Shirlee Melnick
14 Published Stories
Shirlee Melnick's Books and Stories
Severed Bond: The White Wolf's Wrath
Werewolf I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion.
Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed.
"Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies."
I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor.
Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel.
Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out.
I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years.
He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back.
Or so he thought.
In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling.
I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison.
"You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back."
I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use.
"I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge."
I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared. Prison For Love, Drowning In Deceit
Modern I served five years in prison for my fiancé, Austin, to save the company we built together.
The day I got out, I found him on a yacht, marrying a woman who looked exactly like me.
He told me the position of Mrs. Alexander was still mine, but when his new bride, Eva, dragged us both into the ocean, he swam right past me to save her, leaving me to drown.
He brought me to his home only to force me to serve the woman who stole my life. When she deliberately scalded my arm with hot porridge, he screamed at me.
"You're an animal!"
He was destroying me for a woman and a child he believed were his future. The ultimate betrayal.
But then I found his medical report. Austin was sterile. The baby wasn't his. Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir
Romance Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit.
The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena.
This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone. Beyond The Billionaire's Cruel Obsession
Mafia For five years, I was married to a man the world adored. I told myself he wasn't a monster, just incapable of love.
I learned the truth when his men dragged me from a hospital bed to bake a cake for the spoiled lover he cherished more than life.
He let that man, Cinnamon, carve a painting into my back with a needle. He had me thrown into a walk-in freezer when I refused to cook.
He even made me crawl through a swimming pool filled with broken glass, all to appease Cinnamon's cruel whims.
I finally understood. My husband wasn't incapable of love; he was just incapable of loving me. He was a monster, but only for him.
The day I walked out of that pool, bleeding and broken, my love for him was dead. The next morning, I finalized our divorce and bought every billboard in the city with my last dollar.
My message was simple: "I, Adelaide Atkinson, am officially divorced from Alonzo Taylor. Best wishes for his future with Mr. Cinnamon Webster." The Jilted Wife's Brilliant New Life
Sci-fi As the world burned outside our penthouse, my husband secured two tickets to the Helios Initiative-a billionaire's ark for humanity's brightest minds. I was a brilliant software architect who sacrificed my career for his, so I assumed the second ticket was mine.
Instead, he asked me for a temporary divorce. He needed to legally bring his doe-eyed protégée, Katia, as his "Key Collaborator."
"It's the only logical solution," he said calmly, handing me the papers.
He explained that his work with her was essential for rebuilding civilization, while our marriage was mere "sentimentality." He was leaving me and my mother, who sold her home to fund his career, to die.
He offered me a "fund" to be comfortable while the world ended, insisting he still loved me. The man I had built my life around was discarding me like an outdated accessory.
But he made a fatal miscalculation. He forgot the billionaire funding the ark owed me a life-altering favor. My hand shook as I dialed the number I hadn't touched in ten years.
"Emmett," I whispered, "I need to call in that favor." The Surgeon's Wife: A Postmortem Love
Horror I feel the cold first. It' s the stainless-steel table beneath me, as my soul hovers just above, watching. The man in blue scrubs, my husband Dr. Ethan Cole, picks up a scalpel. He's a surgeon, brilliant they say, but today he' s playing forensic pathologist to my dismembered body. My body is in pieces-a leg here, an arm there.
My soul is hollow, devoid of anger or jealousy, as Ethan and his assistant try to piece me together. He remarks, "This is a mess. The killer was thorough. Almost… personal." His voice sends shivers down what used to be my spine, reminding me of all the times he' d used that same dismissive tone.
He finds a dark splinter near my ribs, speculating about where I was held. Moments later, his phone rings, and his voice softens for Olivia Hayes, inviting her to her birthday, then turning to me with pure disgust, muttering, "Let' s get this over with."
Then he finds our secret. A tiny, nascent fetus within me. His mask shatters, replaced by a choked, guttural sound of shock, horror, and something else-a child he just declared not worth his money.
Clara, my best friend, calls, frantic. Ethan coldly dismisses her, claiming ignorance of my whereabouts and indifference. Olivia arrives, radiant in red, bringing him soup. As she turns, her elbow bumps a tray of instruments, and caught off guard, a flash of pure, venomous rage twists her face – a look that unmasks my killer: Olivia.
My last memories flood back: Olivia, silhouetted, smiling, whispering, "He' s mine, Chloe," before raising the hammer. Now I watch her ladle soup for Ethan, realizing my death freed him, made him hers. And a foolish, broken part of me thinks, 'Maybe it' s for the best. If my death makes him happy, then let him be happy.'
