Drippity Drop Lyrics Novels & Stories

"What's your name?" He asked, making the managers go shut at once. They followed his gaze and it landed on Mallory. Mallory felt her soul being pierced. Did he just ask for her name? Her Wilder didn't even know her name? "Uh... her name is..." "Let her speak for herself, Arlo" Wilder raised his hand at his cousin who zipped up at once. Then, reluctantly, Mallory muttered: "I'm Mallory Harrington." Wilder said nothing, his gaze on her unreadable. Then, she asked. "Don't you... remember me?" "Am I... supposed to know you?" Wilder asked with an unfeigned doubt. This broke Mallory even more. How can her Wilder not recognize her? Her next breath came raggedly, she had to drop her teary gaze to the floor. "How can you not remember me?" She winced. "We were..." ********** What happens when Mallory goes to work one morning and discovers the new CEO who was the soon-to-be heir to one of the richest companies in the world was her ex-husband who had been missing for seven years? How does she tell him she used to be married to him before he went missing? How does she tell him she was still very much in love with him and wanted him back in her life, even if there was someone else? How does she tell him she had twins at home that looked like him? How does she tell him any of these when he couldn't recognize her and acted very cold towards her? What happened to her Wilder?

"Fine. I'd leave. "I reply, and Christiana's jaw hits the ground. "Raymond? "Mr. William calls in awe. "You had no choice. Greenwood, get upstairs and pack all Raymond's things. "Grandma says to me. The last part, she says with her back turned to me, calling out to the head of male helpers in the house. "But I'd be leaving with my wife. "I drop the bomb and grandma freezes. She turns around slowly to look at me. The look of confusion on her face. " Excuse you? "She questions and I smile. "If I'm leaving, I'm taking my wife along. As far as I know, Christiana and I are a married couple and I refuse to go anywhere without my wife. "I reply, and grandma scoffs as she covers the gap between us. "You scheming, little devil. You think you're so smart, don't you? "She says in my face and I look into her eyes. Silently challenging her to do whatever she can to stop me. "Well, my granddaughter will go nowhere with you if she doesn't want to... "Grandma begins. " Actually Grandma, I'm sticking by my husband. "Christiana's voice cuts grandma, and I stare up at her in shock. I thought I'd have to do this with force, and then try my best to make up for it later. But Christiana just shocked the brows off everybody's face. Including mine! *********** A wise man once said, you never really know someone till you give them power. How about family? Is family the same when there's a fight for might and glory?

For three hundreds under vampire rule, the Blood Prince has drawn a new bride from his realms every fifty years. In my previous life, Seraphina was chosen,Lucian’s childhood sweetheart. The night before our bonding ceremony, she burst into our chamber, tears streaming. “Lucian, I’ve been chosen as the Blood Prince’s seventh bride!” she sobbed. “They say he loses control on his wedding night, drains every drop of blood from his bride. None of the first six lived to see dawn. I don’t want to die—please, claim me as your mate!” But Lucian had already claimed me. And by wolf law, an Alpha may bind only one mate at a time. So I step forward, and refused her. The next day, at the altar, Seraphina slit her throat with a silver dagger. Lucian didn’t flinch. He ordered the blood scrubbed from the stones—and proceeded with our ceremony as nothing had happened. However,on our honeymoon, he pushed me into starving wolves. His eyes burned crimson as he snarled, “If you hadn’t tricked me into marking you earlier, Seraphina would be alive. You killed her.” Over a dozen of wolves with gleaming eyes swarmed me in, tore me limb from limb. Then I woke, back on the day the mate-hunger hex seized Lucian. This time, I dragged Seraph-the girl Lucian cherished as most precious jewel,from her house myself, and shoved her into Lucian’s chamber. “Be his cure, and I’ll take your place as the Blood Prince’s bride instead.

