Eating Healthy Quotes

Excerpt; Mate!” I placed a shocked hand over my mouth. I hadn't intended to blurt that out, but it had just happened. My wolf had just growled that out. Aaron was my mate? So he had not been lying when he’d said I was his mate? This was the strangest thing to have ever happened to me. I had no idea how to respond, I sat still, watching him. “Finally, you agree too.” His face was blanketed in some emotions that had something within my chest moving funny. “I…I…” I swallowed, my gaze transfixed on him, in his eyes, unable to look anywhere else. His sterling grey eyes staring as though they could see through my soul. He drew nearer, I felt my body leaning towards him too. And in seconds our lips had locked on each other’s. Fire exploded in my mouth down to the other parts of my body. I wound my arm around his neck, taking the kiss deeper. Even within the confines of the car where body contact was limited, I was still feeling the flame of attraction burning me up greedily, eating away at my resistance and rationality. His thumb trailed over my breast, the moan that escaped my lips was involuntary and the liquid pull below my stomach grew intense. Abruptly, he broke off the kiss, our lips were a swollen evidence of what had happened. “Let me take you inside.” Humiliated for almost all her life and then thrown out of the pack she had grown to call home, she didn't expect that fate could ever smile at her. Once a taunted girl, now an Alpha's stepdaughter. What more does fate have in stall for her? "Hey mate! Wanna play?"

I check on family businesses in the countryside with my girlfriend, Mildred McClure, in tow. At noon, we stop by my uncle, Barron Cortez's, place for a simple lunch. Just as we are getting ready to leave, his new wife, whom he married just six months ago, Hilda Ross, rushes out and demands that we settle the bill. "Elden, you two just had the Supreme Farmhouse Set Meal, which is 1,888.80 dollars, and your girlfriend picked three organic, pesticide-free tomatoes in the garden. That's 199.80 dollars. "With an 80% service charge, your total comes to 3,800 dollars." Mildred is stunned. "Elden, do we have to pay to eat at your uncle's place?" I start to feel embarrassed, and my expression darkens as I look at Hilda, my supposed aunt, who's barely any older than me. "I've grown up eating at my uncle's place and never paid a single penny. Besides, your prices are downright outrageous!" Hilda calmly whips out a price menu and righteously declares, "That's all ancient history. Now, we're running a farmhouse business where all prices are clearly marked, so everyone pays the same rate. "Barron said you're some big boss in the city. Surely you're not going to stiff us over a little bill, are you?" She steps in front of the gate to block the exit with her body and shoots me a contemptuous look. "Even family settles their accounts. If you don't pay up today, don't even dream about stepping through this door!" While Mildred panics, I laugh in disbelief before taking out my phone and dialing Barron's number. "Uncle Barron, Hilda wants to settle accounts between family, so don't you think it's time we settled our accounts too?"

After giving birth to Alpha Wesley Silvermoon's pup, I fell into severe postpartum depression. Whenever the scent he left on me began to fade, I couldn't help but have the urge to hurt myself. It was Wesley who held me tight in his arms, kissing my forehead repeatedly, saying, "Don't be afraid, Maggie. The pup and I will stay with you, always." Every morning, he took me to see a therapist. In the afternoon, he handled the pack's affairs. At night, he fed Brett the pup himself. The dark circles beneath his eyes grew heavier by the day, yet he never once complained. Until one day. Brett was crying for his mother, while I hid in the bathroom, hurting myself. When Wesley saw what happened, he completely lost it. He grabbed me by the throat viciously. "If you don't want a pup, you shouldn't have had one! You gave birth to it, but you can't even take care of it! You don't deserve to be a mother!" He bellowed, "How much longer are you going to torment this family? You want to die so badly? Fine! I'll help you!" The moment he said that, he instantly came back to his senses. He broke his wrist and apologized to me. I didn't say anything, merely staring blankly at the phone that had fallen to the floor. The screen was still lit. 37 missed calls. All from the same name. Rowena Sawthorne. She was someone who had recently returned to the pack. Wesley's first love from his youth. She was healthy, beautiful, confident. She and Wesley were once the celebrity couple that everyone admired. Even Brett, whom I had nearly died giving birth to, would smile when she held him in her arms. Perhaps only she was worthy of being his mate, worthy of being Brett's mother. Maybe, this was for the best. At last, I could die without any worry.