But then Olivia answers Clara' s call, and, with a cruel smirk, lies, framing me as an unfaithful wife who ran off with "Ryan something." Just before Ethan rushes off, claiming a work emergency, I see him make a furtive call to Detective Ryan O' Malley, telling him to ping my real phone.
And just as Olivia confidently shoves something into her bag after he leaves, it slips out: my phone, with its cracked screen and cat charm. I know exactly where Ethan is going now-to find my phone at Olivia' s other apartment-and the labyrinth of lies begins to unravel. Betrayal's Cycle: A Love Forged
Romance My job was to predict disasters, and the data screamed: "Massive avalanche coming for Crestwood."
It was a statistical certainty, a one-in-a-hundred-year event aimed right at my girlfriend Chloe' s hometown, the place she desperately wanted to go for our anniversary.
I tried to warn her, but she scoffed, dismissing my professional analysis as "dramatic" and a pathetic attempt to "control everything."
"You always do this," she snapped. "If you're going to be like this, I'll just go with Chad. I'm sure he'd love a ski trip."
Then, a bizarre pop-up seared onto my screen, a warning from seemingly nowhere: it claimed Chloe and my best friend, Chad, had betrayed me across multiple past lives-as a general, a merchant, a researcher-each cycle ending in my ruin.
It felt insane, a stress-induced delusion, yet the phantom ache of betrayal was horrifyingly real. I was desperate to save her and her family, but her dismissiveness and Chad's smug presence fueled a chilling realization: this wasn't just about a snow slide.
This was a pattern, a cycle of betrayal, and I had to break it, no matter the cost, even if it meant she would hate me for it. Reborn at Thirty: His Ultimate Regret
Romance The piercing beep of the carbon monoxide detector was the last sound I heard on Christmas Eve, my thirtieth birthday.
Then, a searing pain, and I gasped awake, not in my cold, dark apartment, but in a sterile, bright hospital room, giving birth.
I was twenty-five again, watching Liam, my charismatic husband, and his perfectly coiffed mother, Brenda, barely acknowledge our newborn son, Leo.
I remembered my first life: Liam' s growing indifference, sacrificing my culinary dreams for a love that was never returned, watching my son embrace another woman.
The pain of that life, more real than the lingering ache of childbirth, burned in my gut: I vowed I would not live that life again.
When Chloe, the woman Liam had left me for, showed up at our door, ostensibly as a "colleague," and I overheard Liam confessing that I was nothing more than "the next best thing," "a substitute."
My heart shattered, but this time, it forged ice.
When Liam sabotaged my return to the culinary world, taking the restaurant opportunity I had secured and handing it to Chloe, then poaching my entire team, all to publicly humiliate me.
The numbness shattered, replaced by a white-hot, furious clarity: This was war.
I walked into his office, saw Chloe perched on his desk, and told him, "Liam, I want a divorce."
He followed me to Paris, trying to reclaim me, but I refused, winning the culinary competition he' d tried to sabotage.
I knew, with sickening certainty, that he had lost the best part of himself.
I built my own kingdom, and the future was a blank page, and for the first time, I was the one holding the pen. The Million-Dollar Trap
Modern My grandfather, a proud Vietnam vet, was wasting away in his rundown house, neglected by my "perfect" family who deemed him a "downer" on their holiday plans. I was the only one who bothered to visit him, bringing him real food and doing my best to fix his crumbling home.
But then, he collapsed right in front of me, his face turning blue. I fumbled to call 911, frantic with fear. When I desperately reached out to my family group chat, informing them Grandpa was dying, the "read" receipts popped up instantly under my message. Every single one of them saw it.
No replies. No calls. Just silence. And later, when the doctor confirmed he had a month at most, my own father and uncle called, not to offer comfort, but to scream at me for running up hospital bills. "You should have just left him be!" they yelled, furious that I had dared to get involved.
How could these people, his own children, be so heartless, so utterly consumed by greed? Didn't they feel an ounce of shame, an ounce of love, for the man who raised them? What kind of family was this?
Then, a weak whisper from Grandpa's bed cut through my despair. "I know how to make them come." He pointed to his old footlocker, revealing a shocking secret: a bank statement showing over $1.5 million. And with a grim nod, he told me what to text them next: "Grandpa is discussing his will. There's money." This was going to be a Thanksgiving performance they'd never forget. My CEO's Hidden Game
Romance For three years, Ethan played the "human prescription" for Austin tech CEO Jocelyn Hewitt, his piano soothing her anxiety-induced migraines.
