This book blends the mafia, werewolf, and contracted marriage troop to make a striking romantic and suspense-filled novel. Death or marriage! Tells the story of Janelle Ronan and her breathtaking, childhood crush, Truce King, a man who had always been rumoured to be anything but ordinary. Fate spins their romance into action when Truce's father is murdered and he’s forced to take over his father’s place as the next Mafia Godfather of the Inner Circle. The story takes a mysterious twist when Janelle and Ronan fall in love, but there’s a stumbling block, Truce’s true identity which is shockingly out of the norm and far from human. Janelle is faced with the task of revenge for the murder of the two men she had called father and loyalty and love for the mysterious Truce King. Compiled with the betrayal from trusted ones and a long bloody fight for survival. Would Janelle Ronan the stunning mafia bride, survive? There are only two outcomes for her in this novel. Victory or insanity, and in its wake, death.
View MoreJanelle’s POVThe dead don’t hunt the living - the living hunt the living. Fun fact, a hunter can always turn prey. But speaking of prey… What if I just got married to a predator?I come out of the massive bathroom, big enough to fit in a queen-sized bed with a towel wrapped around my head. I look at the large room in front of me and I almost feel intimidated. My room is large with cream-coloured high walls and bright silver chandeliers hanging gracefully from the intimidating ceiling.Truce had it furnished with everything I need. From heels and dresses to undies. I had barely needed to pack anything from home except myself, some old books, and some necessaries I wanted to hang on to.I head for the walk-in closet. I stand for a minute or two thinking of what to wear, cause at the moment, making a choice might be impossible. The wardrobe is furnished with really pretty dresses, and they just have to all be my style! How did he know?I laugh at my stupidity and pick a short purple dre
Janelle’s POVMy heart is pounding so hard.The officiant of our marriage is standing in a black tux with a happy expression. He had gushed over how much of a beautiful couple we were earlier so much that it had hurt my ears, and I had wanted to slap the stupid grin from his face.As Bella and I reach the end of the aisle, she hugs me. “Just five years and the deal is over. I’m so sorry you have to go through this, my love”, she whispers and presents me to Truce King whose hand is held out. I take the hand and we both stand in front of the marriage officiant.I look at Truce and he has his usual frozen expression on his face. He doesn’t look happy at all, despite the low cheers his three equally gorgeous and unusual friends are making as we’re about to start the exchange of vows. Despite the emotionless face, he doesn’t look even a tiny bit less handsome.Even though I don’t want this marriage, I can’t deny the fact that the groom is ravishingly handsome and so fucking hot!His beauti
Background voice “What happens to the property Theodore King willed Janelle if she is convicted for his murder, Christian?” A female voice asks, clearly enjoying herself.“Most jurisdictions have a "slayer rule" that prevents a murderer from inheriting property from their victim, meaning if the victim had named the murderer as a beneficiary in a will, they would be legally barred from receiving that inheritance,” a male voice replies.“Good. Then we can take back what was originally ours?”“Of course, my darling.”A kissing sound followed by the clicking of glasses is heard. Janelle's POV “Inmate 345, you have a visitor,” the female guard screams, banging on my cell’s metal door.I stare at her blankly, until one of the ugly, tall, skinny, tanned women sitting a few feet from me, lands me a hard kick on my back.“Are you deaf? Answer the screaming guard already and give us some peace.” The woman trembles as she speaks like her obvious bones which are visible under her very tanned s
“I’m never going to marry you.”Truce stares at me with a neutral expression, not seeming bothered by my strong rejection. He looks immaculately handsome in a well-tailored, crisp black suit. His hair is left to fall his back in a neat, silk wave, and his deadly handsome face is cold as ever. To be honest I’ve never seen a man hotter.Truce shruggles. “You stole my words.” His voice is deep and emotionless and his green eyes are as fiery as ever. I spot the dimples on both of his cheeks as he speaks. I remember very vividly when I could die to see those dimples. They sank in deeply whenever he spoke, a sharp contrast to his cold features. Without them, he would have looked even less human.“Focus, Janelle,” my inner voice chastises.I shake the thoughts of Truce off my mind and remind myself that I’m madly angry at him.I glare at Truce and the tall, handsome man standing behind his chair, who I assume to be his assistant.“What makes you think you have the right to show up in my li
