Beauty And The Jamaican Don Mga Nobela at Kwento

“You don't think you're still worth thirty million, do you?” His words were a hammer, and they smashed what was left of my dignity to dust. I bit down and fought the tears with everything I had. I couldn't cry. I would not cry in front of this heartless man. “Thirty million. I'll pay you back.” “I don't want it!” Raphael cut me off. “Scarlett, you think I miss thirty million?” “Remember, you're the one walking out. This is all your choice. And this diamond, I'll be giving to my Donna.”

good—fine as hell was a better description, Jesus forgives me. Most of the men I had come across in my nineteen years of life, were parish men and manservants—I had grown up in the church, after all. And these men could only pass for moderate looking, in their white garments and dull countenances. I had never set eyes on a man as handsome as Don Damon, or even close. Not even one as intimidating as him. “If you keep gawking at me that way, I might just have to bend you over on this table,” Don Damon said, drawing me out of my thoughts.

"Don Brocchi said that for the sake of our baby, he'll give me everything you have. An infertile woman like you should've left the Brocchi family already instead of embarrassing yourself. "You know what? I'll even allow you to stay on the island and give you a respectable job so you can support yourself." I stared at the screen, neither ruffled nor tempted to reply. Instead, I simply congratulated her in my mind. "You'll have your wish fulfilled very soon, Anna, and so will I. Tomorrow, I'll say goodbye for good." Meanwhile, the household staff kept texting me nonstop, asking where I was and urging me to come home. "Please return, Donna. Don Brocchi keeps asking where you went and when you l

As always, his father was dressed in a sharp, Armani suit. He angled his dark eyes on Nateand a sly grin formed at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t be rude, Nate,” he said. “You are acquainted with Jasmine and Cassandra. Say hello.” Nate offered the call girls a curt nod, but wouldn’t hold their flirtatious gazes. The mere reminder of them turned his stomach. Months ago, in an effort to keep Nate relaxed and help his head stay in the game, Porter had hired the women to pay him a visit. It had been an impulsive and admittedly fun night, but had left Nate feeling empty and unsatisfied the next day. It hadn’t been the first time his father had made that kind of arrangement for him, and wouldn’t

Christopher Jamieson was a god among men for playing Time at 5:30 am! He was pounding on the treadmill but this time he wasn't wearing his hoodie, just a t-shirt and sweat pants. She caught her breath and her steps faltered. She had never in her life seen such a specimen of a man. His body was sheer perfection! His back formed the most perfect V down to a narrow waist and a round butt that begged to be pinched. His arms were wire tight with ropes of muscles. His short-sleeved shirt allowed her to see that Christopher Jamieson was a ginger! He was covered in freckles…tons and tons of brown freckles over his pale skin.

She was at the beach. “I’m at the beach. Jamaicans are really nice people. I love it here”, she said excitedly. “I’m glad”, he replied. “When are you getting off work? I miss you”, she pouted her lips. “In a few minutes, baby”. “Yay! I met Omar today. Omar say hi”, she said and turned the phone to a dark skinned man with dreadlocks. He had a muscular build and could pass as a man in his late twenties. He felt a twinge of protectiveness sprouting up.