Example Of Oxymoron In A Sentence Novels & Stories

The freshman welcome party was loud—music blasting, people screaming over it. Then the external pacemaker on my chest started shrieking. 10 percent battery. Cold sweat hit fast. I always carried a backup. Always. I yanked open my backpack. No heavy medical battery pack. Just a flimsy power bank. One blinking bar.

At dinner, Tiffany White grabs my fiance's phone and spends 100 thousand dollars on a designer bag. She even sticks her tongue at me. "Come on, Meredith. You're loaded. You won't mind such a small amount, right? Shawn and I share everything. His money is my money," she says. Everyone at the table waits for me to lose my temper or smile and let it slide like a saint. Instead, I calmly take out a voice recorder and my laptop from my bag and adjust my gold-rimmed glasses. "100 thousand meets the threshold for criminal filing. Since you said you two share everything, I have to ask—is this embezzlement or an illegal transfer tied to an improper personal relationship? "Oh, and what you just said about 'his money is my money'? I recorded that. According to the supplemental clauses in our prenup and the company bylaws, I'm officially initiating an asset-freezing order against Shawn Harrison." I turn to Tiffany. "Enjoy your free meals in prison, Ms. White." Shawn is livid. "It was just a joke, Meredith. Is it really necessary to ruin me over this?" I hit the "enter" key. "Sorry. In my book, there are no jokes—only bad debt."

After my older sister, Beatrice Hartwell, has passed away, my brother-in-law, Theodore Wesley, transfers me into his department. At first, I think he's merely watching out for me. But whenever Theodore bumps into someone else, he often leaves his sentences hanging. "After my wife has passed away, it's all thanks to Megan keeping me company all the time that I…" His words are often half-minced and filled with euphemisms. Because of him, the company is filled with rumors of me killing Beatrice just to take over her position at one point. I plead to Theodore to make things clear for everyone in the future. But during a Monday meeting, Theodore continues to mourn Beatrice longingly while bringing me up in a roundabout way. "The reason why Megan is late is that she spent the night in my house last night… Ah, I shouldn't have brought this up. Please don't overthink this, everyone." The thing is, Theodore is the one who wants me to edit the business proposal at his place. My boyfriend is with us the whole time! My colleagues all shoot me knowing glances immediately. They start muttering about "seeing the sister-in-law plot being manifested in real life". I try to explain myself, and yet Theodore keeps mucking things up for me. "Right! She was just editing the proposal in my bedroom—wait, no! It took place in the study! It's my fault for not knowing how to talk properly! The more I explain, the more chaotic things become!" I'm enraged, to say the least. Theodore doesn't know how to speak, right? Then he's better off silent for the rest of his life!

"Vera, you are accused of conspiring with the Petrov Group to assassinate the family's future Donna, Sylvia. This tribunal is now in session." In the center of the tribunal, a syringe filled with a dark green liquid glinted under the lights. My former fiancé, Rocco, the new Don of the Corleone family, sat on the dais, disgust plain on his face. "Confess. Let everyone see the monster you are behind that mask." Sylvia leaned against his chest, a faint smile on her lips. She thought I would finally break, my reputation in ruins. Shackled to the accused's chair, a smile of faint relief touched my lips. "Rocco, are you sure you want to do this?" "Use that needle, and there's no going back."

I was the real son, finally found and brought back by my billionaire parents, only to be diagnosed with leukemia right after. The only person who matched my bone marrow was the adopted son, Doug Daniel. So my parents rushed to bring him back into the family, making him my donor. To make it up to him, they did everything they could for him. My parents handed over the inheritance. My fiancée, Moira Stevens, hovered around him every day. When the pain got so bad that I could barely stand it, my parents pointed at me and snapped, "Jay! You keep bringing up your illness. Are you really that eager to take away Doug's health?" Moira, a medical school professor, didn't hold back either. "I'm a doctor. You think I don't understand your condition? You act like you're dying every single day. You just can't stand that we're being nice to Doug." On the day of the transplant, I lay on the operating table and waited. But Moira, the one in charge of harvesting Doug's marrow, never came in. I closed my eyes and waited for death. None of them knew I had already signed up to donate my body.

Isabella is an example of the word special. In a whole generation of wolves behind her, no one has ever seen, heard or recorded of a wolf becoming the mate of a god. No in the wolf kingdom, no kingdom at all. The thing is that gods don't have mates but Isabella is made for him. He is bonded to her and she to him. This is the story of a princess and a god.

For the sake of my happiness with my boyfriend, I decided to go to the hospital to treat my congenital narrowness. But the attending physician turned out to be my boyfriend's friend—and the treatment plan itself made my face flush and my heart race. "During the course of treatment, there will be a great deal of intimate physical contact. That's unavoidable," he said. "For example, kissing, touching, and…"

Sometimes there are times when your own salvation is not at all happy. For example, you managed to break away from assassins, but at the same time crossed the border of the cursed forest. Or killed the werewolf that bit you, and the first full moon, when you have to turn into a monster, is expected in only seven days. Or… when the one who agreed to help you seems more and more not a person. But maybe the latter is just not so bad after all?

Groupie: a person, especially a young woman, who regularly follows a celebrity in the hope of meeting or getting to know them.See example Tiffany Wendel: Whore. Slut. Cleat Chaser. I’m used to the names so they don’t bother me. So what if I like to have dirty sex? My body is no one’s business but mine.Why is Rowen Flanigan making me re-think how I live my life? He’s only a rookie.rookie: a member of an athletic team in his first full season in that sport.See example Rowen Flanigan:Player. Son of a legend. Rookie.Sure, I’d heard the stories of the groupies. I’ve just been more sheltered than my teammates. I didn’t expect her to be smart. Witty. Kind. She brings me to my knees in every way.So how did I end up falling for a groupie? And how is this going to work when everyone at my job has had a piece of the one thing I haven’t?Contains explicit content and is recommended for readers ages 18+.Groupie is created by M.E. Carter, an eGlobal CreativePublishing Signed Author.

All Faith Cole ever wanted was a good job, a good house, a loving husband and children of her own. But when her father-like boss, Josh Hamilton is suddenly ill, he calls for his estranged son. Enter Alexander Hamilton. Perfect example of sexy, manipulation and strategy. He comes to see his father for whom he holds a grudge. But Josh has a condition. Alexander needs to get married in order to own the family company. And for this time, Faith might be the perfect option.