His payment was a crucial five-million-dollar contract, the only way to fund his beloved sister Maria's astronomical medical bills.
But the moment the contract ended, Jocelyn coldly cut him off, rejecting the final payment and leaving him with nothing.
When he dared to seek answers, Jocelyn's arrogant fiancé, Andrew, brutally assaulted him, then threatened Maria's life if Ethan didn't disappear.
Consumed by fury and desperation, Ethan orchestrated a "dinner party" at Jocelyn's mansion, expertly using Andrew's severe nut allergy to expose his corporate sabotage.
Yet, after being released, Andrew retaliated, kidnapping Maria and dragging her to the hospital rooftop, forcing Ethan into the very tragic scenario he' d fought to avoid.
On that terrifying ledge, amidst the chaos, Ethan realized the shocking truth: Jocelyn, too, was caught in an unseen "system," manipulated by a script as invasive as his own.
With Maria's life hanging in the balance, he broke the fourth wall of their reality, the unspoken question passing between them: Could they finally be free?
The game wasn't over; it had just begun. I Made My Fiancé Lost It All
Romance I was just a third-grade teacher, my life with my musician fiancé, Ethan, humming along. Our wedding was three weeks away, a dream I' d poured my savings and heart into, supporting his band from day one.
But then I saw him. At "Book Nook Brews," not at band rehearsal, but with Chloe, his young intern. He was laughing with her, a genuine laugh I hadn't heard directed at me in months, his hand intimately on hers. The world instantly tilted off its axis.
The next morning, the city' s biggest music blog confirmed my worst fears, plastered with photos of them. Yet, Ethan called, not to apologize, but to dismiss it as a "PR stunt," calling Chloe his "temporary PR girlfriend." He even expected me to be excited the wedding would be "bigger news" after his "promotional trip." Later, when I confronted him, he shoved me, causing me to stumble onto broken glass, cutting my hand deeply. He abandoned me bleeding, rushing off to comfort Chloe for a self-inflicted scratch.
How could the man I loved be so cold, so manipulative, so utterly, shamelessly devoid of concern for my pain? Why had I sacrificed so much for someone who valued public image over basic human decency? The sting of betrayal was a physical ache, but a cold, hard resolve began to settle in.
His final, hollow "love you" felt like ash in my mouth. That' s when I picked up the phone. "Aunt Carol," I said, my voice steady now. "I need a favor. Can you change the groom\'s name on the wedding invitations? To David Miller." And just like that, my meticulous plan, and my new life, began. Shattered Illusions, Reclaimed Life
Romance After eight years of marriage and years of quiet heartbreak, the two pink lines on the pregnancy test finally gave me a desperate surge of hope: our baby, a chance to fix everything with my husband, Ethan.
But Ethan, the man I thought was my struggling artist, was secretly having an affair with a twenty-year-old named Alexis, a girl he'd 'rescued,' shattering the illusion of our life.
Convinced her absence was the key, I foolishly booked Alexis a non-refundable ticket to a remote wellness retreat, a desperate, naive attempt to save my family.
Within hours, Ethan unleashed a cold, precise rage, systematically dismantling my parents' beloved diner chain, a Midwest institution built from nothing, reducing decades of their hard work to rubble in just three days.
He then sent his men to our family home, subtly threatening my parents, forcing my proud father to kneel in the town square and publicly apologize for *my* supposed deceit.
When I finally confronted him, begging him to stop, he clamped his hand around my throat, slamming me against the wall, his eyes promising devastation far beyond mere financial ruin.
Staring into the eyes of the monster he truly was, the man who had dismissed me as too old and 'not vibrant,' I knew the fragile lie of our marriage, and the hope of our child, could not survive.
To break free from his poison, to ensure he could never use a baby to forever bind me to him, I made the agonizing, solitary decision to abort the pregnancy.
Hollowed out but resolute, I packed our lives into essentials, left my wedding ring, and with my parents, disappeared to a small town, rebuilding our lives from scratch, waiting for the inevitable.
He found me months later, working as a waitress, smugly offering to buy me back, to restore my parents' wealth, thinking he could still control me with money.
But as I met his gaze, I calmly delivered the truth that stripped him of everything: 'There was a baby, Ethan. Ours. And I got rid of it. Because of you.'
That single, devastating confession shattered his arrogance, leaving him broken and lost, finally giving me the first taste of true, hard-won freedom I had fought so desperately to claim. The Eighteen-Year Lie
Modern For eighteen years, I’ve been told a lie.
