For The Love Of Socks Backyardigans Novels & Stories

Yet despite my endless compliance, he had always treated me with malice. "That divorce threat is a thousand years old, Debbie," Hunter scoffed. "If you actually manage to leave Laurent, I'll become your damn dog!" He was even more certain than Laurent that I was bluffing. "Try a different species, Hunter," I countered icily. "Don't insult dogs." With that, I cut the line and blocked every member of the Maddox family. My parting insult must have struck a nerve, because Hunter immediately took to our massive shared group chat to blast the news to every wealthy socialite and heir we knew.

She said it and before a blink of an eye the rumor was everywhere. It disgusts me when I see these wannabe queen bees and upcoming content creators take advantage of an ugly situation just to gain views and followers. I got back home very late and made something light for dinner. Dinner was over; I had a cold shower and wrapped myself. My phone buzzed; Zach was calling; “Hi… did you miss me, already?” I teased. “I'm at the door.” He mumbled.

River’s POV The backyard had been transformed. Colorful plastic cones marked a big rectangle on the grass. There was a cooler in the shade, half full of juice boxes and cold soda cans. Someone had brought out a speaker, and music played—happy, bouncy songs that made little kids dance and adults smile. It smelled like sunscreen and barbecue. Laughter floated through the air like sunlight—soft and warm.

Garth DID HIS BEST impression of a tent pole as he watched the wedding party twirl and gyrate around the dance floor while Benji played his bastardized version of the B-52's Love Shack. A few years back Garth had finally given in and tossed some money at Benji to get him to shut up about making their own funny version of the song. He'd written it, got some guys together and recorded a pretty nice version titled Love Barn. It was quickly incorporated into Benji's set for when he played wedding DJ, like tonight.

But fuck if my cock wasn’t hardening in my jeans and my hand threatening to smack that ass. When she finally retrieved the sock and returned to her feet, she glanced over her shoulder to see me standing there with an ‘innocent’ smile. “You’re still here?” She asked sarcastically. I bit my lip hard before replying to her question, “Yup.” Popping the ‘p’ at the end, “So, do you want to go?” Hailie sighed as she started another load of laundry before turning to me, her arms crossed over her chest and her ass leaning against the dryer,

Yeah, I met her today. That didn’t seem right. She took a deep breath and decided to rip the band-aid off. “So, something really weird happened today.” Her mom tilted her head. “Weird how?” Amelia sat down on the couch, gesturing for her mother to do the same. “My group project meeting was at Blake’s house today.” Her mother nodded, sitting beside her. “Blake?” “Blake Andrews". Her mother’s brows furrowed. “Andrews…” she murmured, as if the name sounded vaguely familiar.

"It's the mid-year bar party. Where the boss invites wealthy and influential people to come dine for the night. And guess what?" "What?" "The famous billionaire son, Ethan Stone, would be coming also." This sounded strange because I don't know who Ethan Stone was, so I didn't really care. "Oh, it's going to be a long night." Sarah chuckled, while she continued to twist her body to the rhythm of the music

My thoughts snapped back to the present as loud cheering erupted nearby. "Alpha! Kiss your Luna right now! Sylvia can't wait any longer!" shouted an excited voice from the crowd. Just ahead at the Pack House entrance, Dominic stood surrounded by a boisterous group, clutching Sylvia's hand tightly. He threw his head back and howled: "I, Dominic Blackwood, love only Sylvia Silverstone!" He repeated this declaration three times, each proclamation louder and more confident than the last. His voice carried down the street, drawing curious onlookers from every direction.

I snorted, my voice devoid of warmth as I said, "No need for that, Vincent. You've used up all the love coupons. Let's get a divorce." For a few seconds, there was only silence on the other line. Then, Vincent demanded frantically, "What are you talking about? I've still got 20 or so love coupons, don't I?" I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I slowly said, "Didn't you know? You used the last one when you asked me to jump into the pool."

I walked out of Campbell Group like a lifeless zombie. Memories came crashing back like waves I couldn't hold back. Jenna Sanders had hated me since college. I was poor and apparently too much of an eyesore to share a dorm with someone as wealthy and influential as her. She got a kick out of tormenting me; she had her friends drag me into bathrooms to beat me up, used a 400 degree Fahrenheit curling iron to burn my arms, glued chunks of my hair together with industrial-strength adhesive, and pressed lit cigarettes against my back over and over again just to watch me cry and beg in pain.