Where Can I Buy 'Dinner For Two' Online?

I ran into my boss when I was complaining to my best friend about how he actively made the workplace hostile for me. He fired off a barrage of questions, "Where's the annual report? Where's the script for the speech? I can't believe you have the gall to enjoy a meal when you have a mountain of work to do!" That was it. I slammed the table. "It's due tomorrow! What's the rush? Are you going to hold a funeral for yourself tomorrow?" My boss stormed off in a huff. I asked for the bill, but the waiter came with two. My table came up to 60 dollars, but the other ran up to 3,750. "Your boyfriend said you're paying for both. Cash or credit, miss?" Shawn Goodall put that impossible bill on my tab and called himself my boyfriend? Unbelievable! I called him, utterly incensed. Yet, he had the gall to say, "Get the receipt and claim it from finance." Then, he hung up. The waiter was going to call the cops if I didn't pay up, so I had no choice but to accept this bitter defeat. I was trying to claim the money the next day, but the cops arrested me instead. "Shawn Goodall died at midnight and was found in his house. You're his girlfriend and the last person he met. You're coming with us."

"Spread your legs for me, Celeste." His voice was dark silk and hot sin pressed against my ear. --- My husband was fucking my best friend behind my back for six months. Six months of roses. Six months of 'you are my everything' while he was making her moan his name. I trusted him with my whole heart. He handed it to her like a cheap gift. So when Dominic Ford showed up with rage in his eyes and proof in his hands, something in me snapped. And in that broken, dangerous place, a sinful idea was born. "An affair," I told him, meeting his gaze. "Real. Raw. Dirty. No strings. No limits. We give them exactly what they deserve." He studied me for a long, slow moment. Then he pulled me close, his lips brushing my neck as he whispered. "When do we start?" Dominic Ford touched me like he was trying to ruin me for every other man. He succeeded. He took me apart, piece by piece, night after night, until I was shaking and screaming and begging for more... and when morning came I was crawling back for everything he gave me the night before. This was supposed to hurt them. It was never supposed to feel this good. It was never supposed to feel like home. Now our cheating spouses are on their knees, right where we wanted them. But Dominic is looking at me like the plan just changed. And God help me, I don't want to walk away either. We agreed. No strings. No feelings. Just revenge. That was the deal. We lied. --- WARNING: This story contains explicit sexual content, graphic scenes, and two broken people who find each other in the most sinful way possible.

I ordered an incubus online, but when the package arrived, there were two of them. One was gentle and obedient, the other was hot-tempered and unpredictable. I immediately messaged customer service to ask if they'd sent the wrong one—I had only ordered the gentle kind. The reply came cheerfully. "Congratulations, you've unlocked the hidden variant! This model is a bit special—buy one, get one free!" Wait… what? I remembered hearing people say that raising an incubus is like raising a puppy, only better—they keep you warm at night and don't shed. Well, if that's true, whether I had one or two made no difference. So I ended up paying the price of one and getting two—what a steal! Or so I thought… until I went to feed them. That's when I realized I was the cookie in the middle of a sandwich. Apparently, "keeping me warm at night" was a strenuous activity.

Sometimes love demands a second chance, but it will never be bought, no matter the amount. Michael Carrington promised himself after losing his wife that he was done with love. No more investing in anything he wasn’t capable of walking away. Sex and high-dollar business deals would become the center of his world. Throw in a touch of danger, and he has all he needs outside of a new assistant. Rainey Foster has finally graduated college, and as a struggling single mom, she just needs someone to give her a chance. She’s willing to go all in with the right employer, as long as the buck stops there. He can have her time, her commitment and her attention, but no one will ever have her heart again. She thinks she has things figured out until she comes face to face with the illustrious Michael Carrington. Powerful. Confident. Sexy as all get out. Lust might ignite the flame between them, but love will have its way.

During the holiday break, my wife, Jayda Glover—the hospital's star surgeon and Chief of Cardiac Surgery—suddenly "had to work overtime." Our third-anniversary hot springs trip? Canceled. That night, I was scrolling social media when a post from her intern, Dillon Tripp, popped up. My ice-queen wife always said her "golden hands" were only for patients. Apparently, they cook now too. She was in a cartoon apron, calmly chopping vegetables. The caption read: [Thank you, Dr. Glover, for personally cooking to comfort me after I was bullied by a patient's family!] I tapped like and left a comment. [White coat to apron. Very domestic.] Ten minutes later, the whole hospital knew Cardiac Surgery's untouchable beauty had broken her rule—just to cook for a younger guy. Jayda called. Dishes clattered in the background. "You really had to embarrass me in public? He got hot water thrown on him by a patient's family today. I was just doing my duty as his mentor! "A pampered professor's kid like you wouldn't know the first thing about how hard broke med students have it. "Apologize to Dillon right now. Otherwise, no matter how much you beg later, I'm not going on that trip with you!" Beg her? I looked at the divorce papers that had just arrived on the coffee table and let out a quiet laugh. I wasn't begging anymore. From this moment on, we were strangers.

During our New Year’s Eve dinner, I told my family that my company was not giving out year-end bonuses. The table went silent. Even the TV host counting down to midnight suddenly sounded grating. My husband and daughter slammed the table in frustration. “No year-end bonus?! How are we supposed to pay the mortgage and the car loan? I didn’t marry you so you could live off me!” “Other moms either buy designer bags or send money. You’re the most useless one. You can’t even bring home a $100,000 bonus.” My in-laws sat there with dark looks on their faces and said nothing. I looked at their self-righteous faces and felt a lump in my throat. All these years, every expense in this family was paid with the money I earned from late nights, overtime, and project commissions. But all they could see was the $100,000 bonus I did not bring home. “If you can’t make any money, then get out!” My husband grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the door. My daughter was not satisfied and kicked me on the lower back. I did not turn around. I took out my phone and booked the presidential suite at a downtown five-star hotel. My bank account had just received a $1 million dividend payout. It was true that I did not get a year-end bonus. But I got promoted to management. From this day onward, I would receive $1 million in dividends every year.