Books On Procrastination

On the Northwind Trail, just before sunrise, my flashlight cut across the inside of the SUV and landed on five lifeless bodies. My hands shook as I dialed 911. "Hello? I'm on Route 296, the Northwind Trail. Everyone in my car… is dead." The operator's voice was calm but quick. "Please confirm your location. Officers are on their way." My words dropped heavy and flat, like stones hitting the ground. "I'm on Route 296, about three miles east of the mountain pass. The plate number is NA318X. Five people inside the car are dead… and I'm the only one alive."

Emilia was married off to a mafia billionaire, William, by her wicked mother, Isabella, after falling victim to fraud. Marriage is supposed to be a place full of peace of mind but, for Emilia, it was a living hell. She realized that her husband only wanted her to satisfy his urge and he didn't love her. Just as she was about to request a divorce, she discovered that her husband was the demon that initiated the fraud and ruined her mother's investing business to lure her back into the criminal squad. Now, she's ready to take revenge. But how will she do so when her wicked husband is a mafia boss who does everything in his capacity to achieve his aim?

Elise was cruelly pushed down the staircase after a fiery confrontation with her husband and his mistress. She thought her life was over, but when she opened her eyes, she discovered she had gone back a year in time—back to when she still had a chance to rewrite her story. The first step in her new life was to cut ties with the man who betrayed her. He had saved her in her darkest moment, only to deceive and destroy her in the end. This time, Elise vowed to steer clear of her past mistakes, rebuild her family's legacy, and make everyone who wronged her pay for their sins. However, as she climbed the ladder of success, an enigmatic and captivating man entered her life, challenging her resolve. Elise wanted nothing to do with love again, convinced it would only hinder her, but his persistence began to chip away at the walls she had built around her heart.

After receiving the report for an STD test, I went back to the barbeque restaurant, and there I ran into a young woman who was about three months pregnant. She asked me to let her cut in line, and, feeling sorry for her, I agreed to help her out. I quickly made arrangements for her and made sure she had a seat. But to my shock, after she finished her meal, she had a miscarriage. The girl posted about the incident online, and before I knew it, I was trending on social media, facing a wave of cyberbullying. The internet users went even further, digging up my health records and finding that everything came back positive. [She's positive for everything—she's clearly a woman with a messy private life!] [No wonder she caused the woman's miscarriage just by being near her—she's a biological hazard!] The cyberbullying got so bad that it pushed me into depression. Even my fiancé turned against me, accusing me of being filthy and breaking up with me. The emotional weight became too much, and in my pain, I drove straight into a reservoir. Meanwhile, the girl gained millions of followers online and skyrocketed to fame as a popular influencer. It was only after I died that I learned the shocking truth—this girl was my fiancé's first love. To boost her own popularity, she and my fiancé had come up with this entire scheme together. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day when she asked me to let her cut in line.

On our wedding night, my wife demanded that I wear a blindfold. She said her body was meant only for her true love. The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, and I snapped, "Are you my wife or his?" She shot back even louder, defiance blazing in her eyes. "I married you. Does that mean I have to show you my body? Coercion is still coercion, even in marriage. My body is only for Matt to see because you simply don't deserve it." Later, she said she wanted to truly be my wife. I found myself thinking she wasn't worthy anymore.

On my wedding night, Sean Boswell was with his first love when I suffered a miscarriage as my kidnappers tortured me. I begged endlessly for him to save me, only for him to laugh, "You were just demanding a divorce in the morning, and now you're faking a kidnapping so that I'd come back? Is that the only thing you can do?" Eventually, when I gave up and stopped clinging on being Mrs. Boswell, he chased me to the airport, pleading with a crack in his voice, "Just stay, Anna. Let's make things how it used to be."

In the second year of our marriage, which Brett Mason had secured through relentless means, he brought home his latest conquest—a stunning blonde. As the door swung shut, he ran his fingers through her silky hair, flashing me a smug, triumphant grin. "Wanna join us? You might learn a thing or two about not being such a dead fish." I could still recall how he once adored my hair, claiming that just stroking it would melt away his deepest worries. It turned out any woman could serve that purpose. In that instant, a profound sense of release washed over me. I retrieved the divorce agreement I'd stashed away in a drawer and handed it to him. "Sign it, and I'll make room for her." My days were numbered, and I had no intention of wasting what little time remained entangled in his resentment.

A homecoming banquet was organized for my wealthy boyfriend’s first love. At the banquet, he forced me to drink an entire glass of Whisky, even though I was pregnant, just to make his first love happy. My abdomen was in excruciating pain, and blood was seeping through my white dress. He kissed his first love in front of me as his friends cheered him on. As I was losing consciousness, I heard a cold remark. “Ignore her. She’s just a mistress. She won’t be able to live without me.” When I woke up in the hospital, I caressed my flat stomach and wanted to send him a photo of the medical report detailing my miscarriage. However, I realized that his profile picture had been changed to a photo of his first love’s side profile. He even blocked me again. However, this time, I did not beg him as I had in the past. Instead, I booked a flight ticket to leave the country.

They destroyed her father. Now she's racing straight into the heart of enemy territory. Mia Chen has one rule, never let them see your face. As the underground racing legend "Ghost Rider," she's untouchable until a rigged race tears off her mask and exposes her identity to the worst possible person. Dax Steele, VP of the Iron Wolves MC, the club that bankrupted her father and drove him to an early grave. Now she owes $50,000 to men who don't accept apologies, and Dax offers her a deal she can't refuse, race for the Iron Wolves in the inter-club championship, and he'll clear her debt. But working for her enemy means living in his world, sleeping under his roof, and discovering that everything she believed about her father's death might be a lie. Dax has secrets of his own, evidence that his father was framed, and the real culprit is still out there. He needs Mia's skills on the track and her mechanical genius in the garage. What he doesn't need is the fire she ignites in his blood every time she defies him. As they dig deeper into the past, attraction sparks into something dangerous. Because in the biker world, loyalty is everything and loving your enemy could get you both killed. She came for revenge. She stayed for the truth. She'll risk everything for him.

"No offense but you are always so grumpy, it's actually kind of cute." I bluntly say to him and watch him throw me a nasty glare, I just giggle at that. "I'm not." he defends himself in a calm yet stern voice keeping his face emotionless. "sure." I find myself saying sarcastically. I think I'm too drunk  because there is no way a sober River will have the courage to hold a conversation with a very grumpy Killian. I expect another scary glare to come towards me but instead I meet with a soft gaze that stares at me with an unreadable expression. "I'm not." This time he says softly, I see him biting back a small smile and , he smiles. I've never seen him smiling before, not this way. Standing on the edge of life, River breathes in and lets himself adjust into a new life, into a new family. After a horrifying past he finds his life wrapped around a shaggy orphanage and several foster homes which makes it hard to believe that he is actually being adopted. Having a family was always a desire of him but to his burnt luck, he doesn't feel like he belongs in his adoptive family. Everyone and everything around him make it clear that he wasn't born to be happy. River is waiting for another push, one last push to end it all and fall from the edge and that's when a grumpy looking Killian Price steps into his life. River can't decide if Killian is the saviour or the devil himself. River's life meets with unexpected secrets mixed with burning desire, adorning the melancholic attire. Soon, he finds out he isn't the only one standing on the edge of the cliff, or he realises he is far from the edge.