Matt Bradford and Dash black are best friends, rich, handsome, irresistible and sexy. Going around the world to make their fortunes. Now, though they have money, power and success, they discover those things mean nothing without a special person to share them. As destiny throws two unique women into their paths, these driven men discover that achieving material success is easy compared to the challenge of forging a close, passionate relationship that will last a lifetime. -------------- Matt Bradford knows his ex, Savannah Carson can't be trusted. He knows that because one year ago, she cheated on him with his brother...and he doesn't think he can ever forgive her for that. But the problem is that, he can't seem to stop thinking about her. Even after a whole year. It doesn't help matters that she seemed to drop out of the face of the earth after their, break up.... And he is worried about her.. Even if he shouldn't be. So he hires an investigator to find her... And he does... But he's not prepared for the attraction he still feels towards this woman who cheated on him... Will he be able to put the past behind him and move on?? Dash Black has a business deal with Neal Patchett and he really doesn't want to loose it. Everything seems to be going well, but Neal Patchett has made one final condition. Dash has to marry his daughter Tess Patchett. Dash thinks it's ridiculous. Who the hell still does this arranged marriage nonsense. He is going to go through with this plan just to get this business deal. And then after that he plans to divorce Tess. But will he be able to go through with his plan when he meets the beautiful and innocent Tess Patchett?

My sister and I slept for a thousand years. Tonight, we would Awaken. We would become true High-Bloods. Our Sire, Countess Lylandra, brought us two men. We had to choose a Blood Thrall. A cold, celibate priest. A young, harmless noble prince. In my past life, Lilith grabbed the prince by the neck and vanished into the shadows. She left me with the cold-hearted priest. The prince's blood was sweet, his soul pure. He was supposed to be the perfect sacrifice for the Awakening ritual. Lilith should have become a High-Blood without any trouble. But she fell for the prince's sweet words and gentle lies. She poured her ancient power into him. She forged a false blood bond to help him seize the throne. On his coronation day, he plunged a dagger dipped in blessed silver into her heart. With his own hands, he carved out her new Blood Core. He offered it to his werewolf allies. Lilith nearly turned to dust. And me? The priest helped me purify my blood. I broke the vampire curse. I no longer feared the sun or blessed silver. I became the legendary Daywalker Queen. Jealousy drove her mad. She used her last drop of power to unleash a kin-curse. It killed us both. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the night we chose our Blood Thralls. This time, Lilith chose differently. She wrapped herself around the priest, a vision of seduction. Her blood-red wings spread, ready to carry him away. My fangs slid from my gums. A choice? Why should I have to choose? The priest and the prince... Both are mine for the taking.

Seven years I spent with Jason Shaw, but I never got a ring. Rather, all I received was an invitation to another person's wedding. That day, as a wedding planner, I was at the rehearsal, making last-minute adjustments. Looking up, I saw the man whom I waited every day to reply to my messages, walking down the aisle, arm in arm with another bride. "Her boyfriend had something urgent come up, so I'm filling in for him," he said, standing straight, his tone light, a small smile on his lips. But his eyes couldn't hide the hurt, like a child who lost his favorite toy. As if that wasn't enough, he told me to hand over my wedding plan. He patted me on the shoulder, saying sincerely, "There's no rush for us. We've got plenty of time. I promise I'll give you an even better wedding. Just help me out this time. It's not like I'm not going to marry you." He didn't know that I had revised the wedding plan hundreds of times, even counted and recounted the bouquets seven times. To me, it wasn't mere work—it was a dream I held for five long years. I didn't argue anymore, just quietly stepped aside. Later, I lay alone in a hospital bed, listening to the rain tapping against the window from outside. I counted each drop as the hours slipped through my fingers. Perhaps those who worked so hard to create happiness for others had lost the right to their own happiness.

"Did you kill him?" The detective asked again."I've already answered you like a thousand times... Yes, he was a monster. Yes, he beat me up a lot but I didn't do it. I didn't kill Jude!" Amanda replied."I'm sorry. I know what it's like to be a victim of abuse and all that, but you need to understand that murder is a serious case too. You'll have to forgive us for asking you continually it's just that you were the closest to him we've got here.""I wasn't. There was someone else he was seeing that knew a lot about him than I ever did," Amanda replied.*******The night was growing colder and the rains seemed to have agitated in full force. Amanda sat on one of the soft leather chairs that squeaked with her every move in the living room with tears in her eyes as she watched the rains drop on the floor forming small pools and waited for Jude to come back. She was worried sick about his whereabouts even though all his presence caused her were pain and more tears. The protruding bump on her stomach, made it quite difficult to move around at ease so she was stuck with calling his busied line while she watched the clock tick its way into the midnight mark.*****A heart rending story told differently. Stronger than Pain captures a dysfunctional Nigerian home where a callous man, beats his wife on a daily basis. Time flies and now he is dead. All the characters have a reason to kill him, but she's their number one suspect. The Question still remains, who pulled the trigger?