My husband, Mark, my doctors, even my own parents, convinced me I suffered from a delusional disorder, that my deep ache for a daughter named Emily was just a symptom.
They said I only had one child, my sweet son Ethan.
Yet, I always felt a part of me was missing.
Then, on Ethan’s wedding day, a tarnished silver locket tumbled out from under my bed – the very one I gave my daughter, Emily, for her fifth birthday, the day she vanished.
The fog of medication burned away, replaced by searing clarity.
Emily was real.
Mark had lied.
I stormed into the wedding reception, publicly accusing him of murder, of burying Emily under our oak tree.
But instead of finding justice, I was dragged away by the police, deemed delusional, and forcibly committed to a psychiatric facility.
There, Mark and my parents finally ‘confessed’ a horrifying truth: Emily died in a car crash I caused, and her memory was erased from my mind to ‘protect’ me.
Wracked with grief and guilt, I visited Emily’s supposed grave.
But how could a daughter I’d barely remembered, who allegedly died eighteen years ago, still whisper ‘Save me’ in my dreams?
And why did her headstone, beneath an ancient oak, look… disturbingly new?
My bare hands clawed through the earth until they struck wood.
The small casket, still pristine.
Not decaying, not old.
And utterly, horrifyingly empty.
Emily isn't dead.
My daughter is alive, and Mark, my husband, is a monster.
The fight for Emily has just begun. Weeks After the Funeral, My Wife Was Hers
Modern As a Chicago firefighter, my world was built on duty, courage, and the unwavering love for my wife, Clara, another hero on the force.
Then the call came: a warehouse collapse, my sister-in-law Ava’s unit, no survivors, and later, Clara’s gear found near a burned body, presumed dead, annihilating my soul.
But weeks later, reeling from grief, I stumbled upon a horrific truth: Clara, undeniably alive, was meticulously impersonating her deceased twin, living with Ava’s husband, Mark, in a sickening charade.
My world didn't just tilt; it shattered, as I watched my presumed-dead wife publicly embrace her new life, even carrying another man's baby, all while casting me as the unstable widower.
Every interaction was a fresh wound: her choice to save Mark instead of me during my anaphylaxis, her vile accusation that I’d supplied Mark’s overdose, and her constant, suffocating attempts to maintain control.
I became a ghost haunting their stolen domestic bliss, an unwilling audience to the monstrous lie built on my shattered life.
How could the woman who vowed 'til death do us part, betray me with such calculating cruelty, erasing our shared history to live as another woman’s wife, with another man?
The clean grief I once felt transformed into a venomous, all-consuming rage, a betrayal so profound it stole my sanity.
Was every laugh, every tender moment, a lie?
With every piece of my soul screaming for escape, I decided then: I would leave Chicago, abandoning the ashes of my old life to seek a new beginning, far away from this living hell disguised as a family. You might like
Forsaken by the Pack, Mated to the Secret Lycan King
Da Lanlan For two years, I was Alpha Jase Davenport's loyal assistant and secret bed-warmer. Because I was a wolfless Omega, I trusted his empty promises instead of instincts I didn't possess.
Then, a push notification from a notorious gossip blog shattered my world.
Jase was pictured in Paris, his hand intimately resting on the waist of my cruel stepsister, Kira. The headline screamed that he was finally claiming his fated Luna.
Before I could even process the betrayal, Jase texted me a cold command to update his schedule, treating me like a soulless employee.
Immediately after, my mother called to gloat.
"Did you honestly believe an Alpha like Jase would settle for a defective creature like you?"
She threatened to freeze my late father's Pack trust fund unless I agreed to marry an abusive, elderly Alpha to be his breeding mare. If I refused, I would be cast out as a penniless stray, easy prey for any Rogue.
I was nothing but a convenient placeholder to Jase, and a piece of livestock to my own family. They thought they had me completely cornered, ready to steal my inheritance and leave me to die.
But as the panic subsided, a cold clarity took its place. My father's will only required a legal mating bond to unlock my millions; it never said my family had to approve of the groom.
I wiped my tears, opened my laptop, and searched for a disgraced, debt-ridden Rogue named Babe Vincent.
If I needed a husband on paper to secure my freedom, I was going to buy one. Rejected Luna, Claimed by the King
Rabbit As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me.
Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King.
My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss.
His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.
