Margaret Rutherford: An Autobiography As Told To Gwen Robyns

"You don't have to feel uncomfortable because of me."  "Someone stole something valuable from me, I'm only here to get it back.  "I'll be off with the girl who stole my heart soon." He said calmly.  I was shattered, he had come for someone else. She was probably his new mate. I was sad to see he moved on so easily after rejecting me. I could feel my heart get torn to shreds. I couldn't help but get curious about what his new mate looked like, or who she was. Tears of jealousy choked my heart, trying to force it's way through my eyes.  I took a deep breath and forced a smile, I was never going to let him get the best of me. I turned to him wearing a bright smile. "Good luck."

LOSING FAITH: They decide to open their marriage to outside adventures, and she goes further than they agreed.ROLL THE DICE: He was sent to open a new office and discovers a lady with a tragic past who he can’t get out of her mind.TO BE CHERISHED: She was caught cheating, and even though he’s willing to take her back, she isn’t sure she wants to go.HIS TO COMMAND: He was sent to Savannah to avoid scandal, but scandal seems to like to follow him.SHARING HEARTS: A love triangle that started in Losing Faith continues as the three people in the relationship struggle to find their way.Dive into The Rutherford Series with sexy heroines and the powerful men who can’t get enough of them as they each find their way in the world of business as well as the steamier side of relationships.Each of these sizzling romance novels has a happily-ever-after and no cliffhangers!The Rutherford Series is created by R.C. Wynne, an eGlobal Creative Publishing author.

After the plane crash, my body was never recovered. My soul drifted back to the home I hadn't stepped foot in for five years. They didn't know I was dead. They were still waiting for me to come home for Christmas. When my mom got the call from the airline, she froze for a long time, completely at a loss, before breaking down in tears. I followed them as they went to the memorial crash site. That was when I noticed something strange—I could see their levels of regret hovering above their heads. My brother's regret level read: 40%. My father's showed: 60%. Even my sister-in-law had 30% over her head. But my mother's regret level? It flashed a cold, unchanging 0%.

On August 23, the Metropolitan Police entered a well-appointed flat at 36 Suffolk Street, in the heart of London. In the flat, they found an ensuite bathroom; in the bathtub, they found a padlocked bag, and in the bag, they found the body of Tina Davis Tina, a brilliant mathematician, worked in Cheltenham for GQHC, Britain's domestic eavesdropping agency. She lived in London on secondment to MI6, Britain's Secret Intelligence Service, and the block of flats where they found her body is an MI6 "safe house reportedly". Uninterested in potential national-security angles, the police immediately announced they were looking for clues to Tina's mysterious death in the details of her private life. But they didn't make much headway. A month after discovering her body, they still hadn't determined the cause of death, although they had admitted the case was "complex" and "unexplained." It seemed like a job for Quintus Noone Fortunately, he happened to be available.

It was my sixth year with the Mafia Don. On the night of my birthday, he came home with a young, beautiful stranger by his side. Everyone thought I would break down or fall apart because of his betrayal. Instead, I smiled, my fingertips brushing lightly over the diamond ring on my ring finger. What they didn’t know was that I had come for revenge. Six years ago, he killed my father and my fiancé. So, I remained by his side, waiting for the right moment to send him to hell. How could I have fallen for him?

My mom always said, "I've never played favorites. "You and your brother mean exactly the same to me." She said it so often I almost believed it. Growing up, anything my brother had, I had too. If he got a new pair of sneakers, so did I. If he signed up for coding classes, I was enrolled in the same ones. Even this year, when we came home for the holidays, my mom smiled as she handed each of us a neatly-packaged designer shopping bag. "I picked these out for you two at the store. One for each of you, exactly the same. "These outdoor brands are expensive, you know. A single jacket costs thousands. I'd never buy one for myself, but I don't mind splurging on you two." I took the jacket. It was well-cut, structured, and looked high-quality. A small warmth stirred in my chest. However, when I tried it on, the collar felt oddly irritating against my skin. Frowning, I pulled back the lining to check. There was a ring of yellowed sweat stains around the label, and tiny flakes of dandruff were caught in the Velcro. A faint musty smell lingered on the cloth, mixed with the stale odor of cheap tobacco. It was sour and impossible to ignore.