Novelas y relatos de Female Spirits

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband, Damian Pyke, once again left me for his first love. He said, "Taking care of a child alone isn't easy for Waverly. You're both women—can't you show her some understanding?" Not only was I willing to understand Waverly Benson, but I was also ready to step aside entirely so they could raise her child together. So, I packed my bags and applied for an overseas architecture program through my workplace. However, he eventually regretted it, crying and begging me not to go.

My husband was tall and handsome, but he had no money to pay his debts. During the five years of our marriage, I sold my house and car for him. We then moved to a dark and humid basement that was only 300 square feet in size. When I got pregnant, I wanted to go for checkups, but he said that there was no need for it, as it was a waste of money. So I gave birth to a baby with a congenital heart condition. In order to get the money for his surgery, I worked three jobs every day. At that time, I noticed that my husband bought a mansion worth 40 million dollars for an influencer, and I finally realized that my husband was no orphan, but the son of the richest man in the country.

Like cats and dogs—that’s how Nick and Jessica’s relationship was. Jessica became Nick’s temporary secretary because his male secretary had to take a leave. Nick was allergic to female secretaries, believing that none of them were trustworthy and that they all had hidden agendas. That’s why he never hired a female secretary. But this time, he had no choice—he couldn’t handle everything on his own without a secretary. And Jessica was the only one available, personally trusted by his best friend, Andrei. Even though he was "allergic," he had to endure it—after all, it was only for three days. But how could he possibly endure it when, in less than a day, she was already making a mess of things? She was only proving his belief that female secretaries were unreliable. And how could Jessica prove that she was a professional and skilled secretary if her temporary boss—grumpy and seemingly carrying the weight of the world—had already judged her without giving her a chance? How long could they put up with each other? And could love possibly bloom when, from the very beginning, they already had the worst impression of one another?

blurb They purchase humans like me- yes, Because they aren’t humans. They are what humans call the fearsome beasts. Male for heavy duty work, female for three reasons. One~ As breeders. Two~ keeping them in a brothel to satisfy their lustful desires. Three~ To serve as maid to the highest bidder. And on rare occasions, some humans that were purchased, male or female are mold into assassins/spies through the most brutal conditioning possible and are only loyal to their masters. The king. Being sold to the beasts by my parents, I don’t know what fate has in store for me. And I’m not eager to find out. Elvanya, that’s my name, the sacrifice the humans prayed for.

(Rewritten version of 'Playboy Rehab' - Wattys 2014 Winner) Leslie King is a publicist nestled in the heart of Los Angeles representing Garrett Harrison, president of Harrison Incorporated - one of the world's leading real estate and brokerage empires. Having had Garrett Harrison as her client for years, she has grown used to the uniformity in her job - not to mention the uniformity in her personal life. However, when Garrett Harrison shares the news of his retirement, Leslie's professional and personal life becomes anything but the harmonious routine she has grown used to. Sebastian Harrison - handsome Hollywood playboy and the youngest son of Garrett Harrison - enters Leslie's life in the most unusual of ways as she is asked to turn the King of Debauchery into a man fit and trusted enough to become the CEO of Harrison Incorporated. Even though Leslie vows to fulfill the expectations of the task handed to her, she soon discovers that Sebastian Harrison's past is darker and more complicated than what she has read and researched about him. Now, Leslie is caught between satisfying the expectations of her job description and helping the mysterious and twisted spirit that Sebastian Harrison possesses. Regardless of what choice she makes, Leslie knows that there is more to Sebastian Harrison than she could have ever prepared herself for.

Everyone in Sparrowville said that Margaret Chapman was the happiest woman in town. Gavin Hartley showered her with gifts—a sapphire ring, an asteroid after her name—treating her like she was the center of his universe. Margaret had always believed it, too. Until the day she accidentally discovered the woman he had been hiding in his villa. For ten years, he had kept her there—his childhood sweetheart. After she lost herself to schizophrenia, she had said, "Margaret is me." And so, for nearly seven years, Gavin had courted Margaret and cherished her, playing out a love story that had never truly been hers. Margaret's heart crumbled to ash after she found out the truth. She left without looking back, moving to a country thousands of miles away. But she never imagined that Gavin would lose himself to rage, his eyes burning red as he nearly tore Sparrowville apart. "Where the hell is Margaret?!"

The day I get engaged, my brother brings home a woman who's my age. He says she's his actual sister and accuses me of stealing her life for the past 20 years. Even my fiancé says she's his rightful wife. I'm kicked out of home. Meanwhile, my brother and fiancé take the true heiress traveling. They even give her the villa they had prepared for me. Half a month later, they suddenly remember it's my birthday. To their dismay, they find that they can't see me anymore—I've joined a secret ten-year project organized by the nation. They're supposed to be happy, but they now regret everything.

When I went to buy a new house, all I found was crumpled newspaper where my savings should've been. I almost called the cops—until I found out Tony Jarrett, my own husband, had blown seven years of my hard-earned cash on a shiny new motorcycle. For Pauline Schmidt. His ex. I asked why. He just shrugged. "She's a single mom. Life's tough. This way, she won't have to walk so much." I wanted to scream, but I swallowed it down. Made him at least get an IOU from her. While I was busy sourcing stuff for the factory, a flood warning hit our town. And Tony? Out buying toy cars with Pauline and her kid. Our son was home alone, trying to stay above water. I was back. Like life hit rewind and dropped me into that exact day. The day he gave her the motorcycle. I saw them—laughing, tight, like their own little picture-perfect family. But I didn't cry this time. Didn't beg. Just turned and walked off.

I was diagnosed with cancer. After much deliberation, I called my husband. He fell silent for a long while. “Most of our mortgage is unpaid, and our children need money for school. You should go for conservative treatment.” I called my mother while weeping. “You’re so troublesome. None of my friends or family have cancer!” I stopped crying and started living for myself. God favored me and let me see reality early in my life. He even gave me a chance to start over.

At my wedding, the giant screen that's supposed to show our photos suddenly switches to the groom's assistant's prenatal exam report. It clearly shows that he is the child's father. The assistant looks flustered and panicked as she rushes to apologize to me. The groom, on the other hand, stays perfectly calm and offers an explanation like it's no big deal. "I took pity on her because she got pregnant out of wedlock, so I went with her to the appointment and left my name. I'm going to be her kid's godfather, too." The day of her exam was also the day I went for my very first prenatal checkup. Everyone thinks I'll break down, but I simply reach up and tear off my veil. Then, I calmly schedule an abortion. "She really is pitiful, being pregnant without a partner by her side. She deserves this wedding more than I do." Then, I raise my champagne glass to congratulate him. "Congratulations to you both. May your shotgun wedding be a happy one, especially since it's happening with a bun in the oven."