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Authors Note:

On January 24, 2019 at exactly 3:03am, I published the last chapter of Over My Dead Body. I wrote the entire novel on my iPhone, and didn't expect to have a single reader come across the story of Ace and Allegra. Two years later, Over My Dead Body now has over 33 Million reads, and I'm still pinching myself to make sure this is real life.

I'm beyond excited to announce that Over My Dead Body will be joining the Paid Stories program starting September 1, 2021. This platform gave me a voice to share my creativity, and now it's giving me an opportunity to continue writing tear jerking cliffhangers, adrenaline filled action scenes, and romances that will make your heart swoon.

The first ten chapters of Over My Dead Body are posted, and will remain free. I can't begin to describe how much your support means to me. I wrote this novel during a dark time in my own life, and too see the flood of support from readers all over the world makes me more grateful than you will ever know.

Xoxo, Rebelle Fleur




I slowly turned the knob on my scope, focusing the red crosshair into the middle of my sight. I slowly rotated my sniper rifle, scanning the five-star restaurant fifteen hundred meters away. My breathing steadied as I laid my eyes upon my target. Francesco De Luca, and he was aligned perfectly within my sight. He was an unpleasant-looking man, to say the least. Overweight, silver hair, the kind of smile that makes your skin crawl. No surprise he was surrounded by escorts half his age. But what else can you expect from a De Luca?

Now the question of the day: Headshot? Or heart shot?

That was always my biggest dilemma during my missions. I contemplated my options as I tapped my finger against the trigger lightly while pursing my lips. I waited for a few moments before I sighed and settled for the head. I held my breath to focus the shot, and quickly pulled the trigger.

His head practically exploded, sending blood flying all over the women he was with as his lifeless body plopped to the floor. His security detail rushed over to him, frantically trying to grasp what just happened as a chorus of screams filled the air.

"Gotcha." I chuckled as my lips curved into a grin.

I grabbed my sniper rifle, my trusty McMillan Tac-50, and quickly began to pack it up. I dismantled my weapon in record time and dusted myself off before reaching into my pants pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. I hit the bottom of the box three times, before opening it and sliding one out. I lifted it to my mouth as I hummed Fly Me to The Moon by Frank Sinatra. A fucking classic. I slid the box back into my pocket, grabbed my rifle, and made my way downstairs.

The vantage point I picked was an abandoned warehouse about a mile away from the restaurant. Still humming, I quickly descended 5 flights of stairs while I puffed on my cigarette. Sirens screamed in the distance, and I smiled knowing that they were cleaning up the mess I made.

The vibrations of my phone snapped me back to reality. Biting my cigarette, I dug through my bag trying to find that annoying device.

"What?" I mumbled, still holding the cigarette between my teeth.

"Is he taken care of?" The cold voice asked.

"Yup." I stated, popping the p obnoxiously. I knew how much he hated that.

"Good job. We'll see you at the safehouse." My father spoke out quickly.

"Alright, see you soon." I stated before I hung up.

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