How Does The Woman In Our House End?

Grace Anderson is a striking young lady with a no-nonsense and inimical attitude. She barely smiles or laughs, the feeling of pure happiness has been rare to her. She has acquired so many scars and life has thought her a very valuable lesson about trust. Dean Ryan is a good looking young man with a sanguine personality. He always has a smile on his face and never fails to spread his cheerful spirit. On Grace's first day of college, the two meet in an unusual way when Dean almost runs her over with his car in front of an ice cream stand. Although the two are opposites, a friendship forms between them and as time passes by and they begin to learn a lot about each other, Grace finds herself indeed trusting him. Dean was in love with her. He loved everything about her. Every. Single. Flaw. He loved the way she always bit her lip. He loved the way his name rolled out of her mouth. He loved the way her hand fit in his like they were made for each other. He loved how much she loved ice cream. He loved how passionate she was about poetry. One could say he was obsessed. But love has to have a little bit of obsession to it, right? It wasn't all smiles and roses with both of them but the love they had for one another was reason enough to see past anything. But as every love story has a beginning, so it does an ending.

“True love stories never have endings.” Dean said softly. “Richard Bach.” I nodded. “You taught me that quote the night I kissed you for the first time.” He continued, his fingers weaving through loose hair around my face. “And I held on to that every day since.”

Dahlia is an African-American young lady with ambitions to become very successful in the Tech industry and help give back to her Mum for all her sacrifices as a single parent. While on her journey to success she encounters some very interesting people and falls deeply in love with the only man she tells herself to avoid at all costs......so what will Dahlia do when Japanese billionaire Dai Japana only wants her in his bed and life despite their misunderstandings.

My wife, Rosalind Judd, has been tearing up our marriage certificate 99 times in the past ten years of our marriage. This is her usual tactic to make me apologize and make amends. The first time, I transfer 100 thousand dollars for Rosalind to come back from her travel abroad with her childhood friend, Jackson Lane. The tenth time, she ruins the anniversary I have prepared meticulously and forces me to immediately help him get back to work. The 50th time, she humiliates me in front of my client during the day and forces me to sign over the transfer agreement to a villa at night, while she has a candlelit dinner with Jackson. ... Now, for the 100th time, she forces me to transfer my company shares. Staring at the love bites on Rosalind's collarbone, I suddenly chuckle. Then, I board the plane decisively. This time, I no longer want her.

On the day I become Alpha Ethan Sadler's mate, he tells me, "Our mate bond is merely to honor the promise between our elders. You will be my Luna by name. You shall have everything in my name, except my love." For three years, I obediently played the role of his mate in name. Then, a socialite named Sophia Kirk hands me a check for two million dollars, urging me to leave Ethan. "Ethan said your mate bond exists only to repay the debts of the older generation. It's a necessary sacrifice. Now, he needs a real family and a mate who can bear his heir. You've wasted three years of his life. It's time to let go." It turns out Ethan already has a lover. It is indeed inappropriate for me to take the place of his Luna any longer. That night, I approach Ethan, who is going through some documents. "You once promised to give me anything I wanted. Does that promise still hold?" Ethan sets down the documents, removes his metal-rimmed glasses, and loosens his tie. His ashen eyes swirl with emotions, and an eager smile curves his lips. "Of course. Tell me what you want." I tighten my grip on the Bond-Breaking Agreement I am holding and place it before him. "I want you to sign this."

The hotel called, politely reminding me that the condoms used last night were unpaid and had been charged to my membership card. I was stunned. I'd been working late until midnight and hadn't set foot in any hotel. I confronted my husband, the only person who knew my card code. Nathan Phelps looked at me, bewildered. "Honey, that hotel costs over $10,000 a night. I'd never go there. It's probably a system error. Someone must have mistyped the card number. I'll file a complaint tomorrow." Unconvinced, I called my best friend, who managed the hotel. "Tracy, check who Nathan was with at the hotel last night. I'm catching him red-handed."