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

"Jett?" My voice trembled. "Shhh, Bunny," he murmured, tilting the bottle and pouring the liquor over my p***y. The cold sting hit my swollen folds, and I jolted up, gasping as the burn spread through me. "Ahhh—!" I nearly buckled from the mix of cold fire and his hot tongue as he went back to eating me. My body jerked off the table, chasing the torment I knew I couldn’t withstand. He pulled back, eyes dark, smirking as his tongue followed every drop running down my thighs. "F***," he groaned. "You taste even better with whiskey on your pussy." --- I thought my biggest mistake was crushing on Jason Maltideon—my best friend, the boy I’d spent my life yearning for—only for him to reject me the moment the Goddess fated me to him. But my real mistake? Giving myself to the wrong man. His twin brother—Jettison Maltideon. He’s everything I should fear: wild, reckless, a walking sin wrapped in leather and gasoline. The kind of man who fights too hard, drinks too much, and smirks like he knows exactly how to ruin me. I hate him. I hate that he looks just like the man who shattered my heart. I hate that he knows my darkest secrets—and doesn’t care. But most of all, I hate that when he touches me, I burn. Jettison wants me. He doesn’t take no, and he’s made it clear he’ll chase me until I break. Now, with the Moon Goddess pulling our strings in a storm of betrayal, forbidden bonds, and a sickness tearing our pack apart, I’ll have to decide— Is Jettison my ruin? Or the only wolf who was ever meant to save me? Note: Rated 18+. Dark romance, morally complex characters, and triggering themes.

“You said you wanted to taste freedom, right? Then, allow me to show you what freedom tastes like.” — Kirill Yevgenyevich Ivanov — Nang nakawin ni Anastasia ang pitaka ni Kirill Ivanov, akala niya'y pera lamang ang mawawala sa bilyonaryo. Pero maling-mali siya. Dahil ang tunay na ninakaw niya ay ang atensyon ng lalaki—isang pagkakamaling magiging sanhi ng panibagong yugto ng buhay niya.  Sa liblib na isla na pagmamay-ari ni Kirill, paniniwala niya ay kamatayan na ang magiging kabayaran ng kaniyang mga kasalanan. Ngunit laking gulat niya nang nagdesisyon itong gawin siyang sekretarya. Inaakala niyang lumambot na ang puso ng binata, pero kalaunan ay nalaman niyang patibong lang pala ang lahat, isang bitag. Kirill doesn’t want revenge—he wants ownership. Her body, bound by lies that taste like devotion. Her mind, poisoned by secrets only his hands can unravel. Her soul, seduced by promises of freedom… a deceptive illusion.  But when a forbidden spark ignites between predator and prey, their twisted passion threatens to shatter the line between salvation and damnation. Pero hanggang kailangan ba mahuhumaling si Tasia sa ipinagbabawal na lasa ng sarap na ipinalalasap ni Kirill?  How much can Kirill destroy just to claim what’s his? Their story is a lethal game of desire and deceit, where love wears the face of ruin— and surrender might be the deadliest sin of all. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll be my secretary. My shadow. You’ll fetch my coffee and file the receipts for the men I bury. And every night, you’ll sit across from me at dinner, wearing the dresses I choose, eating the food I allow… and wondering when I’ll finally snap.” — Kirill Yevgenyevich Ivanov

