Bubble Guppies Police Dance Novels & Stories

At Ryder Quinn’s kindergarten parent-child sports day, I expected my husband, Michael Quinn, to be away on a business trip. Instead, I found Michael on stage, dressed in a ballet tutu, dancing as one of the "little swans" in the fathers’ performance. I had barely taken a step forward when a little girl in a floral dress darted into his arms, calling out to him in the sweetest voice, "Daddy!" There they stood: Michael, his assistant, Janine Carter, and her daughter—all in matching family outfits. The moment our eyes met, Michael quickly pulled away from her, fumbling for an excuse. "Janine’s a single mom. It isn’t easy for her. I was just helping out." I smiled, cold and steady, and handed him the divorce papers. "Then, do me a favor too, Michael. Stop wasting my youth."

[It's an unedited book. Typos and grammatical errors are common] What happens when a mafia and police get in a contracted relationship? They say if two people end up badly in one life, they get another chance in their new life. Shawn and Bella were meant to be together, but what holds them back was the past and secrets. They got to shield their hearts but instead, these two people from opposite sides of the law collide and build fiery attraction among themselves with explosive chemistry and an instant connection. There are no laws for love.

I had a fever, so I boiled myself an egg. I didn’t expect my son to come home and call the police. “There’s a thief in our house,” he told them, dead serious. “She stole one of my eggs.” The officers thought it was a joke. Evan didn’t. “Ms. Blake gave me those eggs. They’re imported. She stole from me, so she should be arrested.” Then he looked at me like I was a stranger. “Mom’s just lazy. She’s pretending to be sick. No wonder Dad likes spending time with Ms. Blake.” I bit down hard to keep from crying. It didn’t help. To him, my silence was proof I was guilty. “Ms. Blake said people who do bad things always act pitiful,” he added coldly. When my husband got home, he didn’t even ask how I was. “You sit around all day and still say you’re sick? Sounds like you just have too much time to be dramatic. If you were half as thoughtful as Sophie, I wouldn’t be this exhausted.” I almost laughed. When I had a 102-degree fever, he said the clinic was too expensive. But when his secretary mentioned her villa felt a little cold, he signed a thirty-million-dollar contract without hesitation. He was never stingy. Just never with me. That was the moment I stopped caring. That night, I stared at the message my father had sent me. And made a decision. Tomorrow, I was going home, not as his wife, not as anyone’s mother, but as the heiress I had always been.

As the upcoming tour approached, the dance troupe suddenly revoked my position as the lead dancer. Anxious to get an explanation in person, I lost my footing due to my distracted state and tumbled down the stairs. While enduring the sharp pain and preparing to call for emergency services, a notification popped up on my phone screen: “Redwood Dance Troupe: Welcome our new lead dancer, Averil Wells, and our generous sponsor, Julian Ford." The accompanying photo featured two smiling faces—my husband of seven years, whom I had secretly married, and his pampered mistress. Julian had his arm wrapped around Averil's waist as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Meanwhile, Averil clung to Julian's neck, her face radiating shyness and delight.

I was sitting at the police station. My landlord scolded me harshly and pointed at my nose. Out of nowhere, my mother called and berated me mercilessly. “Chloe went to your place and disappeared! Did you lose her?!” “I know you’ve had grudges against me and your brother all these years, but how could you take it out on your niece?” In my previous cycle, when my mother told me Chloe was missing, I panicked and searched for her everywhere. Instead of helping, my mom and brother’s entire family dragged me to court without hesitation. I could not understand it. Chloe disappeared on her way to my place. How was that my fault? I begged the police to clear my name and review all the surveillance footage in the city. But the footage showed Chloe arriving at my door that day, and I opened the door for her. After that, she was gone, as if she had vanished into thin air. I stared blankly at the footage of her hopping cheerfully into my apartment. I had no way to explain myself. My sister-in-law lost it. She was convinced I had killed Chloe and threw boiling oil at my face in a fit of rage. I ended up in the hospital. I was disfigured and completely crushed, both physically and emotionally. No matter how hard I tried, I could not recall ever opening the door for Chloe. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Chloe disappeared.

Abeni's world turns upside down when her father can't repay his debt to NYC's most dangerous man - Dmitry Kuznetsov. With her freedom on the line, Abeni gets sucked into Dmitry's glamorous yet treacherous domain. Though Dmitry commands her obedience, Abeni feels an irresistible spark with the magnetic crime lord. As the stakes climb higher, she faces an impossible choice - submit to Dmitry's demands or put her family at risk. Torn between loyalty and desire, Abeni engages in a high-stakes game with the cunning kingpin. But Dmitry never loses control - he wants Abeni, and he intends to own her in every way. Will Abeni give in to Dmitry to protect those she loves? Or will she defy the Russian Devil to save herself?

"Sir, do I need to take off my pants just to go through the bone-setting therapy?" With flushed cheeks, I lie on the massaging bed. Henry Irwin, a therapist with an eight-pack, is tugging down my yoga pants as we speak. "If you want to have the best effects, you can't wear pants at all." Henry grips the hem of my pants before tugging them downward slightly. I quickly grab his hand. "I don't think that's a good idea!" The truth is, I'm already flooding down there. I'm worried that he might see how wet I am when he takes off my pants.

Keanna woke up not remembering what had happened to her. She woke up living with a man she barely knew, who seemed to know her but was always expecting her to do different things. What’s worse, he calls her by a different name. The weird dreams, tiredness, voices in her head and forgetfulness. Would they be able to adjust to this reality? How will they coincide with each other?

The death of her sister shocked Belle but that didn’t stop her to step into the mystery of her sister’s murder. But what if those murderers aren’t done by a supernatural being? Belle’s sister died the day before her marriage. People claimed she had killed herself but Belle didn’t believe the investigation and decided to take it by herself. Everything comes down when she had no rules, and the only way for her to find the bottom of the mystery was to call up a demon. Except, this demon is a willful, selfish, and as handsome as devilish he was. Extract: In fear, Belle tried to dash but a hand had sneaked out from the black fog, holding tightly to her elbow. What followed the tight grip on her arm was a voice that sounded deep— deep enough to sound as though he hell was shallower compared to him. "Now, now, where are you running, little prey?" Belle didn't know what she had done. She didn't know what force had caused her to activate what she did. She didn't know what had happened either as her mind was slow to grasp her surrounding. But there was one thing she knew after staring back at the bright red eyes across her. She was looking at a demon. She had called a demon.

After being dumped for the 99th time for being a “chatterbox,” I finally met my soulmate, Lysander Thorne. As the Mafia godfather, he was a man of few words, but listened to every single word I said with rapt attention. His proposal shattered the curse that had doomed me to a hundred rejections. But, I discovered a fatal flaw in Lysander after we got married. Whatever he spoke to me, he never exceeded ten words. I thought it was his stoic personality until I gave a hand to a girl being harassed by a thug at the bar. At the police station, the girl asked, “Has your husband not arrived yet? My friend will pick me up and you can leave with us.” The next second, I saw Lysander rushing in, looking utterly disheveled. “Elara Thorne! Why do you stir up trouble on your very first day back home? You've got wings of your own now, haven’t you? Did I ever tell you to stay safe firstly when something happened? Stop being so impulsive!” It turned out Lysander could get emotional. How ridiculous! When Lysander entered, his eyes were solely fixed on Elara. I looked at him with a blank expression, and wordlessly walked out of the police station.