Is The Novel Alie Ishala Based On Samantha'S Life?

To prevent me from being jealous of my stepmother's son, my dad implemented a "family point system". Washing dishes earned 1 point, and getting a perfect score on a test earned 10 points. Accumulating 1000 points meant you could make a wish come true. When my stepbrother broke a vase, Dad said it was a sign of good luck and awarded him 50 points. When I insisted on going to school with a fever, Dad said I was trying to garner sympathy and deducted 100 points. I scrambled to scrape together every point I could, all for that exorbitant Math Olympiad registration form. On the day I finally accumulated enough points, my stepbrother cried and said he wanted a pair of limited-edition sneakers. Dad immediately emptied my points. "We're family. Your points are your brother's points too." I looked at the torn-up application form and jumped from the 18th-floor balcony.

My boyfriend was a therapist. On the day I got diagnosed with ALS, he was busy celebrating his friend's birthday. He said, "Sophie's got depression. Without me, she could break down, hurt herself, or do worse things." To look after her, he broke up with me and moved into her place. I blocked him on everything, agreeing we'd go our separate ways. Strangely, he lost his nuts when he found out I was dying.

Tyrell has always been one for being on his own. He meet someone and then he realises how much love has to offer.

"No offense but you are always so grumpy, it's actually kind of cute." I bluntly say to him and watch him throw me a nasty glare, I just giggle at that. "I'm not." he defends himself in a calm yet stern voice keeping his face emotionless. "sure." I find myself saying sarcastically. I think I'm too drunk  because there is no way a sober River will have the courage to hold a conversation with a very grumpy Killian. I expect another scary glare to come towards me but instead I meet with a soft gaze that stares at me with an unreadable expression. "I'm not." This time he says softly, I see him biting back a small smile and , he smiles. I've never seen him smiling before, not this way. Standing on the edge of life, River breathes in and lets himself adjust into a new life, into a new family. After a horrifying past he finds his life wrapped around a shaggy orphanage and several foster homes which makes it hard to believe that he is actually being adopted. Having a family was always a desire of him but to his burnt luck, he doesn't feel like he belongs in his adoptive family. Everyone and everything around him make it clear that he wasn't born to be happy. River is waiting for another push, one last push to end it all and fall from the edge and that's when a grumpy looking Killian Price steps into his life. River can't decide if Killian is the saviour or the devil himself. River's life meets with unexpected secrets mixed with burning desire, adorning the melancholic attire. Soon, he finds out he isn't the only one standing on the edge of the cliff, or he realises he is far from the edge.

After an earthquake, my sister and I help to rescue the victims. I save a wealthy woman who adopts me as her daughter. I become the sole heiress to an astronomical fortune. My sister saves a regular person. All she gets as thanks is a few thousand dollars. She thinks life is unfair and drags me to die with her. When I open my eyes again, I'm looking at the debris from the earthquake. This time, my sister rushes to save the wealthy woman. She says smugly, "It's my turn to be a rich heiress!"

I cradled Chloe’s newborn, filled with joy and affection. The baby was not blood of mine, yet as Chloe’s best friend, I would love and protect the little one with everything I had. "Sweet boy," I whispered, gently tapping the tip of his nose. "I'm your godmother. No one would ever hurt you." The hospital room was washed in golden afternoon light. Adrian stood by the window in a dark overcoat, his profile sharp against the glass. He looked exactly like the man the whole industry knew: controlled, elegant, untouchable. Hollywood's golden producer. My newlywed husband. Then he said, in a voice as flat as if he were discussing a contract, "He's not your godson. He's my son." For a second, I thought I had misheard him. Maybe I was just exhausted from the wedding, from the endless calls and fittings and congratulations. I almost laughed. But Adrian turned around. A cruel little smile curved his lips. "The child is mine," he said again. My arms tightened around the baby. "The night you got hurt," he went on, "I was with Chloe the whole night. We went through an entire box... apparently this little guy still found a way to arrive." I couldn't move. It felt as if ice water had been poured down my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. After a long silence, I finally managed to whisper, "But... we only registered our marriage yesterday." Adrian walked over and put an arm around my shoulders, almost gently. His tone was soft, but it carried the kind of condescension people used with a child throwing a tantrum. "Don't worry. Chloe and I were never going to get married. If I had wanted to marry her, I would have done it years ago." He paused, and something almost pleased flashed in his eyes. "Didn't Chloe ever tell you? We had a history. I was her first."