What Are The Key Lessons In Loonie To Toonie - Financial Basics For Canadians?

Falling for the school's star goalie was never the plan... especially when my father is the principal who just banned him from the ice. But getting caught in a scandal with the boy I'm supposed to 'fix'? That's more than a catastrophe; it's a death sentence. Aria Bennett is a top student with perfect grades but no social life. She is assigned to tutor the school's newest transfer student, Jason Monroe. However, Jason is consistently late to their sessions, cocky, and resistant to being told what to do. Aria just wants to get the tutoring over with. Things take a turn when she discovers that Jason is on academic probation and risks losing his spot as the goalie on the hockey team. This revelation softens Aria's perspective on him. As their late-night tutoring sessions become a regular occurrence, Aria starts to see the vulnerabilities behind Jason's tough exterior. Meanwhile, Jason never intended to develop feelings for the girl who dresses in oversized hoodies and carries notebooks. Yet, somehow, Aria is getting under his skin and possibly into his heart. "Does Daddy know you're at a party full of hot hockey players and drinking beer?" "Leave me alone," I spat. Jason grinned slyly and leaned in closer. "You know I heard you dressed up thinking you were going on a date, and the guy turned out to be gay." In a drunken stumble, Jason stepped too close and fell on top of me. Jason's eyes fluttered open slightly as he cupped my face. I froze. His hands were warm against my skin, but rational thought fled me. He gave me a look that screamed trouble. And just as I suspected, he leaned in and kissed my lips. My brain had completely shut down. It was my first kiss.

When my mother won a million dollars from a lottery ticket, she prepared an envelope for each of her three children. After we opened them, my younger brother and younger sister each found a bank card inside. But from my envelope, two 1-dollar coins clinked onto the floor. Seeing me freeze, a trace of unease flickered across Mother's face. "Cassian," she said hesitantly, "Logan and Sienna suffered a lot growing up because your father passed away so early. So I gave each of them 500 thousand dollars as compensation. "You're the eldest son—like a father to them. Don't fight with them over this, okay?" I glanced down at the faded down jacket I had worn for years, the fabric so worn that it had lost its color. Then, my eyes drifted to my younger brother's limited-edition sneakers and to the designer bag slung over my sister's shoulder. Mother seemed to have forgotten that when Father died, I had only been eight. I smiled faintly. "Alright. I won't fight them for it." Hearing this, Mother let out a long breath of relief. The next second, my voice turned cold. "Then I won't fight for the responsibility of supporting you in your old age either."

I happen to come across a popular post regarding a company's finance department on social media. "Seriously, that person in the sales department is such an idiot! All I wanted was to claim reimbursement under her name for the bag I bought, and yet she still refused! "Since she doesn't want me to reimburse my bag, then she can forget about reimbursing everything! This time, I'll teach her a lesson about what happens when she offends a member of the finance department!" There are many bashing comments in the comment section, but the original poster doesn't care at all. She continues adopting a haughty tone. "What am I scared of? The finance department is extremely vital to the company! I refuse to believe that the boss has the courage to offend me, the most important person alive, just to stand up for a sales employee who's easily replaceable!" As I stare at the familiar profile picture belonging to the original poster, I can't help but mentally sneer. She wants to suspend all of my reimbursements, huh? Go ahead, then! This time, I'd like to see what the consequences are for offending a member of the finance department!

(COMPLETED) Krystal Hunter died with a broken heart, a knife in her back, and one regret—she finally won the damn lottery right before she died. Ten million dollars, untouched, deposited in the bank… wasted. Or so she thought. Because when Krystal wakes up in a hospital bed—very much not dead—the world has gone to economic hell. The global economy has collapsed, the dollar has depreciated into dust... and her forgotten bank account? Now worth one hundred billion. With the world burning and billionaires falling like flies, Krystal is no longer the girl they betrayed. She’s richer than empires, hungrier than ever, and back to collect what she’s owed—with interest. Ex-lovers, fake friends, and bloodthirsty siblings beware: She died once. She’s not dying quietly again. A deliciously savage romantic revenge comedy about wealth, power, payback, and kissing someone hot while the economy collapses.

On the third day after our divorce was finalized, my ex-wife, Georgie Anderson, sent me a text message. [Why haven’t you transferred your salary from this month to me?] I thought she was joking. [We’re already divorced.] [So? What does it matter if we’re divorced? You should transfer nineteen thousand dollars from your twenty-thousand-dollar income, just like you did before. The remaining one thousand dollars will be your pocket money. When you were unemployed, I was the one who took care of you. Now that we’re divorced, you’re turning your back on me?] I stared at her text messages and fell silent for a really long time. Throughout our three-year marriage, I gave her nineteen thousand dollars out of my twenty-thousand-dollar salary. She was responsible for "budgeting" our household expenses. However, she spent my money on her civil service exam, afternoon teas with her besties, and even on her study partner, whom I’d never met. As for me, I handled all the house chores—cooking dinner, mopping the floors and doing the laundry. But when I took a little time after work to game, she would yell at me for being lazy. She was demanding money from me even after we were divorced. Her reason was that I might spend the money without thinking. I blocked her number. Three seconds later, she sent me a text message from another phone number. [You’ll regret this. I’m trying to help you one last time.] I laughed. ‘Helping me?’ I thought. Nobody had ever helped me in the past three years.

I was the stingiest rich wife in the city’s high society. I did not spend money on beauty treatments or travel. In fact, I did not even own a single decent outfit or a handbag. Everyone laughed at me. They said I had the fortune of a wealthy family but not the luck to enjoy it. However, what they did not know was that behind closed doors, Arvid Hans, who was famous for his lavish spending, was a hundred times stingier than I was. He piled on gold and jewels to keep up appearances in public. However, with me, he was a miser, refusing to spend a single extra penny. We split every expense down to the last penny. Every meal and every prescription required a receipt and an entry in the ledger. He said this was to help me develop a business mindset. He said that fairness and caution were the keys to a lasting relationship. While other wives were decked out in expensive jewelry, I was dressed simply. He said I was naturally beautiful and did not need such trinkets to enhance my looks. Even our housekeeper was hoarding gold for investment. Yet he kept me from touching a single penny, citing the Hans family’s tradition of being frugal. For three years of marriage, I lived like a devout nun, strictly adhering to the “rules of frugality” he had tailored for me. It was not until Christmas Eve, when I returned a day early from visiting my parents, that I discovered someone else had been living the life of luxury meant for me.