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Elroy Notman

10 Published Stories

Elroy Notman's Books and Stories

The Unwanted Historian: Claimed by a Better Alpha

The Unwanted Historian: Claimed by a Better Alpha

Werewolf
5.0
He told me his Inner Wolf was dormant. He claimed he couldn't feel the Mate Bond, that divine connection the Moon Goddess gifts to us. I believed him. For years, I waited in the shadows, protecting his secret, convinced my Alpha was just broken. But the truth revealed itself in the middle of a fire. During a rogue ambush, an explosion threw me into a ditch. My ankle was crushed in a hidden poacher’s trap, the silver teeth searing my flesh like acid. I screamed for him. Ethan sprinted through the smoke. He stopped, looking down at me. He saw the trap. He saw the blood. He saw the silver burning me alive. Then he looked at Chloe. She was sitting on the grass nearby, clutching a tiny, insignificant scratch on her forehead, wailing like a child. He didn't hesitate. Not for a heartbeat. He turned his back on me. He scooped Chloe up in his arms, cradling her like she was made of precious glass, and ran to safety. As the flames licked closer to my trapped leg, his voice cut through the Mind-Link, cold as a winter grave. "You are too weak, Ava. You don't deserve to be my Luna." He wasn't dormant. He never was. He just didn't want me. I didn't die in that fire. I dragged myself out, leaving my love in the ashes. The next morning, I limped into the Pack Hall. My leg was a ruin, but my mind was clear. Ethan sat on his throne, Chloe smirking on his lap. He looked at me with annoyance, expecting me to beg. Instead, I stood tall, letting my own wolf rise. "I, Ava Miller, reject you, Ethan Reed, as my mate."
Beyond the Grave: My Ex-Husband's Ruin

Beyond the Grave: My Ex-Husband's Ruin

Fantasy
5.0
Three years after my death, my music mogul husband, Andrew Scott, sued my estate. His claim? That the bone marrow I donated to his starlet lover, Molly Clarkson, was failing her, causing her leukemia to relapse. I' m a ghost, tied to him, forced to watch him rage. He held a press conference, signing over my life' s work-my entire unreleased song catalog-to Molly, calling it a "gift." When that stunt didn' t work, he stormed to my family' s modest home, accusing me of faking my death, convinced I was just hiding. He dismissed my younger sister, Stella' s, pleas that I was dead, then brutally attacked my beloved three-legged terrier, Banjo, as a twisted warning. He boasted about financially bailing out my family, twisting the knife. But Andrew didn' t know the whole truth. I died from complications after the bone marrow procedure, critically weakened. I had a rare genetic condition, Fanconi anemia, which made the donation incredibly high-risk. The doctors Molly paid never told him, and they gave me a dangerously low dose of anesthesia, leaving me paralyzed but conscious, feeling every agonizing drill into my bones. I died less than two weeks later, while he celebrated Molly' s "remission" in Aspen. He believed the falsified hospital records saying I was discharged in stable condition, refusing to accept I was gone. Now, my spirit screamed as Andrew vowed to find me, threatening my family with unspeakable violence unless I reappeared. My grave was empty. My brother, Matthew, will bring me home.
Reborn to Protect My Twins

Reborn to Protect My Twins

Billionaires
5.0
The first cries of my son, then my daughter, filled the delivery room. Twins. Mark would have been so proud. A nurse laid them on my chest, tiny and perfect. Then the world tilted. A memory, sharp and brutal, slammed into me. Another life. This exact moment. Giving birth. Aethel Corp. The Thorne family. Damian Thorne. His cold eyes. Cassandra Vance, his mistress, her fake tears. My baby chosen. Then fire, screaming. My child, gone. And Damian' s hands on me, ending it all. "No," I whispered, clutching my newborns. It wasn't a dream. It was real. It happened. And it was happening again. My heart hammered as Damian Thorne walked in, Cassandra Vance on his arm. They were here. Just like before. I fell to my knees, renouncing any claim, begging him to let us leave, to sever all ties to the Thorne family. He forced me to the Serenity Pines retreat, a gilded cage. Cassandra' s 'therapy dog' lunged straight for my twins, its teeth snapping, and Damian blamed me. Later, Cassandra framed me, claiming I cursed her child, convincing Damian I was a source of dark energy. "Take her children!" he ordered, intent on a "cleansing ritual" for my newborns. I fought and clawed, begging him to take me instead, to leave my babies alone. He wouldn't listen. They dragged me out, tying me to a lone tree in a brewing storm. He left me exposed, alone, to die, just like before. I stared at the hidden burner phone, a fragile lifeline. Genevieve Thorne. The Empress Dowager. My only hope. Could she act fast enough?
The Cost of Nine Stars

The Cost of Nine Stars

Fantasy
5.0
My entire life revolved around a sacred power that cost me a piece of my soul every time I used it. Nine star-like birthmarks on my forearm, each fading after I resurrected Ethan, the adoptive brother I believed had saved me. I had brought him back from the dead nine times, from drug overdoses to twisted car wrecks, each revival leaving me more hollowed out. But today, standing in a reeking stable, the ultimate degradation struck as Ethan, now a desperate heir, demanded I perform my vanished miracle on a dead racehorse for his crooked deal. My power was long gone, all nine stars extinguished, yet he sneered, refusing to believe me, calling me selfish and an "ungrateful bitch." He had Tiff, his social-media-obsessed girlfriend, publicly "cleanse" me as a cruel mockery of my ancient ritual. Then he tried to drag me towards the dead stallion, ready to force a miracle I couldn't perform, seeing me as nothing but a worthless tool. The endless humiliation, the years of abuse, and the terrifying emptiness inside me became an unbearable weight. How could he be so blind to the fact that I had absolutely nothing left to give? I was a commodity, passed from one gilded cage to another, facing an eternity of exploitation. In a final, desperate act of defiance, to reclaim myself even if it meant death, I bolted from the stable and sprinted headlong into the path of an oncoming car. But instead of oblivion, strong hands pulled me back from the brink, and for the first time in forever, I saw the face that would rewrite my entire past: Julian Thorne.
The Contract Wife's Reckoning

The Contract Wife's Reckoning

Romance
5.0
My marriage was a transaction, a cold business deal. For four years, I, CEO Ava Sterling, barely tolerated Liam Hayes, the man I married for convenience. I thought I was finally free when the divorce papers arrived, signed by him, a strange relief washing over me. But then, a familiar face stormed into my penthouse, her eyes burning with grief and hatred, the words striking me like a physical blow: "He' s dead, Ava!" "Liam jumped!" "From his balcony! It' s your fault!" The man I' d just discarded, the one I told I'd feel more for a stray dog, was gone, and his friend, Chloe, accused me, his "widow," of killing him with my indifference. The city morgue confirmed it: a suicide. My newfound "freedom" felt tainted, replaced by a bizarre possessiveness when I cradled his ashes, even forbidding his burial. I wasn' t grieving, how could I for someone I'd wished gone, yet I couldn't let go. Was I losing my mind, clinging to traces of a man I supposedly hated? Then, the final rupture: Liam's urn shattered, his ashes maliciously scattered by Ethan Vance, the man I had mistakenly perceived as a sympathetic friend, turning my detachment into a chilling rage. It wasn't just my husband and his last remnant gone; it was an act of pure evil, screaming of deeper manipulation. Now, fueled by this cold fury, I will uncover the truth behind Liam' s death and Ethan's twisted role, making him pay for everything. This is no longer about grief; it is about justice.