, I chose myself.

Some women forgive. Some women fight for their families. Some women break down and beg for a second chance.

I became the woman who builds an empire from the ashes of betrayal.

I thought I had married the love of my life, until I discovered he planned to use my womb as a sacrifice for his mistress.

For five years, I gave Dax everything—my brilliance, my body, my soul. I believed we were building a future together, trying for the baby that would complete our Silicon Valley fairy tale.

Then I overheard the conspiracy that shattered my world: defective embryos implanted in my body, followed by a hysterectomy disguised as "medical complications." All to clear the path for Ada and their "perfect heir."

In that moment, I realized I had never been his wife—I was just a disposable vessel.

But they made one fatal mistake: they underestimated the fury of a betrayed woman with an MIT degree and nothing left to lose.

Love had made me blind, but betrayal made me brilliant.

"Ryan, I'm dying. One month left. Can you handle my corpse?"

Three years ago, we fell in love in a Baghdad field hospital.
Three years later, I'm waiting to die in a shabby Manhattan apartment.

He thought I betrayed him for money, hated me for three whole years.
I thought he'd never forgive me, buried the truth for three whole years.

When the diagnosis arrived, when the death countdown began, I finally found the courage to dial the number I'd blocked for three years.

"You deserve to die." That was the first thing he said when he answered.

But then, why did he show up at my door thirty minutes after hanging up?
Why did he break down when he saw my parents' death certificates?

when the truth finally surfaces, there's no time left.

Is one month enough to say a proper goodbye?

Young, 18-year-old Laeticia Martinez falls in love with her father's friend slash co-worker, Officer Lukas Evans, after several unexpected yet dangerously enticing encounters with the man, both giving in to their building and very straining attraction towards each other. They fall prey to their passion for one another, sneaking up behind her parents and his friend's back to having their lewd and steaming sessions of hot sex.
However, Mr. Hot and Sexy Officer have a big and terrifying secret of his own. What will happen when Letty accidentally discovers what it is? Will she stay with him, or will she run away?