Blowing Raspberries Cartoon

My husband, Matthew Glover, fabricates a scandal to help his childhood sweetheart, reporter Melanie Reed, boost her numbers. "Mrs. Glover Sleeps Around—Multiple Affairs Lead to Repeated Miscarriages." He uses it as a gimmick to grab attention. Next thing I know, my name's in the mud and the internet's tearing me to pieces. When I bring up divorce, Matthew says I'm blowing things out of proportion. "Melanie just started at the TV station. If she doesn't deliver, her coworkers will laugh at her. You're just doing her a favor. It's not like you're actually losing anything." I don't even bother arguing with him. I simply push the divorce agreement toward him. "If you want to help her, go ahead. But we're getting divorced!"

When he pushed her into the water at the alliance banquet — eight months pregnant, fighting for her life while he held another woman and asked if she was okay — something in Ivy finally broke beyond repair. She lost her son in a hospital room Noah never came to. She signed the divorce papers alone at midnight while he was across town blowing up birthday balloons for his first love. And when he finally walked through the door that night smelling like another woman's celebration, he had the nerve to ask if she even cared about the baby. She pushed the papers across the table and said one thing. "Reject me. Tonight.". He still doesn't know their baby is gone. And honestly? Let him find out the hard way. Ivy is done protecting a man who never once protected her.

On International Women's Day, I spent twelve hours straight in a live stream, selling $5 million worth of product. When it came time to settle my commission, my aunt and boss, Sandra Holt, quietly transferred my $400,000 cut into her own account and handed me $500, labeled as a meal stipend. She took my hand with a warm, motherly smile. "Sweetheart, you're still an intern. Taking that much money at your age would hurt your career development. Let me hold onto it for you. Put it toward a car someday." I looked at the sharp calculation behind her kind eyes. I didn't argue. I took the money without a word. That night, I deleted my account and vanished, taking my entire product-sourcing system with me. The next morning, Aunt Sandra stared at a live stream with ten viewers and finally started blowing up my phone.

During the holiday break, my wife, Jayda Glover—the hospital's star surgeon and Chief of Cardiac Surgery—suddenly "had to work overtime." Our third-anniversary hot springs trip? Canceled. That night, I was scrolling social media when a post from her intern, Dillon Tripp, popped up. My ice-queen wife always said her "golden hands" were only for patients. Apparently, they cook now too. She was in a cartoon apron, calmly chopping vegetables. The caption read: [Thank you, Dr. Glover, for personally cooking to comfort me after I was bullied by a patient's family!] I tapped like and left a comment. [White coat to apron. Very domestic.] Ten minutes later, the whole hospital knew Cardiac Surgery's untouchable beauty had broken her rule—just to cook for a younger guy. Jayda called. Dishes clattered in the background. "You really had to embarrass me in public? He got hot water thrown on him by a patient's family today. I was just doing my duty as his mentor! "A pampered professor's kid like you wouldn't know the first thing about how hard broke med students have it. "Apologize to Dillon right now. Otherwise, no matter how much you beg later, I'm not going on that trip with you!" Beg her? I looked at the divorce papers that had just arrived on the coffee table and let out a quiet laugh. I wasn't begging anymore. From this moment on, we were strangers.

When I was struck by a stomach illness, my boyfriend, Charles Fischer, was busy blowing out birthday candles with his assistant, Beverly Wagner. I lay there in excruciating pain, but he didn't even glance at me. Instead, he affectionately stroked her nose.  “Bev is a year older! Make a wish, birthday girl!” Later, after I had fainted and was rushed to the hospital, I called Charles, only for him to ignore me.  Meanwhile, Beverly posted a photo on Instagram. Gifts filled the screen, with the caption, [Yay! Charles is the best ever! Charles and Bev, together forever!] When I confronted him, Charles didn’t care at all. "It's Bev’s birthday. Were you expecting me not to spend it with her? If you can't handle it, we're done!" This was the umpteenth time he'd threatened to break up with me, always confident that I wouldn't dare to leave him.  Not this time.

Brandon Kane, The Gamma of The Southern Werewolves Pack, volunteers for a dangerous undercover mission to locate a long list of missing girls who are all rumored to be auctioned in the largest sex-trafficking business run by a vampire named Kennedy Strauss. Going in with no backup and very little reliable information, Brandon has to face the ugly reality of the underworld business. He has to make his way in and out without blowing his undercover and not putting the people he was sent to rescue at risk. Celeste Diamond is the underworld's renowned assassin known as the Blind Bandit, who works for diamonds. A highly skilled and incredibly sexy, the Blind Bandit is the elite bodyguard of Kennedy Strauss who barely leaves his side. While it seems she is driven by her duty to protect her employer, Celeste's true motive is far greater than her duty to the vampire businessman. She is blind, but it's not her inability to see that concerned him. She sees him coming.

Morgana Georgia has dated Michael Windmill for five years and he promise to marry her as soon as he assume the position of a CEO in his father's company. Table turns, when Morgana caught Michael cheating on her, Instead of him to be remorseful of his act, he told Morgana to her face that she was just a toy he used in blowing off the steam, he said she was never his type, he used her in passing time and she had nothing to offer him. Morgana's world crumbled before her, broken and betrayed, Morgana accepted his rejection. Six months later, on Michael engagement party, Morgana shocked the whole world, in front of the crowd, a white Lamborghini pulled over, Morgana stepped out of the car holding hands with Michael's father, she was now his new wife, Morgana walked up to Michael who was staring in shock "Sorprender...stepson" She laugh in Spanish

Riya Lance was born into power but never freedom. Daughter of a ruthless hotel tycoon and heir to a fading fashion empire, her life was nothing but a cage wrapped in gold. That cage shattered the night she stood before all and declared her divorce, blowing apart the merger that bound her family to the feared Moreau dynasty. She was betrayed, ambushed, and thrown into the sea. She should have died. Instead, she survived; scarred, with broken memories and a burning need for revenge. With new allies in the shadows, Riya rose again, building herself into a ghost powerful enough to strike back. But the deeper she digs, the darker the truth becomes. The Moreaus were only pawns. The true mastermind is the Don; an unseen hand tied to her near death experience, her father’s sins, and the only man she ever trusted: Mateo Rutherfurd. Once her guide. Now her rival. As empires crumble and buried secrets rise, Riya must choose; between love and vengeance, blood and freedom. Because reclaiming her legacy will cost her everything… and survival may demand an unbelievable sacrifice.

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.

After blowing through 15 million, which was my wedding gift from the Masons, I turned myself in for marriage fraud. That was when the housekeeper's daughter, Hannah Castillo, panicked. On May 5th, Castillo Enterprise and Mason Group were set to unite through marriage. I was meant to be the bride, but instead, I was locked away in a dark storage room. By the time I fought my way to the ceremony, Hannah had already finished the wedding using my identity. I went onstage and said I was the Castillos' real daughter, only to be questioned by everyone in the company. The reason was simple: Hannah had been using my name and status openly inside the company for the past six months. Hannah kicked me to the ground and sneered, "You're the housekeeper's kid! How dare you make a scene!" Before I could pull out any proof, the bodyguards Hannah hired dragged me out and dumped me on the road. A car ran into me, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before the wedding.