Gently Face Cream

When I steal the cheer captain, Cora Knightley's, number one spot in our grade, her childhood sweetheart—an Alpha heir—confesses his love to me the next day. Flashing me a mesmerizing smile, Raymond Knox says, "Join my world and relish the ultimate freedom and recklessness, will you?" Of course, my answer is… yes. I agree, sealing his lips with a passionate kiss. My grades start dropping, until I eventually become one of his kind. At the same time, his body belongs to me. We can't keep our hands off each other. But despite the countless intimate moments we share, he never seems to enjoy kissing me—until the entrance exam for Lycanshire University is finally over. That's when he kisses me and seduces my wolf, luring me to go to Mangy Hollow Community College with him. So this has been his goal all along. But I'd known it since the start. Gently slapping my Lycanshire University admission letter against Raymond's face, I say, "Being with you this year has been fun. I'm very satisfied. "But my future matters more. Let's break up."

It's Family Day at my daughter, Hannah Neel's, preschool, but my wife, Samantha Miller, says she has to work and tells both Hannah and me not to go. Seeing the disappointment on Hannah's face breaks my heart, so I bring her to school anyway. As soon as we step through the gates, I see Samantha. She's holding her childhood friend—Oscar Barnett's—hand, with a little boy clutching her other. The three of them look like a perfect family, laughing and chatting, as if they belong together. When Samantha sees us, her smile fades, and she lets go of Oscar's hand. "Zach, it's not what you think. Oscar's raising his son alone. Today's his fifth birthday, and he just wanted to give him a little taste of a mother's love," she says quickly. I study her for a moment, then kneel and gently take Hannah's hand in mine. "Sweetheart, say hello to the lady."

As I'm unable to get a ticket for my return trip after the Thanksgiving holiday, I specifically booked a first-class seat home. Just as I find my seat, I see an unruly child jumping around on it. I patiently smile and say, "Kid, this is my seat. Where is your seat?" He makes a face at me. "It's mine now, old hag!" I grab him by the collar of his shirt, wanting to lift him out of the seat. At that moment, a woman's piercing voice sounds behind me. "What are you doing? Let go of my son!" I release my grip and say as gently as possible, "Please control your child. This is my seat." Suddenly, she raises her voice. "He's just a child! Can't you, as an adult, give way to him? You're young and dressed decently. How can you have no compassion at all?" I'm so angered by this distorted reasoning that I laugh. "If you're so compassionate, why didn't you spend the money to buy your child a first-class seat?"

On the day of my daughter Eleanor Baldwin's second birthday party, my entire family stood nervously by the banquet hall entrance. They were not there to greet guests, but rather to keep me from showing up and causing a scene. Mom's face was written all over with anxiety. "Lucas wouldn't actually crash the party, would he?" Dad's brow stayed tightly furrowed. "Who knows? That disgrace of a son is capable of anything." My younger brother, Cody Baldwin, had his arm wrapped gently around my wife, Kendra Clarkson, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry. If Lucas dares to show up, I'll keep you and Ellie safe." Kendra nodded slowly. "If it really comes to that... maybe we should just let Ellie be his goddaughter. At least then, we're still family..." However, the party came and went, and I never appeared. I had already made up my mind to join a classified national defense research program. Only this time, it was for good.

I was a top-tier heart surgeon. The kind they gave a government-issued black SUV with diplomatic plates—armored, red-light-skipping, cleared-for-anything kind of ride. I parked it at my fiancé Marco Varonetti's place so he could keep it in shape. Bad call. One day, I got an emergency call: heart transplant for the Chancellor—yeah, that Chancellor, the one with state secrets ticking inside him. I rushed over to Marco's to grab the car. Right as I was about to leave, some rando slid into the back seat like she owned it. "Mall first. I need a mani," she barked. "Then get the ice cream Marco ordered. If it melts, I'll kill you." Excuse me? "This is my car," I said, trying to stay chill. "I've got a critical airport run. You need to get out." She rolled her eyes. "You're just the driver. Open those eyes and check the plate." Then the maid chimed in. "Everyone knows Mr. Varonetti takes Ms. Caro out in this car. Nobody says a word." I froze. Marco used my federally issued SUV... to chauffeur her? This wasn't just messy. This was criminal.

Dad is famous for being a total simp over Mom in the elite society. Naturally, he views Callie Archer, the stepdaughter whom Mom has brought with her, as his own. But Callie is afflicted with a severe case of walking phobia. Her feet couldn't touch the ground at all. Only when she's stepping on my back can she roam around in the house freely. So, whenever Callie looks in a certain direction, Mom will press my head down and force me to crawl toward Callie to serve as her doormat. The doctor issues a warning to my family that my spine is severely contorted. So when Callie wants to admire the flowers in the yard while wearing a pair of spiked shoes again, I can't endure the pain anymore, so I shiver slightly out of instinct. Callie ends up losing her balance and falling to the ground. She bawls like a baby afterward. Mom rushes over immediately before kicking me in the gut, her high heel lodging into my flesh. "It's extremely rare for Callie to be willing to leave the house! Why must you ruin her mood? Can't you just be more understanding and play your role as a doormat for the sake of your sister's illness?" Meanwhile, Dad scoops Callie into his arms, his heart bleeding for her plight. He coaxes her gently, telling her that he'll buy her new dresses later. I can only curl up on the ground while hacking up blood. But Dad just thinks I'm playing the pity card. He commands his men to throw me into the basement. Apparently, I can only be released once I've learned to stay stationary when I'm supporting Callie. As I clutch my broken ribs, I feel my tears flowing down my face as well as the blood from my injuries. I'm sorry, Dad. Next time, I will definitely not move a muscle, just like a corpse.

