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His surrogate and The match making Twins Novel

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I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!
Urban RomanceI received a pornographic video."Do you like this?"The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts."Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response."You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!"The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed.I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella.************************************************************************************************************************“I want to get a divorce, Mark,” I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time—even though I knew he'd heard me clearly.He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!"The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him."I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster.He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table.I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.
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Farewell to a Heart That Was Never Mine
Urban RomanceKnown in circles as a seductress, Jasmine Booth has red lips that are curved in a teasing smile and eyes that draw one in. Caesar Snee is the most outstanding heir of a powerful family. He's cold and restrained, like an untouchable gem sitting atop his throne.No one would ever guess that these two polar opposites secretly tangle in the backseat of a Maybach late at night, claw at each other in the restroom of a charity gala, and lose control in front of the windows of a private vineyard.Each time, her legs go weak as he grips her waist and has his way with her.After yet another night of indulgence, the sound of running water echoes from the bathroom. Jasmine leans against the headboard and calls her father."I can marry that dying Schuman of Southmere as a bride, but I have one condition."On the other end, her father can barely hide his joy. "Name it! As long as you're willing to marry him, you can have anything you want!""I'll explain everything when I'm home." Her voice is soft and sweet-sounding, but her gaze is icy cold.Just as Jasmine ends the call and reaches for her clothes, she catches sight of Caesar's laptop left open beside her. A WhatsApp message glows on screen, sent by a woman saved under the name "Sabrina"."Caesar, there's thunder. I'm so scared…"Jasmine's fingers tremble as she reads this.The bathroom door swings open, and Caesar walks out. Water drips from his collarbone, and his shirt is casually unbuttoned at the top. His usual restrained demeanor is now laced with a touch of languid carelessness."Something happened at work. I have to go," he says, voice still cool and distant as he picks up his suit jacket.Jasmine curls her lips slightly. "Is it really work, or are you going to see your first love?"
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Goodbye Scumbag, Hello True Love
Urban Romance"I'm so over Cassandra." Aidan Ziegler sneers, swirling his wine glass with a lazy smirk. "A real woman is soft and sweet—like Clara. As for her..." In the corner, a glass suddenly shatters in a man's palm. Cassandra Callum stands frozen, holding the cake she made to celebrate their three-year anniversary, eyes locked on the blood trickling down from his sharply defined fingers. Tristan Freeman, head of Freeman Group, slowly wipes his hand clean. His dark gaze sweeps over her tear-reddened eyes. "Ms. Callum, would you like to marry me?" The city explodes with gossip. Everyone thinks a broke little designer has climbed her way into wealth and power— what no one knows is that this marriage is a trap Tristan set five years ago. His private gallery holds over a thousand sketches of her profile—from that day in sophomore year when she crouched in a rainy alley feeding a stray cat, to her backstage at a runway abroad, gently arranging jewelry. Late at night, he stares at security footage, cigarette in hand, as Aidan kneels in a storm, soaked and shaking. Tristan suddenly pulls his delicate wife into his arms. Later, a finance reporter captures the once cold and ruthless Tristan, down on one knee before Cassandra. His hands tremble as he holds a pregnancy test. Cassandra flashes her wedding ring and laughs softly. "Surprised, Mr. Freeman?" Tristan, once known for being sharp and vicious, blinks back tears, then presses a trembling kiss to the faded mark on her ring finger. "Cassie, when you were 22, I wanted to say..." "Say what?" He leans in, his voice hoarse as he whispers, "The cake was really sweet."
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