Gothic Table Runner

I stretched lazily on the bed, much like a contented kitten, before opening my eyes. Hovering above me was a face that could have been sculpted by the gods—a handsome, well-defined face with sun-kissed golden eyes. My first groggy thought was that Cara had finally brought home a decent, well-groomed man for a change. But…. Why is he in my room? I abruptly shoved him away, ending the spell. "Get off your asshole!" With a scowl on my face, I got up quickly. “Was personal space not mentioned by Clara, huh?” I spoke in an irritated tone. “Clara?” He turned and casually picked up some papers from a nearby table, settling down with an annoying smile. “And who might that be, if I may ask?” He doesn’t even remember her? Asshole “Well, if you must know, Clara—” I started, but my words faltered as something shiny caught my eye. What is..? Then my memories began to flood back. —it’s a damn golden sofa. Shit. Brain Freeze. ~~~ Growing up as the oldest kid on a Chicago farm was no picnic for Mary Johnson. Her folks, good ol' Mr. and Mrs. Becky Johnson, were salt-of-the-earth types, who worked hard on their small farm not far from the gritty backstreets of Chicago. They taught Mary and her siblings the value of hard work, self-value. But as much as Mary loved her family, she dreamed big, but those dreams took a backseat when she needed to step up and help support her family. Then, out of the blue, fate threw her a curveball. A chance in the US came knocking, and Mary didn't hesitate. And then she crossed paths with the Blacks – New York’s high society, dripping with wealth and power, who offered her a deal she couldn’t refuse.

“Can I know why I have been kidnapped, sir ?” She questioned in a low, but daring voice. “First of all, you weren’t kidnapped. You were sold off, so it’s merely a transaction.” He replied to her, standing from his seat to lean on his table. Drey’s sexual tension skyrocketed up in the air, and he almost couldn’t control himself at that moment. In his mind, he was groping her and having another round of hot sex right there on his work table, however, he was determined to make her life miserable for having the audacity to forget him and the amazing night they had just shared. He leaned further, and missed her lips by an inch going straight to her ears to whisper “Welcome to your worst nightmare.” The whisper sent shivers down Marie’s spines and her stomach churned from the proximity between her and the piece of art in front of her, and his strong thick voice resounding in her ears. After a one-night stand with the biggest Mafia boss in the state, unknowing Marie gets sold off to that same Mafia empire, and her once quiet life gets shaken up by a smoking hot man, violence, drugs and a surprise baby.

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

In a whirlwind of passion and consequence, Andy, a struggling pauper finds herself entangled in a one-night stand with a billionaire Drake, leading to an unexpected pregnancy. But there's a chilling twist- a curse on Andy’s lineage makes abortion impossible except the father of the child is ready to die, leaving them both in peril. As Drake's impending wedding with Stephanie looms, he must show between protecting his future and confronting the dark secrets lurking within his soon-to-be wife, Stephanie. An unexpected twist occurs when Drake's mother happens to be Andy’s father's first love and the reason his manhood was destroyed. In a table of love, betrayal and the sinister forces of fate, who will emerge unscathed in the ultimate battle for survival? Will the child be killed? Will the wedding hold? Will Stephanie's dark secrets be revealed before the wedding? Will Andy’s father get revenge? Read on to find out!

When I arrived, I saw my husband sitting at a table with Nalani by his side. Was this supposed to be a meeting? Was he seriously introducing me to his mistress? I sat down quietly, my heart heavy. “Eden,” Liam began, his voice calm. “I hope you know why we’re here.” Nalani cut him off with a sharp tone. “Oh, just tell her already.” She looked straight at me, her words cold and deliberate. “I’m carrying Liam’s child, and we’re getting married as soon as possible.” The words hit me hard, but I refused to show how much it hurt. I glanced at Liam, hoping for some sign of remorse, but he just stared at the table. I stood slowly, clutching my purse. “You win,” I said softly. “I’ll sign the papers.”

Skye Harris, a 24-year-old with nothing to her name except an old Subaru wagon and now a gothic style Victorian home that she bought at a Memphis house auction. She is determined to rebuild her life after wasting 6 years in an abusive relationship. While working on renovations of her new home, she begins to feel another presence. Jesse Martin has been alone in his old family home for some time. Some families have come and gone. Even some businesses as well. However, when a dark-haired beauty enters through the front door of his home, he is surprised to find that she can see and touch him. The two occupants of this old Victorian home begin to form a connection that bridges the space between the world of the living and the spirit world.

