Do Any Movies Showcase Balafons Prominently In Their Score?

Quinn is everything I’ve ever wanted and never deserved. She’s the best friend, the best person, I’ve known in my entire life. Problem is, there’s always someone between us: Nate, our other friend. I know Quinn's heart is mine, but she cares for him, too. Oh, and then there’s my other love-football. With all of these obstacles, sometimes it feels like Quinn and I will never find our happy ending. But I’m not giving up on us. Contains sexual scenes and explicit content; recommended for those 18 and over.KEEPING SCORE is created by TAWDRA KANDLE, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

“Why would I reject you? We are mates. Tell me why.” he demanded to know. “I am an omega. They say my mother was banished. I have been an omega for as long as I can remember,” I told him and felt shame wash over me as I twiddled with my fingers. He let out a low growl and caused me to recoil into the corner of the bed. “Victoria, I assure you that I will do nothing. Those who have harmed you in any way will be dealt with accordingly. Mark my words,” he said, leaning over to kiss my forehead. Victoria is nineteen years old and unwanted in the Red Moon Pack. She’s just the Omega Girl that nobody wanted. Beaten and scolded daily, she sees no end to her pain and no way out. When she meets her future mate, she is sure he will reject her too. Most of the werewolves get their wolves when they hit eighteen, but here she is, 19 years old and still not got her wolf or shifted. Of course, the pack found it to be yet another reason to treat her like trash, beating and bullying her. Except she’s not just an omega girl. Victoria is about to find out who she really is, and things are about to change. Will Victoria realize her worth and see she is worthy to be loved? What will happen when her sworn enemy, Eliza, vows to take everything from Victoria?

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.

I am about to book a room at a hotel owned by Luca Conti, a consigliere under my command, when a sharp voice suddenly cuts in from behind me. "Aspetta. That's not your price." I turn around. A woman wearing a manager's badge stands there with her arms crossed, scrutinizing me as if I am an unsightly stain she can't wait to wipe away. "We don't allow prostitution here," she says coolly. "If you're receiving clients, there will be a fine." As she speaks, she hands me a penalty notice. The charges are clearly listed on the paper. "Illegal guest reception fee: 350 thousand dollars. "Special soundproofing fee: 150 thousand dollars. "Special cleaning fee: 100 thousand dollars. "Total fee: 600 thousand dollars." Receiving clients? I have simply come straight from a Mafia cocktail party without changing clothes—that's all. What exactly does she take me for?" I lift my gaze and answer evenly, "You're mistaken. I am not that kind of person. You can contact the hotel owner, Luca Conti, and ask him who I am." A sneer flickers through Sofia Rossi's eyes. She spits to the side, full of contempt. "Still claiming you are not a puttana? Women like you come here every week. Every single one of them swears she knows him. "Our boss is the consigliere to the Russo family, the most powerful Mafia family in Seneriffe. Do you really think he needs someone cheap like you? "I suggest you pay up now, subito, before your client loses patience and drags you into the street and rapes you." I do not waste another word on her. I take out my phone and send a message directly to my secretary, Marco Bianchi. "Notify Luca. Either this manager, Sofia Rossi, disappears from this city, or he does."

I'm the most important family he's got now." Bianca held her hand up to the vase as a cruel smirk twisted her lips. "You pale in comparison." **** Evelyn thought she was already living a blissful married life. Her husband, Adrian, was handsome and wealthy, and she was about to become a mother. But all of this was shattered by the arrival of her husband’s sister-in-law. Adrian, usually distant and indifferent to everyone else, showed an unusual level of care for Bianca, beyond the boundaries of family. Evelyn endured countless slights and provocations, until she discovered that Bianca had been two months pregnant, a secret kept from her alone. Determined to leave this broken household, Evelyn made up her mind to walk away. But Adrian behaved unlike himself. Desperate to win Evelyn back, he sought to make amends for the mistakes he had made.

Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it on Lyra. She didn't even hold it against you, and now you're trying to steal her thunder? You're unbelievable!" "I can't believe you're still lying through your teeth during such a serious situation. You never change, do you?" Lyra immediately defuses the tension. "Mira, I don't blame you for what happened in the past, but you really shouldn't impersonate the director's wife. I've already arranged the ward and surgery, and I'm donating another 100 thousand dollars to Mr. Warren!" I'm this close to laughing out of sheer anger. She's the one who scratched her name off the diagnosis report and framed me for having an STD all those years ago. I never even confronted her about it, and now she's playing the victim? Lyra soon posts a photo in the group chat, showing off her husband's car. Yet, when I see the man in the passenger seat, I guffaw. Isn't that my husband's driver? When did he start running a hospital?