Rejected by the Heir, Claimed by the Lycan King
Annabell Seto I was a wolfless Omega, sold to the powerful Blackwood Pack to save my bankrupt family from ruin.
But on my wedding day, as I walked down the aisle alone, my groom didn't show up.
Braden, the Alpha heir, had abandoned me at the altar. He boarded a private jet with his scentless human mistress, leaving me to face the cruel mockery of the most powerful Alphas in North America.
To clean up his mess, the Dowager Luna offered me two humiliating replacements to fulfill our sacred marriage treaty: a brute who despised me, or a trembling coward who couldn't even look me in the eye.
The pack members sneered, publicly screaming that I was nothing but "leftovers" and a rejected stray.
They expected me to lower my head, accept their scraps, and remain a pathetic pawn in their political games. They thought a fragile, wolfless girl would just break down and cry.
But a white-hot pride ignited in my soul. I refused to be their victim.
I rejected both of their pathetic options and pointed directly at the most terrifying man in the room—the Lycan King himself.
"I demand a replacement. I choose him."
I didn't just escape humiliation; I forced the ruthless King to make me his Queen.
Now, I am the Luna of the entire pack, wielding the power to control their fate, and stepmother to the coward who threw me away.
It's time to teach these beasts exactly who they are dealing with. In Bed With My Ex's Brother-in-Law
Ady Daniels He left her on the streets. His brother-in-law picked her up. and made her his wife.
On the day her ex, Mark, married the wealthy socialite Bella, Elena was thrown out with nothing but the clothes on her back-humiliated, broken, and utterly alone.
Until Eric Thompson appeared.
Bella's older brother. Mark's powerful brother-in-law. And the most feared Alpha in the city.
He offered her a hand when no one else would. Then, he offered her a deal:
A marriage in name only. A shield against her past. A chance to rebuild.
Elena accepted, expecting a cold arrangement between strangers. But behind closed doors, Eric's carefully guarded control unraveled-and so did hers. Their chemistry was explosive, their nights intense, and the lines between business and pleasure blurred beyond recognition.
He was the one man she could never have. and the only one she couldn't resist.
But when Mark realizes what he truly lost, and Bella discovers the secret behind her brother's bride, Elena must decide:
Is this just a contract?
Or is this the love she was always meant to fight for? The Rise Of The Ugly Luna
Syra Tucker Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone.
Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved.
It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years.
Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from.
Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes.
Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with. Alpha's Regret: Losing His True Mate
Only_Shila For years, I belonged to him. Not his mate. Not his love.
But his bedmate. His Gamma. His shadow in the night.
Alpha Calhoun made sure no man dared touch me, no wolf dared look at me. I was his possession, his secret, his sin wrapped in skin. And I endured it all-his rough hands, his dark devotion, his kisses that tasted like fire and chains because at least, for a while, he was mine.
Until she returned. His destined mate. His so-called true love.
And suddenly, I was nothing. Cast aside, silenced, left to wither in the shadows of a love that had never been mine to claim.
But the thing about being claimed by a man like Calhoun. is that he never truly lets you go.
"Try to leave me, Elodie," his voice had been a snarl against my throat, his grip bruising my waist. "I'll burn down every border, tear apart every wolf that stands in my way, until you crawl back to me. You're mine, even if the Moon Goddess herself wants to rip you away."
He didn't know then that I already had one foot out the door.
And when I finally left his pack.
I took more than just my broken heart with me. THE LYCAN KING'S TREASURED LUNA
Jhasmheen Oneal Narine never expected to survive. Not after what was done to her body, mind, and soul. But fate had other plans. Rescued by Supreme Alpha Sargis, the kingdom's most feared ruler, she finds herself under the protection of a man she doesn't know... and a bond she doesn't understand.
Sargis is no stranger to sacrifice. Ruthless, ambitious, and loyal to the sacred matebond, he's spent years searching for the soul fate promised him, never imagining she would come to him broken, on the brink of death, and afraid of her own shadow. He never meant to fall for her... but he does. Hard and fast. And he'll burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again.
What begins in silence between two fractured souls slowly grows into something intimate and real. But healing is never linear.
With the court whispering, the past clawing at their heels, and the future hanging by a thread, their bond is tested again and again.
Because falling in love is one thing.
Surviving it?
That's a war of its own.
Narine must decide, can she survive being loved by a man who burns like fire, when all she's ever known is how not to feel? Will she shrink for the sake of peace, or rise as Queen for the sake of his soul?
For readers who believe even the most fractured souls can be whole again, and that true love doesn't save you. It stands beside you while you save yourself.
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