May I Ask For One Final Thing Novels & Stories

After a devastating breakup with Zane his unfaithful ex boyfriend, and the collapse of his family, Jude’s world couldn’t get more complicated — until it does. A drunken night leaves him waking up in a stranger’s bed, with no memory of how he got there. Oliver claims he only helped, but Jude doesn’t believe a word. Then the unthinkable happens: Oliver walks through his front door, introduced as the son of his father’s new girlfriend. Forced to live under the same roof, Jude’s suspicion grows — and so does the pull between them. But the closer they get, the more tangled the lies become. Some connections were never meant to happen. Some are impossible to escape.

For the last ten years, Zack Riley– the delinquent, school bully– had been mercilessly teasing Anna Reece– the sweet, nerdy girl everyone liked. But one day that all changed… Due to jealous possession, Zack confessed the feeling he had been hiding since they were children. Can this misled boy work through his own psychological trauma and be boyfriend material? Can Anna work through her trust issues and look past her past with deceitful boys, to accept Zack’s feelings? Yes, and yes, in fact, these two unexpected characters, manage to build a bond stronger that most bonds. They share a connection so deep, some might say that it is fate.

Thor and I grew up together—we were the definition of childhood sweethearts. We'd promised to attend the same university, graduate, and marry right after senior year. Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match, destined for a lifetime together. And I believed that too. I truly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. Until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina joined our class. At first, the two barely spoke. But as they grew familiar, their bond deepened in ways I could no longer ignore. He started staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for a drive along the coast. If she craved Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd quietly prepare everything she needed. I was furious. I confronted him, argued with him, and even threatened to break up. The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and coaxed me out of my anger. The second time, he dismissed it as another tantrum and tried different ways to please me. The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house in the pouring rain all night, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness. Again and again, I tried to leave, and every time, he refused to let me go. Yet with each reconciliation, something in him shifted. He started taking me for granted, assuming I would always come back. His patience wore thin. His apologies turned perfunctory. Even when he came to make peace, there was no sincerity left in his voice. So I said it for the hundredth time, and that was the last. That was the moment I finally gave up on him.

I was three months pregnant when my fiancé left me to marry his first love, Isabella Thompson. Soon after, I was in a car accident. I survived, but our baby didn't. My childhood friend, Daniel Smith, found out and insisted on marrying me despite his family's objections. He spent a fortune on the best doctors to ensure I recovered fully. Later, he arranged a grand proposal, confessing he had loved me for years. I was touched and agreed to marry him. But three years later, I overheard his conversation with his friend, Mike Perez. "Remember years ago when Isabella stole Jessica's fiancé? To avoid any future trouble for Isabella, you married Jessica and even caused that car accident, which killed the baby she was carrying. Now, can she even get pregnant anymore?" Mike asked. "No, I love Isabella," Daniel replied. "I just didn't want to have any babies with Jessica, so I put birth control in her water." I trembled, unable to believe what I had heard. It turned out Isabella was also Daniel's first love. I figured it was time for me to leave.

On their third anniversary, Finley had all their friends over to celebrate. Claire walked in to find him on one knee, proposing to his childhood friend, Renee. "What is going on?" she asked. He shrugged like it was nothing. "It's just a game of truth or dare." But it wasn't until he shoved her down the stairs, causing her to miscarry, that she finally woke up. She'd given him five chances. Now? She was done. "Finley, it's over. Let's get divorced."

My husband's brother dies before my husband and I marry. My mother-in-law has never liked me, and my husband is a mommy's boy. He listens to her when she forces him to remain in mourning for his brother—within the next three years, we can only register our marriage but not have a wedding. To help his widowed sister-in-law past these difficult times, my husband runs over to her place every few days, leaving me alone at home. Anyone who isn't in the know would think I'm the widow! My scheming sister-in-law even tells her child to address my husband as their father instead of uncle. I sneer. "How shameless of you to want your brother-in-law to care for two families at once. Thank goodness the child in my womb doesn't have such a disgusting father."