"I can't do this no more. I'm leaving you, Rupert Peter Myrie," Tasha said, her heart thudding in her chest. He turned, locking his eyes with hers, but she didn't flinch. Rupert snorted softly, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he approached, each breath husky, each movement heavy until he stood just an inch away. "Tee, you must be really angry for you to be calling me by my full name." "Stick to the point," she said, turning her face from his intimidating gaze. "I want to end things with you." Her voice trembled, but she forced the words out. He closed the space between them. "You want to end things with me?" His voice dropped. "Who teaching you this 'strong woman' crap?" He wrapped his arms around her, gently rocking her and pulling her to his chest. "The only way I'll ever let you leave me... is in a body bag." ****** After escaping a toxic relationship and years of being controlled, Tasha Mackenzie finds herself under the protection of Joseph Grind, America's most feared Mafia boss. He’s cold-blooded. Untouchable. And hiding a secret darker than his empire: he's also the Alpha of the Stinging Vipers werewolf pack. As Tasha is pulled into his dangerous world, she learns the man protecting her has a fiancée he claims is just a business deal. But how can she trust a man feared by an entire country, let alone love him? Can Tasha survive the war between her heart and his secrets... or will loving a monster destroy her for good?

This was the sixth time Dante Falcone had slammed that damned divorce agreement down in front of me, forcing me to sign. This time, I did not resist. He set down the pen. In that instant, a suffocating silence filled the room. His deep brown eyes locked onto me, sharp and probing, as if he were trying to see straight through my soul. "Why so obedient this time, Sofia? Or are you planning another trick? Don't forget who you are. Mrs. Falcone." I removed the ruby ring that symbolized the mistress of the family, the one he had placed on my finger when he proposed to me in Sicily. I set it gently on the desk, a surface stained with both blood and money. My voice was calm, lifeless. "No, Dante. I'm just... tired. Your world is too loud."

On the night of my 30th birthday, I waited until the early hours of the morning, but my husband, Theodore Hawk never showed up. Instead, I came across an Instagram post from his childhood sweetheart, Emily Gallagher. [What romantic is not the starry night, it is having you by my side.] In the picture, she was wearing a delicate, sky-blue camisole that revealed just enough to charm and seduce. A man stood close behind her, his hand firmly gripping her waist. The scene was set in the seaside villa that Theodore had gifted her, their figures intimately entwined under the soft glow of the night. Someone had commented beneath the post: [I can’t stand you two being this lovey-dovey all the time! Just get married already!] Emily had responded with a shy-face emoji. I had just liked the post when Theodore, who I had failed to reach all night, blew up my phone with calls. "Are you out of your mind, Camilla? Emi and I grew up together! If we wanted to be together, we would’ve done so long ago! Why are you being so petty?" Looking at how Theodore gently held her in his arms, comforting her, I realized something. Letting go of someone you’ve loved for seven years... can take only a moment.

Marcia was once destined for a life of happiness as a wealthy princess, but in this moment, she was ruthlessly struck by fate. She discovered that her husband, Alan, not only betrayed her but also had an affair with her best friend. While pregnant, she was persecuted, leading to a devastating miscarriage that shattered her spirit. Even more heartbreaking, her father suffered a stroke and passed away due to Alan's embezzlement of company funds. In an instant, Marcia lost her wealth, her child, and the one person who truly loved her... In her despair, Marcia made a decision: revenge! Two years later, she returned as Patricia, becoming the most trusted secretary of the powerful billionaire Elijah Sinclair. She vowed to make those who had wronged her pay, ensuring they would suffer in hell! *** (Sample) Marcia grabbed Calvin's hand tightly, her voice sharp. "I WANT REVENGE! I WANT REVENGE! Calvin, please help me! I can't let him get away with this!" Her eyes were bloodshot, her tone rising to a near scream. Calvin felt her icy grip, devoid of warmth. He gently embraced Marcia, solemnly promising, "Don't worry, I will help you!" Calvin placed a brown paper bag gently in front of her. "Open this. Get close to him; he can help you. But know this: from now on, there will be no more Marcia Roberts. Are you ready for that?" Marcia sat up in bed, carefully tying her long hair back, revealing a gaunt, colorless face. "At this point, do I have any other choice? But, Calvin, are you sure this person can help me?" "He's Elijah Sinclair. If he can't, no one can..."