What Year Was 'Lips On The Tip Of A Knife' Published?

Katherine Salazar. A girl from Spain whose life changed the day she first held a knife. She learned early that silence can be sharper than any blade. Her weapon a slender knife, always hidden beneath her clothes. Her adopted parents named her "Ghost Knife". She moved like a shadow—silent, precise, deliberate, clean. As she grew into a woman, her beauty captivated—and haunted— people around her in ways almost impossible to resist. When she took a mission she wasn’t supposed to handle herself, it tore her world apart, everything changed. She was caught by two brutal twin—opposites in behavior, different in power, identical in blood. Instead of ending her life, they chose to use her skills for their own dirty work. But then things got complicated. When both twin fell in love with her. A forbidden love, dangerous and consuming. Her next mission was supposed to be simple: eliminate the twins’ greatest enemy. But the target… was her “dead” father. "Dad?” My voice barely escaped, thick with disbelief, my vision blurred by unshed tears. “Kat?" His voice trembled with shock, more startled than I had ever seen him. In a fluid motion, he lifted his left hand, swift, precise—and the guards froze, stopped as if caught in a web of unseen power. " Y..You , I saw..." My words faltered, the knife quivering in my grip.

They say fire is cleansing, a transformative type of destruction. After a forest fire, nature heals and grows stronger. It's forever changed but not destroyed. Fire is painful but beautiful, something that is warm but left unattended can be devastating. In the flames I was broken, destroyed, but in the ashes I was restored. Left floating in the grey, the smoke that led me through a divine transformation. Now I'm left adrift, the dark my only guide in the smoke, the blue of the sky, of his eyes, the only guide in the light. Forever torn and pulled between the two, unsure who I can trust and terrified to make the wrong choice. Not just my life hangs in the balance, but the lives and well being of all of humanity. It just might be too much for these wings to bare.

At the end of the year, I went to the spa and discovered a stranger had been using my VIP card. When I logged into my personal profile, the last three treatment records were not under my name. The preference section listed specific details about someone else. She was allergic to rose essential oil, preferred lavender, and her heating pad temperature could not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Her menstrual cycle fell around the 15th of each month, so no waist or abdomen treatments during that time. I stared at the screen, my palms turning cold. Only my husband, Zachary White, knew this password. At the time, he said he needed it to check the balance and renew my membership. I scrolled down and found a system note at the bottom: [Birthday treatment reserved for December 30, prepared according to Ms. Anderson's preferences.] Today was December 30. My phone vibrated. Zachary had sent a message: [Working late tonight. Won't be home.] Familiar laughter drifted from the hallway. Through the glass door, I watched Zachary walk into the adjacent room with his arm around a woman, the beautician hurrying forward to greet them. "Mr. White, we have Ms. Anderson's birthday treatment ready, just as you requested."

Every witch awakened a gift when she came of age. Mine was simple. I could siphon my husband's fortune. On Christmas Eve, my husband spent 20,000,000 on a ring and proposed to his mistress as if he were buying a headline. The trending page exploded. Everyone waited to see how quickly I would be thrown out. The pathetic wife was finally swept out the door. When I stayed quiet, Jasper Prescott's tone turned playful, almost indulgent. "She's just a kid. She wanted the whole 'moment.' Your place isn't going anywhere." Then he added, as if assigning me a chore, "She's young. She can't handle things. Pay more attention to the engagement party's details." As though he feared I might cause trouble, he slid a black card across the table with casual ease. "Babe, you know what I value most," he said. "You being sensible." I pinched the cold card between my fingers, smiled, and nodded. No one knew the rule hidden inside our marriage. After we married, every time Jasper betrayed me, I took a piece of his fortune, stripping it from him one point at a time and adding it to my own. Once Christmas was over, I would take whatever he had left.

While collecting samples in Antarctica, I was caught in a blizzard. When I finally made it back to the vehicle, I found the fuel tank drained and my thermal suit shredded into rags. I screamed for help, but laughter crackled through the communicator. It was the voice of my husband's childhood sweetheart. "No need to rescue her, you guys! Sophie's got the world record for low-temperature endurance! "Today, let's see if she can hike across the ice in a T-shirt, all on livestream!" Then came my husband's doting voice. "Baby, I've already spoken to the manager. If she pulls this off, you'll get your spot in next month's expedition!" That was when I understood. My husband had turned me into a stepping stone for her future. As I shivered violently in the cold, I begged, "Please, Zachary. After all our years of marriage…" Before I could finish, he cut me off coldly. “Save your body heat and keep walking. Luna's future depends on you. "You've got the stamina anyway, so just hold on for another five kilometers!" At that moment, my heart froze solid. If they wanted me dead, then I would make sure they froze at the base instead. With trembling hands, I raised the axe, aiming it directly at the base's heating pipes.

I was anonymously reported for fraudulent credit card use and arrested. The victim turned out to be my own husband. I pulled out my phone to show them our marriage certificate to prove my innocence, but the police officer frowned as he looked at me. "Ma'am, the Lucas Richardson on this certificate is not your husband. You're still unmarried." I could not believe it and asked the officer to check again immediately. He looked at me with sympathy, but quickly spoke again, "Our records show that Lucas Richardson's spouse is Vivian Clarke and that they have a three-year-old child together. Ma'am, if you cannot prove your relationship with him, you will face criminal detention." I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Six years ago, Lucas had a secretary named Vivian who was obsessively in love with him. On the day Lucas and I got married, she caused a scene and threatened suicide. In the end, he had to personally handle the situation for three days before coming home. It turned out that his solution was to marry Vivian instead.