Blank Pillow Covers Novelas e Histórias

Ever felt being just a white paper having nothing written? Or a white crayon? Like feeling useless? Cause I do. I'm Amira. A Blank Canvas.

Book two. Please read “Our Young Funny Voices” before “Our Blank Canvas”. Exactly one year ago, Vasilisa Krovopuskova left her life in Siberia, Russia behind to pursue a serious relationship with her American girlfriend, Francine Chirilova. Aside from the unwavering love Vasha feels for her lover, the emptiness of not belonging begins to wear on their relationship. With only Francine and their tight knit group of friends to rely on for comfort, a shocking message on Vasilisa’s VK social media account may bring her back to Russia on a temporary basis. Francine struggles to help Vasilisa overcome her insecurities, but they aren’t the only ones having a hard time. With Navy-woman Brody deploying on a two year long assignment, she’s not sure if holding onto what she has with Liza will bring them closer, or destroy everything. Only time will tell. The “more put together” couple of them all, Charlotte and Olivia, face a difficult situation after a drunken mistake brings back a toxic EX girlfriend from Charlotte’s past, and she’s not leaving without a fight. As Francine fights to keep everyone together, she continues battling Anorexia in secret. We’re all free to make our own choices, but we aren’t free from the consequences of those choices. 18 + Strong mature content All Rights Reserved (you know how it goes) Please don't attempt to steal any part of my work.

On the day of the state-wide exam, the Johanson family's real daughter accused me of cheating. Two perfect-score papers lay side by side, identical in every detail. No matter how I argued, I could not clear my name. Everyone sided with her. They branded me a cheater and cast me out of the Johanson family in front of everyone. To appease her, the Johansons went even further. They used their influence to blacklist me across every industry within their reach. I ended up sleeping on the streets. One hardship followed another until my thoughts dulled and a car struck me with such force that it sent me airborne. Even at the end, one question haunted me: "Why did my paper match hers?" Then I opened my eyes and found myself back in the exam room. This time, I turned in a blank sheet. I wanted to see for myself how someone who scored zero could possibly copy anyone.

My cousin, Isabelle Cox, dies of cancer. However, my adoptive parents, who have always loved her the most, don't shed a single tear. Instead, they go on an overseas trip with my adoptive brother, Cedric Cox. After they return, they give me an exquisite doll and ask me to put it right next to my bed every night. My adoptive mother, Vivian Mason, looks at my swollen eyes and smiles tenderly. "Why, you're such a grateful and sentimental kid. This is such a pretty doll. Let it stay by your side and accompany you like it's your sister, alright?" I agree. Later, my body becomes increasingly weak, and I sleep all day. One day, when I wake up, I am horrified to find that I am trapped inside the doll and can't move at all. My deceased cousin, Isabelle, became "me"! Beaming widely, she cuts my hair and also my limbs one by one. Then, she throws my mutilated body into the fire. As the flames engulf me, I see my adoptive family standing behind her. On their faces, they show happy and relieved expressions. When I open my eyes again, I am back to the day when they give me the doll.

Layla Miles lives in a posh upper middle-class neighborhood, married to a neurosurgeon, and has a beautiful three-year-old daughter. The only thing missing is Layla’s past memories. When Layla and Damien decide to host a charity event to raise their profiles in Tampa’s high society, two men from her past pop up out of nowhere. With no memory of her former life - or them, she sets out on a mission to finally discover who she is and what had happened on that fate changing night in New York City four years prior. One woman. Three men. What will be the outcome? Warning: This work of fiction contains sexual scenes and graphic language.

“Marry me? Aren’t you scared of death?”Rumor has it Eliljah Moses is a jinx to everyone close to him, that his ill fate was the reason both his sisters and three fiancees had all died.Sally Summers married him with no expectations, and was ready to embrace death should it come for her.Initially she thought she would have to care for him, but little did she expect to be pampered to the nines by him.In his words, “She’s my woman, only I can bully her.”He also said, “Whoever dares to touch my woman, I’ll be sure to make their lives a living hell.”He even said, “My woman will bear me a pile of children!”

"Tell me how much you want this, Piccolo mio.” .... Assigned to protect, consumed by desire he couldn't control. When a rugged bodyguard is tasked with keeping a captivating client safe, he finds himself torn between duty and his forbidden attraction. Can he shield his heart and his charge, or will their explosive connection put them both in harm's way?

Carlos is a mature man, arrogant, and very sure of himself. Sara, an immature young girl, brave ... but very troublesome. She is just a big inconvenience to him. He is too overbearing and controlling for her. What is the boundary between respect and tolerance? To what extent can two people so different be able to support each other without mistreating each other? Would you trade your ideals and convictions for someone you don't know and who you can't even trust?

I am about to book a room at a hotel owned by Luca Conti, a consigliere under my command, when a sharp voice suddenly cuts in from behind me. "Aspetta. That's not your price." I turn around. A woman wearing a manager's badge stands there with her arms crossed, scrutinizing me as if I am an unsightly stain she can't wait to wipe away. "We don't allow prostitution here," she says coolly. "If you're receiving clients, there will be a fine." As she speaks, she hands me a penalty notice. The charges are clearly listed on the paper. "Illegal guest reception fee: 350 thousand dollars. "Special soundproofing fee: 150 thousand dollars. "Special cleaning fee: 100 thousand dollars. "Total fee: 600 thousand dollars." Receiving clients? I have simply come straight from a Mafia cocktail party without changing clothes—that's all. What exactly does she take me for?" I lift my gaze and answer evenly, "You're mistaken. I am not that kind of person. You can contact the hotel owner, Luca Conti, and ask him who I am." A sneer flickers through Sofia Rossi's eyes. She spits to the side, full of contempt. "Still claiming you are not a puttana? Women like you come here every week. Every single one of them swears she knows him. "Our boss is the consigliere to the Russo family, the most powerful Mafia family in Seneriffe. Do you really think he needs someone cheap like you? "I suggest you pay up now, subito, before your client loses patience and drags you into the street and rapes you." I do not waste another word on her. I take out my phone and send a message directly to my secretary, Marco Bianchi. "Notify Luca. Either this manager, Sofia Rossi, disappears from this city, or he does."

As my due date approached, a massive discrepancy surfaced in the Galante family's arms accounts. The leadership made a swift decision. They sent me, Sophia Vitale, the Don's wife, the woman everyone claimed had nothing better to do, to personally inspect the armory and verify the inventory. I believed it was a routine check. I never imagined my husband's godsister, Monica Leone, would use it as cover to blow up the entire armory. The explosion was deafening. Fire ripped through the sky. Concrete collapsed around me, crushing my body as a searing pain tore through my abdomen. I did not call my husband on his highest-priority private line. Instead, I sent a distress signal to my father. In my previous life, the moment the explosion occurred, I had used that same priority channel to call my husband. The child had survived. Monica had been obliterated in the blast. My husband had claimed he did not blame me. He had said Monica was an outsider and that an heir mattered more. He had spared no expense, hiring elite obstetric specialists to monitor me day and night. He had told me to stay calm and wait for delivery. Then, on the day I went into labor, he personally locked me and the baby inside an abandoned warehouse drenched in gasoline and burned us alive. "If you hadn't deliberately delayed, she wouldn't have died. Do you really think playing the innocent victim could fool me? Dream on," he said. "You like playing with fire so much? Fine. I'll let you experience her despair yourself." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the armory, at the exact moment of the explosion.