"Velda Griffin is suspected to have allied with the rogues to harm Sienna Armstrong, the Luna-to-be. Today, she shall be sentenced to a memory trial." The huge memory crystal glints coldly on the tribunal. My ex-fiance, Alpha Lorcan Cillian of the Moonshadow pack, maintains an arrogant expression. There's nothing but disgust in his eyes. "All of the vile things that you've done shall be reflected on the memory crystal. Let the entire pack witness your true colors, you filthy bitch!" Sienna reclines against Lorcan's body, a smug smile etched on her face. She thinks my reputation will be completely tarnished. Although my limbs are bound with silver chains, a faint, relieved smile has appeared on my pale face. "Are you sure you want to see my memories, Lorcan? Once you start… there's no turning back."

Before my death, I repeatedly remind my son, Clark Sinclair, what to do after I pass away. I stress that my heart must be donated to my husband, Craig Sinclair. He has suffered from dilated cardiomyopathy for 30 years. This is the last thing I can do for him. Clark shakes me off impatiently and snaps, "Enough. Stop pretending to be kind. Dad was never sick." I think I must have misheard him. "What?" He lets out a cold laugh and continues, "If you hadn't refused to divorce him all these years, why would he have needed to fake an illness just to be with Vern in secret?" My whole body trembles as I demand proof. Clark hands me a marriage certificate. On it are the names Craig and Verna Bloom, my widowed sister-in-law. The two lean against each other intimately, smiling sweetly at the camera. In an instant, rage and grief overwhelm me. The family I spend half my life building turns out to be nothing more than a complete lie. Clark continues expressionlessly, "Actually, Vern is my real mother. Your child was drowned in a bathtub long ago. Back then, Dad and Vern couldn't resist each other. She went into premature labor and nearly bled to death. She gave birth to me on the same day you gave birth. "Dad was so frightened that he developed heart palpitations. He was afraid you'd never stop causing trouble if you found out, so he pretended to be sick for 30 years." Curled up on the floor, I cough up a mouthful of blood. "Why tell me now?" Clark looks at me with eyes full of nothing but hatred. "You stole Vern's place for 30 years. And now, even on your deathbed, you want my dad to owe you a favor. Why should he?" An inexplicably bitter taste fills my mouth. In the end, I die consumed by regret. When I open my eyes again, I find myself in the delivery room next to Verna's. A wave of excruciating pain surges through my lower body.

My mother was the best portrait artist in the police station. She had a strong sense of justice and brooked no evil. However, all I got was a sharp retort when I called her to save me. "You know it's your sister's coming-of-age celebration today, and you're cursing her? Kidnapped, are you? Fine, the kidnappers can kill you for all I care." She assumed it was a prank call. So, she refused to go to the police station and do her job. I wasn't saved in time and was tortured to death. When the DNA report came out, she came to the scene all wobbly. She drew a portrait of me with my bones as reference, her hand trembling all the way. "Jessica? It can't be her. This is a mistake!" She tried again and again. Yet, it didn't matter how many times she redid it as the portrait showed my face. My mother, who had hated me my whole life, teared up.

The day my rich parents come to claim me, all eight of my godfathers weep while sending me off. But just two days later, because I score a whole hundred points higher than the fake heiress, Sharon Staton, on a mock exam, my parents drag me to some black-market underground hospital. They want to dig out my brain and transplant it into Sharon. "With your return, Sharon is no longer the only princess in our family. Giving her your smart brain is the least you can do to make it up to her." "Relax, we'll have them put an ordinary brain in you afterward. We'll care for you for the rest of your life!" Sharon giggles and says, "I'll let you in on a little secret. I already bribed the doctor. The brain they're putting in you belongs to an idiot. You're done for." I struggle with everything I have. Then, the second I'm dragged out of the car, I can't help feeling amused. Isn't this the hospital owned by my eight godfathers? When I left home, Big Pops, a CEO, had looked at me with bloodshot eyes. He'd told me that if the Stanton family so much as laid a finger on me, he would bankrupt them without hesitation. Second Pops, a surgeon, hadn't said a word. He had just quietly wiped down his scalpel. This time, it looks like Sharon and my parents won't be walking out of here alive.