Novels
Serialized novels, literary collections, and continuing volumes.
I Returned to My Childhood Home to Meet My Real Parents—But the DNA Archive Proved I Was Never a Mercer
“Rebecca isn’t your mother.” The woman on my phone paused. “And Samuel Mercer isn’t your father.” Nobody in the mausoleum spoke. For months, every answer about my life had been built around those two people. Rebecca.
Two Women Claimed to Be My Mother—Then My Twin Told Me Which One Had Raised Her
“Claire, don’t believe her.” Both Sarahs said it at exactly the same time. Same voice. Same rhythm.
My Father Couldn't Prove He Was Thomas Hart—Then Sarah Woke Up and Identified the Man Who Stole His Life
“If that man is Thomas Hart…” I looked at the father who had raised me. “…who are you?”
The Woman Who Raised Me Was Replaced Twenty-Three Years Ago—Then Sophie Opened the Door to the Wrong Grandpa
Sophie screamed. Daniel grabbed my phone. “SOPHIE!” Nothing. Then we heard her breathing.
My Biological Father Was Alive—Then He Called Me and Said My Mother Had Lied About Why I Was Born
“Samuel Mercer is alive.” I said the words aloud because I needed to hear how impossible they sounded. Nobody corrected me. The security monitor still showed the hooded man leaving the repository with the Zero-D cryogenic container. My supposed biological father. The man every record said had died at six days old.
The Girl Who Called Me Aunt Was Really My Daughter—Then Laura Admitted She Knew Before I Ever Met Her
“Mia is yours.” The line went dead. Daniel kept staring at my phone. I couldn't speak. Mia. His sister Laura's six-year-old daughter. The little girl who ran into my arms every Christmas. Who called me Aunt Claire. Who had Sophie's exact habit of twisting her hair around one finger when she was nervous. “No,” Daniel finally said. Nathan was watching us from across the underground archive. Rebecca whispered, “Claire…”