Cire Lishe married into the behemoth head of Vari Family. Sabi-sabi na ang taong mapapangasawa niya ay isang paranoid, neuoropatic at pervert na hindi makatayo habang buhay sa kanyang wheelchair. Ngunit sa harap ng bilyun-bilyon mga salapi, she gritted her teeth turning a blind eye from everyone's ridicule. She is ready to marry the disabled man thinking of future life doing nothing but eat and sleep. But after two years of marriage the next morning she wakes up from a strange dream. Isang panaginip tungkol sa kanya na pinalitan ng ibang soul, isang multo mula sa ibang mundo ay ninakaw ang kanyang katawan, pagkakakilanlan, at kayamanan. Ayon sa panaginip ay nabubuhay sila sa isang nobela na mary sue, may group petting mula sa mga bigwigs, at ang kanyang katawan ang sisidlan ng babaeng bida sa mundong ito. Yakap-yakap ang mahigpit niyang katawan, nakaramdam siya ng krisis sa kanyang buhay na mas nakakatakot pa sa pagpapakasal sa isang paranoid husband, dahil malapit na siyang ilabas sa sariling katawan ngayong gabi. Cire Lishe: Ghost wants to rob my body, help online! Pagkatapos kumonsulta sa isang magaling na shaman sa internet ay pinayuhan siya ng tatlong bagay. Una, dapat niyang hiwalayan ang pangunahing lalaki! Pangalawa, dapat siya ay kasuklaman ng maraming tao! Pangatlo, kailangan niyang subukang patayin ang sarili! Lahat ng mga bagay na ito ay dapat sundin nang naaayon. Matapos halos gawin ang lahat para maiwasang may magnakaw sa kanyang katawan, may nararamdaman siyang mali, is why the male lead's legs are working, and it is very good at overworking every night. Her waist hurt every morning... This is not a life of only eating and sleeping, and she was scam!

I was reborn back to 1975, when the child in my womb was three months old. I did not tell anyone and quietly had an abortion. However, I still wrapped cotton around my belly every day, pretending the baby was still there. In my past life, my husband Declan Huxley's childhood sweetheart Jane Patton and I gave birth on the same day. She had a healthy, ordinary baby boy. But my child looked nothing like us—he was mixed-race, with features of the Valorian people. Declan and I were both locals, so there was no way our son could look like this. Enraged, Declan scolded me in front of everyone, accusing me of cheating on him and having a disgraceful affair with a Valorian. No matter how many times I explained, no one believed me, and I became the shameful woman everyone pointed at. Worse still, Declan reported me and handed in some foreign letters he found at home, which led to me being taken by federal agents and sentenced as a spy. I spent ten years in prison, and when I finally walked out, I was nothing but skin and bones. Meanwhile, Declan had climbed the ranks for his so-called loyalty to the country. He held Jane's hand and brought along my real son, Seth Huxley, then threw 500 dollars at me like it was charity. He said, "Back then, Jane was accidentally deceived by someone else and gave birth to that brat. Unlike you, she has a gentle nature and couldn't endure hardship, so I had no choice but to switch your children. "This money is payment for your ten years and your reputation. You have a criminal record, and I already filed for divorce long ago to be with Jane. Seth also thinks you're not worthy of me, so you better take care of yourself." Seth also looked at me with disgust. "Mommy Jane treats me very well, and she's not like you; she's never been to prison. I don't want a mother like you!" When I learned the truth, the fury was so overwhelming that I had a stroke and died in despair. In this new life, I want to see how they plan to scheme against me when the child is already gone.

I was in a car accident while saving my brothers. However, instead of gratitude, they urged the doctors to amputate my legs. "Carol, we're sorry," they said through tears. "We're useless… but don't worry. Even if we have to sell our blood or our kidneys, we'll make sure you're taken care of." Right after surgery, they abandoned me in a shabby apartment. Blood seeped through the sheets as they looked at me with teary eyes—then left in a hurry, claiming they needed to earn money for my treatment. I did not want to drag them down anymore. Enduring the pain, I crawled to the rooftop of a tall building, planning to end my life. That's when I saw it—inside a luxury hotel, a grand celebration was taking place. My brothers were there doting on another girl. She was eating an extravagant cake I had never even dreamed of, wearing a designer princess gown worth a fortune, sparkling with jewels. Everyone called her the Smith family's one and only princess. They had even hired a world-class symphony orchestra to play Happy Birthday just for her. While I lay bleeding in a dingy apartment, they would not spend a few dollars on bandages for me. I watched as my eldest brother gently fed her cake, his eyes full of tenderness. "Jasmine, only you deserve to be our one and only little sister." The second brother placed a tiara on her head with care. "Even for the smallest birthday, we won't let you suffer a single moment of disappointment." The third knelt to help her into a pair of crystal shoes. "Jasmine, you're our most precious darling." Then, standing on the stage, Jasmine held up the black credit card they had gifted her and smiled sweetly. "Brothers," she said, "Carol lost her legs saving you. Maybe you should go see how she's doing?" My eldest brother let out a mocking laugh. "She's not worth it. Now that she's crippled, she'll never be able to compete with you again. She got what she deserved."

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.