Why Does The Protagonist Change In Yours For The Taking?

When a eighteen-year-old virgin decided to leave Louisiana, her home town for Texas, an alien town she was oblivious that the journey of her independence would become one of longing for a man's love and attention. With her love built on a misconception, she was unaware that Charles Jackson; the multi-billionaire, was an egocentric, cold-hearted, proud and unforgiving man who locked his heart to love, the aftermath of the brute conditions under which he grew up. But yet, Maureen Thompson was bent on earning her bosses attention at all cost. Though not pushy or... flirty, she developed partial-obsessive tendencies; one that kept her dwindling in the thoughts of having sex with him—even as a virgin! Forgoing his harsh countenance, overly exaggerated reactions, she envisions Charles in the portrait of cold-nineteenth century men that spew flavors of love to their lovers—indoor. But Charles Jackson, built in grace and glamor, could win a medal in egocentrism, rudeness malevolence, prudishness and of course, beauty! And yet, she judged his reactions to the plane crash wrongly, unaware that December had scared his heart. It appeared that the plane crash became memorable either through breaking hearts or eventually mending them. Be it the crash itself or the incidents after the crash, it changed people's lives and Maureen was not left out. In readiness to be true to her love, Maureen ignored warnings and hit the wrong target. Lurking in the shadows of her emotions and fated to be bewitched by perfect blue eyes that defies morality, she might discover that Charles Jackson, heir to Jackson Companies PLC and CEO of Westland Airlines was truly born of STONE and FROST. And worse, everything that she believed might just be a lie!

My parents’ adoptive daughter took three kids hiking with her, and they ended up dead. They wanted me to take the blame for her. My father forced me to kneel before the families of the victims and crushed my calf with his hiking pole. “These were the legs she used to take your kids hiking. I’ll make sure she never gets to hike again.” My mother legally disowned me. “Jenny will be breaking hiking records one day. I won’t let anyone bring up her shameful sister when that happens! She’s sacrificed so much for you all these years, and it’s time you paid her back.” My boyfriend promised me, “Jenny has nothing. She would not survive if she had to endure all this, but at least you have me. I’ll be here for you no matter what happens. They’re just angry, but they won’t send you to jail. You can come home once everything settles down.” To defend the reputation of my adoptive sister, he and my parents worked together to falsify evidence and send me to jail. “It’s to protect you,” they promised, “so the families don’t take revenge on you.” They did not know I had already given up on them.

During my night shift, I refused to help my adopted sister administer fluids to her patient. After the wrong drug is given, I watch a seven-year-old boy die after he suffers an allergic reaction right before my eyes. In my previous life, the boy's family stormed the nurses' station after I'd just finished administering his IV medication. The next thing I knew, I was violently beaten up. "You poisoned my grandchild by giving him the wrong medicine!" But the fluid I introduced into his bloodstream was a simple glucose solution. It couldn't have led to such a disastrous outcome. When I was on the brink of passing out, someone called the police. I thought help had finally arrived, but I was sorely mistaken. The police officer—my brother—pinned me to the ground. "We found your prints on the drug vial. You're a murderer." Then, my childhood friend, a forensic pathologist, held up an autopsy report and accused me of the same crime. "The patient's time of death is around 5:00 am. That's the same time you administered drugs into his system." Unable to prove my innocence, I was ultimately beaten to death by the boy's enraged family members. My brother and my childhood friend had always loved me. Even on the brink of death, I couldn't understand why they would do this to me. Now, I open my eyes and find myself back on the night it all began.

Apparently, the mafia heir, Giovanni Alonzi, is on his deathbed. The Alonzi family wants to select a candidate out of all eligible bachelorettes in Monteverde in order to carry his heir and pray for his recovery. The moment the news gets out, my fiance, Riccardo Moretti, instantly proposes to me. He also urges me to register our marriage on the same day. We've been childhood sweethearts since we were kids, and we've already gotten engaged a long time ago. Our initial plan is to get married this year. But on the day I'm supposed to register my marriage with Riccardo, one of the maids drugs me. My half-sister, Elena Ricci, who shares the same father as me, puts on my gown and walks into City Hall with Riccardo on my behalf. When I wake up, I find out that Elena is already Riccardo's legitimate wife. Rage overwhelms my senses immediately. I rush to the bar to confront Riccardo, only to overhear his conversation with his friends outside the private room they are in. "You really are a genius, Riccardo! You're engaged to Marcella, yet you choose to marry Elena! If Marcella refuses to marry Giovanni, she can only remain your secret lover! "This way, you'll have both sisters as your lovers! Wow, you really are lucky!"

I took the casino business Angelina, my stepsister, had always wanted. The very next day, the heir of the Corleone family who was Angelina's childhood companion knocked on my door. With that deep, captivating face, he asked, “Principessa Annelise, what’s the point of those bloody businesses? Why don’t I take you to enjoy a life of real pleasure?” So, I agreed without hesitation. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I sealed those lips I had long wanted to taste. After that, I began frequently skipping internal mafia meetings. I let the businesses in my hands fall into decline, little by little. I spent extravagantly. Every day, I only cared about indulging in pleasure with Lorenzo in high-end clubs and private yachts. That was until my father, the don, fell gravely ill. The night before the family leaders gathered to choose the new don, he served me in bed and asked me to hand over control of the family to Angelina at the meeting. I knew that was his true purpose for approaching me. However, this time, I only quietly touched the don’s ring hidden beneath my pillow, the symbol of the family’s highest power. “You’ve given me a great experience this past year. But the power of the don is too tempting. For the next game, I won’t be playing with you.”

Two exes—who haven’t spoken in years—are forced to swap apartments for a month due to a housing mix-up caused by a mutual friend. She moves into his stylish city loft; he ends up in her cozy small-town house. At first, they leave petty notes criticizing each other’s lifestyle (like “Who needs this many candles?!” and “Why do you own a sword?!”). But soon, they start rediscovering each other—through texts, video calls, and unexpected visits.