Janelle’s POVI’ve always been a weird child, probably from birth. First I escaped my mother's womb with my hands, second while my friends and peers fantasized about fashion, games, movies, and boys, I preferred darker things like horrors, crimes, and life-risking adventures. Except of course when I fell for Truce King. But don’t get me wrong, every female I knew of was in awe of Truce’s beauty, plus, Truce King was never known to be a normal person.Skin white and glowy as milk, face handsome and deadly cold, eyes forest green and fiery, and hair black as a Raven’s, flowing down to his back. He was perfection.Speaking of Truce King, he might be a hint to this dark puzzle in front of me.I stare at the stone-cold dead body of Theodore King, a man who I have called father for the past ten years, a man who I had grown to love more than my biological father, and there’s just one thing going on in my head. Bloody revenge.Whoever did this to Theodore and my Father must pay.The door of
The presentJanelle’s POVMy grandmother always told me secrets are like zombies, they always come back to hunt you. I guess that may be the case for me right now.“I never saw him again.”My best friend May chuckles. “You sound like you’re talking about a ghost, Jane.”I flip through the medical file lying on my office desk, studying my patient’s chart. Ten years later, I’m no longer the fifteen-year-old naive girl from my flashback, though I still very much hate Truce King. I’m a successful neurosurgeon, wealthy enough, and I’m living my best life with my best friend, May and my sister Bella.My phone rings and I frown at the strange number. I pick up the call.“Hello?”“Is this Doctor Janelle Ronan”. The speaker’s voice sounds urgent and worried.May gives me a teasing face and I try not to laugh. I’m used to receiving strange calls from reporters asking to interview me on my most recent successful surgery, and I’m sure this is just one of them.“Yes.” “We just found your father
I’ve always believed in fairy tales like Prince Charmings and Mr Rights until the strange, drop-dead gorgeous loner I loved all my life turned me down without a backward glance…Ten years agoJanelle’s POVI watch through the blinding tears pouring down my eyes, my heart slamming against my chest as my father’s coffin is lowered into the ground and slowly covered with sand. The faint scent of coming rain and the strong smell of freshly dug soil fill the air and make me nauseous. My elder sister and the only surviving family member squeeze my arm reassuringly.My eyes hurt so bad from crying and my throat is patched and in pain from screaming. The cold evening wind blows strongly and I shiver despite my long, thick black coat.“It’s going to be fine, Janelle,” Bella, my seventeen-year-old older sister, says, squeezing my hands. I nod in agreement, though I hardly believe her comforting words.Father was gone and mother, ten years before him. What was going to happen to us? Two teenage
I’ve always believed in fairy tales like Prince Charmings and Mr Rights until the strange, drop-dead gorgeous loner I loved all my life turned me down without a backward glance…Ten years agoJanelle’s POVI watch through the blinding tears pouring down my eyes, my heart slamming against my chest as my father’s coffin is lowered into the ground and slowly covered with sand. The faint scent of coming rain and the strong smell of freshly dug soil fill the air and make me nauseous. My elder sister and the only surviving family member squeeze my arm reassuringly.My eyes hurt so bad from crying and my throat is patched and in pain from screaming. The cold evening wind blows strongly and I shiver despite my long, thick black coat.“It’s going to be fine, Janelle,” Bella, my seventeen-year-old older sister, says, squeezing my hands. I nod in agreement, though I hardly believe her comforting words.Father was gone and mother, ten years before him. What was going to happen to us? Two teenage...
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