My wife Susan had the power to save lives, but when our son was rushed to the ICU and needed her help, she refused no matter how much I begged. While I was crying myself hoarse when I received news that our son was dead, I heard her purring over the phone, "Mark? Don't worry, your puppy's way more important. Of course I'll save it." There was a limit to her power that she could only use it once a month, but she nonchalantly used it for Mark's pet dog! Shaking with rage, I seized her by the collar and bellowed, "We're talking about a human life here, and your son at that! But an animal is worth more than that?!" Susan shook me off, smirking in disdain. "Mark has always been by himself—is there a problem that I took his side? And what could happen to our son when he has his daddy? Stop giving me that attitude!" Just two hours later, Mark posted on social media a photo of him with Susan kissing his pet dog together, with the smug caption: [Who had bet that a son matters more than a dog? Know when you're beaten. Now pay up!] So he had a bet with someone that Susan would choose his dog! Worst of all, Susan lovingly replied: [If Mark wants to win, I'll always be there for him.] Even as I felt heartrending pain, I was laughing coldly as I sent my own reply. [If you all love to bet so much, why not bet when you're gonna drop dead?]

The Moretti Family's Thanksgiving party was in full swing downstairs—crystal clinks, fake laughs, classic mafia gloss. Meanwhile, I was curled up in a servant's room on the third floor. Jackson Moretti's wife. Legally, anyway. My hands were ice. I gripped the ultrasound report like it could anchor me. Three heartbeats. Strong, steady. It was supposed to be a surprise—his big Thanksgiving gift. To the outside world, Jackson was a polished Stanford grad, running a top-tier consulting firm in San Francisco. But behind the scenes? He ran the Moretti empire—cold, calculated, pulling strings in the West Coast's darkest corners. Three years of marriage and we barely spoke, but I still clung to the hope that maybe... maybe there was something real left. Then I heard him downstairs. "You really not letting your wife come down?" "Isabella?" He laughed. "She'd kill the vibe." Another voice chimed in. "Lina's back, right? Wild you married her twin. Which one do you actually like?" Jackson didn't miss a beat. "Isabella's just a stand-in. Quiet. Predictable. I could tell her to drop dead and she'd say 'okay.'" "So when are you ditching her?" "Dunno. She thinks she matters. I'm just playing her." I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sob. A minute later, I was heading downstairs, numb. I brushed my fingers over my belly. "Sorry, babies," I whispered. Triplets. His. He thought I was blind. Weak. Stuck. What he didn't know? A quiet woman, once she snaps—she can burn it all down.

Hi lovely Readers, here's the author. Thank you for reading to the end of this book, and a new book is about to start. Enough spoilers, read on to know what happens. Don't forget to leave your comments. XoXo. "I need to come," I tell her. "Please... yes..." "Come with me..." I drop her to her back and lower myself back in position. My belly presses to hers, and her pretty little nipples feel so sweet against my chest. "I can't..." she whispers. "I'm so... fluttery..." "You can," I tell her. "I promise you, you can." I pause. "And you will. Again, Ashley. Come for me again." I rub, back and forth, my dick pinned between my stomach and her pussy, grinding hard, taking so much fucking care not to spear that tight little cunt and fill her up with my cum. "I'm gonna come all over your sweet little pussy, Ashley." "Yes..." she whispers. "Oh God, please... please, Mr. Mancini..." "Don't call me that," I growl, and I'm on the edge, right on the fucking edge. "What shall I call you?" she asks, and I hear it in her voice, I hear she's thinking it, too. It's in the little tremor, the sweet little hint of lust. My breath is erratic, my cock pulsing as my balls tighten, ready to fucking blow. And I say it. I just fucking say it. "Call me Daddy," I growl. "You can call me Daddy."