All Roommates Love

After being married for five years, my husband, Harvey Jepson, brings his first love, Debbie Grayson, home after a six-month business trip. Debbie is over three months pregnant. Harvey says it's hard for her alone, so she's temporarily living with us. I say no, and Harvey warns me to know my place. His scornful tone seems to hint that he's forgotten this villa was a wedding gift to me. He and his family have been leeching off me for the past five years. This time, I'm cutting all of them off. I smile and call my assistant. "Draw up a divorce agreement for me now. To think a live-in husband would have the nerve to bring his mistress home so boldly."

After pulling an all-nighter to finish a group assignment, I wanted only one thing: sleep. I did not even get 10 minutes. My roommate, Ronda Jones, burst into the dorm, raging about class. She shouted into her headset and turned our room into a storm of insults and keyboard slams. When I quietly asked her to keep it down, she turned on me instead. Then the power went out, and a 5-dollar electricity bill became the excuse she had been waiting for. I refused to split it. That single decision set everything in motion.

On New Year's Eve, my own brother slapped me three times. He stood there, full of himself, and spat at me in disgust. "This is my house. Who do you think you are, coming in here and telling me what to do? Get out. You're nothing but bad luck. If you dare stay, I'll hit you again." He seemed to have forgotten something. The house he was living in was the one I had bought for Mom. The jewelry his wife wore was all paid for by me. The money in his children's hands was the generous allowance I had just given them. My face still burning, I looked around at the others. My sister-in-law curled her lips into a mocking smile and let out an icy snort. The two children stared at me with open hostility. Mom, who had called me there tonight for my birthday, stood silently in the corner. Just like always, her eyes were red, yet she said nothing. At that moment, something in me snapped.

DISCONTINUED INDEFINITELY ********************************** WARNING CONTAINS SEXUAL CONTENT ********************************** Ashlee is a trouble maker who has been expelled so many times that she drove her parents to the edge of insanity. They had run out of ideas on how to get her to straighten up so they decided to send her to an all boys private school where her roommate and all of her classmates are, you guessed it, boys! Once she gets used to the nonstop flirting and staring she makes friends with a number of the guys and quickly realizes that half of them have crushes on her. Will being put here be a punishment or a hidden blessing, only time and her unique experience will tell in the end. ********************************** "You're a girl." He stated coldly glaring at me "You're a boy." I countered raising one eyebrow ********************************** "Ugh stop staring." I stated before adding "Where can I take a shower?" "Um well the showers here are down the hall but they're not private at all." Matt stated "We could guard the door for you so no guys go in." Max added "Awwwww thanks guys, should I strip in front of the whole school now or when you let them in the showers while I'm naked?" I replied sarcastically "Awe Ashlee we wouldn't do that." Matt said "But I wouldn't mind a Private showing." Max added with a wink

Rapper by day. Father of two by night. Khalan is popin' on the rap scene right now but he has a secret. Adam is a proud father of two beautiful girls. But when someone asks about the other dad, he can’t tell the truth. He is getting tired of his family being a secret.

"Keep this ring as a promise that I will marry you when all of this is over." Isla Rae de Catalina is living the life. Good career, loving and supportive family and friends. She was everyone's favorite until she met Kade Edward Doyle, the man who has been unknown to her until he sang at one of her runway shows. How would the two live their love?

After seeing the engagement invitation of her beloved man Anya Arora ran away like a coward. So picking up her broken heart and pride, distancing with everyone and binding herself with new shackles of promises, she left but she never knew she will met a devil who will make her life upside down.

It was our wedding anniversary when my husband's high school sweetheart posted a sonogram picture on her social media, with her captioning a public thank-you to my husband: [Thank you to the man who's been there for me for ten years, and for giving me a son.] The room spun, and anger surged through me as I quickly commented: [So, you're proud of being a homewrecker?] Almost immediately, my husband called, his voice full of rage. "How can you think such disgusting things? All I did was help her with IVF, fulfilling her dream of becoming a single mom. "And by the way, Ruby only needed one try to get pregnant, while you’ve been through three rounds with nothing. Your body is useless!" Just three days ago, he told me he was going abroad for business—ignoring my calls and messages the entire time. I thought he was just busy. However, it turned out he was with her, attending her prenatal checkup. Half an hour later, Ruby posted again, showing off a table full of delicious food. [I got tired of French food, so Ash made me all my favorite dishes. He’s the best!] I stared at the pregnancy test in my hand, the joy I had felt earlier now completely gone. After eight years of love and six years of swallowing my pride just to keep the marriage alive, I’m finally ready to let go.

While I was five months pregnant, my husband, Randall Harris, accompanied his assistant to the hospital for an IV drip.   He even posted a selfie with her on social media.   I called him, and he lied straight to my face, saying he was stuck in a meeting at the office.   When I confronted him, he fought with me, gave me the cold shoulder, and then went straight back to his assistant for comfort.   “Are you sure you don’t want to notify the baby’s father? The surgeon asked me. “After this surgery, you won’t ever be able to have children again.”  I closed my eyes.  “He’s dead to me.” 

I gave birth prematurely, just twenty days before the due date. Two hours after I entered the surgery room, I had a stillborn baby. I did not cry at all. I did not even spare a glance at the dead baby. I endured the pain from childbirth and calmly walked into the hospital nursery. After the door was tightly shut, I turned down the temperature of the air-conditioning. The temperature inside the nursery would be too cold for newborns to bear after an hour. The doctors and parents were begging me on their knees to let their babies live. They screamed and cried. They said I was a mother and hoped that I would understand. Instead, I laughed and said, “Yes, I was a mother. But my baby died!” The gynecologist knelt on the floor and begged, “We may be at fault for not being able to save your baby, but these babies are innocent! “Please don’t be reckless just because you lost your baby! You’re so young. You’ll have more babies in the future.” I gritted my teeth and roared, “But my baby isn’t dead! “She’s still alive. I’ll give you one hour. Bring her back to me!” But I was unsure if she would still be alive after an hour.