"Please teach me to become a better writer!" "Oh?" Joaquin got his glass sipped his whiskey as he looked at me in a condescending manner. "I need something in return," he teased as he put his glass down on the table, making me nod excitingly. "Yes, yes! I would do anything you ask for!" Hearing her feedback, he stood up from his chair then walked towards me, chuckling. "Erm..." I stepped away from him, now bumping my back on the wall behind me. Surprised, I gasped as he did a breathtakingly hot "kabe-don". He then spoke near my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "What if I ask... for a collaboration?" --- Haven Thorne, a young woman who is eager to become a great writer, secretly attended a party that was hosted by a popular and rich top author, Joaquin Greyson. Wanting to learn from the great writer, Haven gathered her courage and visited his home for consecutive days even after the constant rejections. Irritated, Joaquin entertained the persistent woman to stop her. Seeing her determination however, piqued his interest and had agreed to her request—even asking for a collaboration! Will the top author really be willing to teach the newbie, or will he lose his patience? Will she able to meet the demands of her experienced mentor, or will she disappoint him? With that in mind, what will their pen and passion teach them? Love, hate… or something more?

Emma Caldwell's ordinary life as a librarian in Willow Creek is turned upside down when she receives an enigmatic invitation to the reading of a stranger's will at Haverstone Manor. What begins as an inexplicable summons quickly spirals into a labyrinth of secrets, danger, and intrigue. As Emma delves deeper into the manor's mysteries, she discovers she's not the only one with a stake in its secrets. Fellow guests, each with shadowy motives, vie for a piece of the late Lord Haverstone's enigmatic legacy. Amid ancient symbols, cryptic maps, and peculiar artifacts, Emma uncovers the existence of a machine designed to manipulate time itself. Guided by clues left by the deceased lord, Emma must navigate a gothic maze of shifting alliances, hidden chambers, and eerie warnings. Her companions, including a sardonic teenager and a glamorous but cunning relative of Haverstone, are as unpredictable as the dangers lurking in the shadows. When betrayals come to light and an old foe reveals their true intentions, Emma finds herself the reluctant guardian of a power that could reshape existence—or destroy it. As the stakes rise, she must unravel the truth about Haverstone’s experiments and decide whom she can trust, all while racing to prevent the manor’s secrets from falling into the wrong hands. Blending gothic suspense, unexpected humor, and thrilling twists, "Haverstone's Legacy" is a gripping tale of mystery and courage, where every choice could mean the difference between salvation and catastrophe.

Les Noces Rouges Anna s’éveille en sursaut, le souffle court. La lumière du réverbère filtre à travers les rideaux, baignant la chambre d’un éclat blafard. L’odeur du fer emplit l’air. Un frisson la traverse. Ce n’est pas une sueur nocturne ni un mauvais rêve. C’est bien réel. Sous les draps froissés, une chaleur moite l’englue. Elle se redresse lentement, sent un liquide visqueux coller à sa peau. Son cœur cogne contre ses côtes lorsqu’elle baisse les yeux. Un corps est là. Allongé à ses côtés. Le hurlement meurt dans sa gorge. Le drap, autrefois blanc, est maculé d’écarlate. Une large entaille court le long de la gorge de l’homme étendu à ses côtés. Ses yeux vitreux la fixent. Anna tremble. Elle cherche l’air, cherche à comprendre. Mais le vide. Son esprit refuse de reconstituer les dernières heures. Le bruit du verre brisé. Une voix chuchotée. Des doigts sur sa peau. Puis... rien. Ses mains, trempées de sang, se crispent sur le matelas. L’odeur du whisky flotte encore dans l’air. Son regard dérive vers la table de chevet. Un couteau de cuisine repose là, luisant sous la lueur pâle. C’est elle. Elle a fait ça. Mais pourquoi ? Elle chancelle en sortant du lit, glisse dans une flaque rouge, son reflet déformé dans le carrelage luisant. Un rire nerveux secoue sa poitrine. Un rire hystérique. Lui, c’était son amant. Son dernier amour. Un bruit la fait sursauter. Une vibration sourde. Son téléphone. Un message. "Tu as bien joué ta part, mon amour. Nous sommes liés par le sang à présent. Ne crains rien, je veille sur toi." Anna fronce les sourcils. Ses doigts tremblants tapotent l’écran. Qui ? Comment ?

My family was attacked by rogue wolves when we entered their territory. My wolf was gravely injured, and in the end, I was the one who saved everyone.
As I collapsed, exhausted, no one came to me—they all ran to my adopted sister, Fiona, fussing over a few shallow scratches.
By the time pack members carried me to the infirmary, the healer delivered the cruel news: my wolf had been struck by a silver dagger, and the one-month-old pup in my womb wouldn’t survive.
Yet my mate, Luke, had given the only life-saving treatment to Fiona. With no other choice, I refused the healer’s remedies and numbed my wolf’s pain with crude herbs—knowing it would only buy us three days before death.
In those last days, I let everything go. I gave Fiona all my possessions and insurance money while my parents smiled in approval. I signed the bond-severing agreement Luke slid across the table without a second thought. Luke was satisfied, believing I was considerate. Kane, my brother, nodded his head when I told him to give my room to Fiona.
Even my son, Jim, squealed with joy when I asked him to call her “mom.” No one questioned why I gave all my belongings to Fiona, and their approving gazes said it all: “Good. The old Emma is back. But as the clock ticked down, one thought haunted me:
When they find our bodies—my wolf and my unborn pup—will that satisfaction turn to regret?