Hansel And Gretel Short Story

ลูกสาวมาเฟีย มาเจอกับ มาเฟียเจ้าของคลังเหล้า ไวน์ นำเข้าที่ใหญ่ที่สุดในเอเชีย เมื่อสาวชอบดื่ม เจอกับเจ้าของคลังเหล้าความเมามันส์จึงเริ่มต้นขึ้น

“ทำไมถึงมีรอยแผลแบบนี้บ่อยขนาดนี้ครับ อาทิตย์นี้ผมเจอคุณ 3ครั้งแล้ว?” หมอมาร์เวลเอ่ยกับหญิงสาวสวยเปรี้ยวถึงใจที่เธอมาโรงพยาบาลด้วยอาการเป็นแผลเหมือนเกิดอุบัติเหตุ แต่ไม่ได้เยอะอะไร ”คุณหมอจำเป็นต้องรู้เพื่อใช้สั่งยาหรือไงคะ“ ”ดูท่าทางคุณระมัดระวังกับรอยแผลมาก ไม่น่าจะสุ่มส่ามเป็นแผลเองบ่อยหรอกมั้งครับ เพราะถ้าแผลแค่นี้คุณรีบมาหาหมอละก็“ ”......“ ”ผมพูดถูกใจดำหรือไงครับ“ ”งานฉันมันต้องใช้เรือนร่าง เพราะฉะนั้นฉันจำเป็นต้องไม่มีตำหนิ“ ”........“ เมื่อได้ยินหญิงสาวพูดแบบนั้น หมอมาร์เวลถึงกับชะงักนิ่งไป ” ใช้เรือนร่างที่คุณว่า มันใช้แบบไหนกัน“ ” ถ้าคุณหมออยากรู้ ก็ไปที่อะโกโก้คลับตรงซอย 15 นะคะ“

เมื่อความเย็นชามีผลมาจากคนรักที่จากตาย เมื่อเจอรักใหม่ผลลับจากรักแรกก็มาลงที่รักปัจจุบัน เมื่อพ่อเลี้ยงเดี่ยวต้องเปิดใจอีกครั้ง

With mixed feelings, Jillian Moore goes to the casting of the new season of "The Super Model" to investigate the case of a missing girl behind the scenes. Before she knows it, she stumbles into a turbulent whirlpool of glamour, ambition and shady dealings. When, to make matters worse, she falls in love and has to shimmy from one lie to the next, her life seems to come completely apart at the seams ...

The Bloodmoon & Incubi Anthology is a compilation of seven short stories between these two packs. This collection may contain mild spoilers to books within these series. Chosen Mate: The love story of Stephen Walterson of Bloodmoon and Amelia Furlan of Madonie. Warrior's Redemption: The redemption love story of Clement (Austin) Shelton and Suzanne Walterson of Bloodmoon. Love After 40: The second chance love story of Hale Shelton of Bloodmoon and the human Erin Carlisle. The Hybrid's Rogue: The nonbinary love story of River Carlisle of Bloodmoon and Leo Hansley of Silvermane. The Hybrid's Vampire: The LGBTQ+ love story of Sage Carlisle of Bloodmoon and the vampire Auðr. Sicilian Holiday: A D'Amore family Christmas story. The Quiet Giant's Mate: The surprising love story of Ivan Furlan of Madonie and Regina Petridis of Incubi.

My boy friend Caleb Ford's childhood sweetheart, Julia Leclair, is losing her hair from chemotherapy. So, he orders me to cut mine off and make her a wig. "Julia's allergic to synthetic wigs. You've been growing your hair for ten years—it's perfect." I refuse, but his friends tie me down. Someone shaves my head to the scalp, buzzing through my thick, glossy hair until nothing's left but a butchered mess. Julia sits in her wheelchair and laughs, saying I look like a toad. Caleb smiles and nods in agreement. He adds with a chuckle, "It's just some hair. Was that really necessary?" But back when I was bullied for having uneven, choppy short hair for six straight years, it was he who stood in front of me. He had his arms spread wide as he shielded me from harm. Now he's the one wielding the blade. One by one, their little circle chimes in. They tell me not to hold a grudge against someone who's sick. Caleb snaps impatiently, "Stop trying to talk sense into her. She can get lost! Did you see that fit she threw over a few strands of hair? It's not like they won't grow back." I turn around and walk away. I never look back. Later, I hear that Caleb begs for my forgiveness by kneeling his way up 9000 steps until his knees are ruined.

In my previous life, everything I do to care for myself somehow ends up benefiting my new housekeeper instead. I apply expensive skincare, yet dark spots and fine lines spread across my face, whereas the 45-year-old housekeeper's face becomes silkier. I jog every morning, yet my body only grows heavier and bulkier, while hers becomes slender and toned. When my husband notices the stretch marks on my abdomen, his face twists with disgust, and he never touches me again. "I genuinely can't bring myself to touch you. How can you look worse than Mirabelle when you take such good care of yourself?" My housekeeper looks at me with a sinister smile. A chill crawls up my spine, and the strange feeling makes me fire her on the spot. Yet, as soon as she leaves, I start aging at lightning speed, entering menopause 20 years early and developing diabetes and high blood pressure. I see every doctor I can, but after hanging on for a week, I die from a stroke. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day she first reports to work. This time, I push away the royal jelly she sets in front of me with a pleasant smile. "I've been avoiding certain foods lately. You can have it instead."

My son was caught in a car accident. My husband said that without a cornea donor, he would be trapped in darkness forever. Heartbroken, I let him sweet-talk me into signing away my corneas. Blind, I overheard my son gloating, "Dad, the plan worked. Mom fell for it, and Rachel's got her sight back. She won't be miserable anymore." "Yeah, now we're a real family with her," replied my husband. The truth gutted me. They'd played me like a fool to save my husband's old flame. When I confronted them, Rachel Huffman shoved me down a staircase, and I died in agony. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my son's car accident.

I did three years in prison for my wife, Lilian Parson. The day I got out, she handed me an envelope for her company's grand opening. Inside was a single dollar bill. For a second, I thought it was a mistake. Then I saw her colleague, Nathan Ramsey, holding his envelope—his also contained a single dollar. Relieved, I pushed my doubts aside. I smiled, stood by Lilian's side through the entire ceremony, the picture of a proud, supportive husband. That night, scrolling through Instagram, I saw Nathan's latest post. A photo of a check. [Congratulations to Lilian Parson on the grand opening! So generous—100 million as a gift!] The comments section exploded with envy and blessings, congratulating him and "the boss" on finally becoming a couple. Lilian offered no explanation. Instead, she hurried to draw a line between us. "You just got out of prison," she said coolly. "It's not a good look to go public right now. Let's keep our marriage a secret. In front of others, just call me your boss." Then she turned around and liked Nathan's post. I wiped the tears from my eyes, picked up my phone, and dialed the number of her greatest rival. "From now on, I work for you," I said.

The moment my roommate walked in, she used my locker. She claimed to have too many things and nowhere else to put them. I rolled my eyes. Why should I let her get her way? I was not her parent. She was no princess, but she acted like one. I was ready to argue, but she tossed 200,000 dollars at me. “At your service, Your Highness!”