How Quickly Do Men Fall In Love

During the holiday, a hashtag related to honeymoon trips goes viral on social media. The topic is, "How are you planning to spend your honeymoon?" One of the threads that has the most replies reads, "I have to bring my mistress along, of course." "Wow! That's crazy. Can you teach us how to pull that off?" I frown as I scroll down the thread and find the reply. "There are a lot of poor, female backpackers these days. As long as the mistress acts pitiful enough, you can pull the wool over your wife's eyes. And just like that, a couple's haven will become a world of three. "My wife and I will be going on our honeymoon trip tomorrow. I'll give everyone live updates in this thread." Feeling disgusted, I close the thread. … The next day, my husband, Sean Clifford, and I meet a poor, female backpacker on the road. She has no car, money, or any suitcases with her. Sprawling herself across the windshield, she begs, "Can you give me a ride, sir? I have blisters all over my feet. I can't walk anymore."

The proposal Aurora had dreamed of? A total sham. Just a stunt by her boyfriend, Marco, to make his first love, Sofia, jealous. The second she said, "I do," Sofia stormed in, tears and all, wailing that she'd changed her mind—that she couldn't let him marry someone else. And just like that, they were in each other's arms, celebrating their grand reunion. Meanwhile, Aurora stood there, the punchline to a cruel joke.

I was only ten years old when Timoteo Panno found me on the streets of Sirithi. He's the Don of the Panno family, the strongest mafia family in the country. He's also the one who taught me how to protect myself. When I turn 18 years old, I become his lover as well as the weapon he's most proud of. Timoteo isn't interested in other women. I'm the only one staying by his side for many years. We've been with each other for four years. Everyone thinks I'll eventually become the Madre of the Panno family. That is, until Nadia Bellucci accidentally kills her fiance and desperately needs a clean identity to wash herself of all suspicions. As she clutches her chest that houses her heart, which is now weakened from the time she has saved Timoteo's life, she whines coquettishly, "Timoteo, I don't want to go to prison…" With a smile on his face, Timoteo doesn't hesitate to push me out as the scapegoat to take the blame for Nadia. "You've always been a pawn who gets abandoned all the time, so you might as well do it one more time."

Don Arturo a.k.a. 'Godfather', the infamous mercenary of all times. Contracted by bosses to eliminate their opponents like chess pieces all over the world. Not until he decided to retire and left a legacy behind to bloom someday when the rightful heir comes to replace him in his throne. However due to corrupted politics, unfairly judgments in the court of law, forgery, and unstoppable horrifying crimes which happened in the society as years passed by, he formed a league in a restricted island and trained children he picked in streets in exchange of becoming a living, killing machine. He taught these children to fight and plan to execute bad people someday.

On my wedding day, my groom's sister, Nadia Lawson, wears an elaborate ball gown and comes on stage to snatch the emcee's microphone. Before all the guests, she arrogantly says to me, "Can't you see the princess is here? Why didn't you curtsy and greet me? You deserve to be punished! Get on your knees and prostrate yourself before me as an apology!" My expression sours at her insolence. I turn around only to see the indulgent expressions on her parents' faces. The groom, Bowen Lawson, says dotingly, "We spoiled Nad silly since she was a child. You are her sister-in-law now. Don't make things hard for her." I am so mad that I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The clown thinks she's a princess, asking me to kneel before her? Ridiculous.

Toda véspera de Natal, o herdeiro da família mafiosa Marco, Adrian Marco, deve seguir a tradição da família: sortear um nome para decidir se pode se casar comigo ou não. Porque eu, Irene Cast, não nasci na máfia. A menos que ele tire o papel com o meu nome, ele não pode me tomar como esposa. Por quatro anos, Adrian sorteou quatro vezes. E nenhuma vez saiu o meu nome. Sempre acreditei que ele brigava com a família por minha causa, que estava disposto a arriscar perder o posto de Don só para me escolher. Toda vez que falhava, ele me abraçava com força e sussurrava: – Tudo bem. Sempre tem o ano que vem. E eu o amava tanto que doía. Doía a ponto de eu aceitar esperar, ano após ano. Este ano, eu disse a mim mesma: Se ele ainda não tirar meu nome… vou trocar o resultado em segredo. Cheguei de mansinho à porta do escritório de Adrian e ouvi seu irmão mais novo perguntar: – Don… todo ano você tira o nome da Irene. Por que finge que não saiu? É porque você ainda não conseguiu deixar a Sera ir? E ele apenas respondeu, com a voz fria: – A Sera precisa de mim para algo urgente. Faça como sempre: troque o nome da Irene por um papel em branco. Ele saiu sem olhar para trás. Em vez de trocar, o irmão jogou o papel em branco no lixo, deixou o papel com meu nome sobre a mesa e saiu apressado atrás de Adrian. Entrei no escritório, peguei o papel em branco do lixo e substituí pelo que tinha meu nome. Observei meu próprio nome cair na lixeira. Adrian… eu não quero mais esperar e casar com você. Vou te conceder a sua escolha.

Eu concordei em me transferir da Academia Central do Lobo com Lucien porque ele disse que estava sofrendo bullying. Aos dezoito anos e ainda não despertado, em uma academia obcecada por pureza de linhagem e dominância, ele se destacava de todas as formas erradas. Então, ele me implorou para partir com ele, para nos mudarmos para uma escola menos exigente, onde a linhagem importasse menos. No dia anterior ao que deveríamos finalizar tudo, eu fui procurá-lo. Do lado de fora da porta. Foi quando eu ouvi. Um de seus companheiros Betas falou arrastado, divertido. — Eu admito, Lucien. Fingir que você estava sendo caçado apenas para fazê-la deixar a Academia Central por você. Outra voz hesitou. — Vocês dois cresceram juntos. Você vai realmente deixá-la ir assim? Lucien respondeu sem pausa, seu tom relaxado, levemente divertido. — Não é nem no exterior. Ela ficará bem. Então, mais frio. — Ela se agarrou a mim desde que éramos crianças. Eu estava ficando cansado disso. Isso é… eficiente. Eu não o confrontei. Eu me virei e fui embora. De volta ao meu quarto, reabri o formulário de transferência. Risquei o nome da academia de lobisomens comum que ele alegou precisar, e escrevi o nome daquela em que meus pais insistiram anos atrás. Todos haviam esquecido de algo. Eu sou a única herdeira da Alcateia Bloodmoon. E Lucien, um filho ilegítimo tolerado pelo Alfa da Silvercrest, nunca tocaria o trono de Alfa sem um vínculo formal comigo. Um dia, ele perceberia que o que descartou não foi apenas a minha devoção.

We all have an inspiration to live. We all have that one person who keeps us from fighting and moving. That someone who keeps our heart beating. That someone who keeps on giving us a blissful morning. But what if one morning while laying in the dark, the person you loved the most is the person you can't remember anymore? Fall Navarez never thought that this day would come. Never did he think of losing the memories of that someone in his head. Later did he realize, he came up with a question: "Who's Grace?" There's a lot of variations in their testimonies. Some have scarlet threads attached. Some had loose strings which means a dead end. Fall Navarez didn't know what story he had to believe. He wanted to believe them all, but every person he asked, died the day after. "Grace is your girlfriend, Fall." "Hell no! Grace is your wife." "That would be gross, but I only know was that Grace is your sister." "Oh my God, you really don't know, do you? Grace is your f*ckin' psychologist!" Why would Fall had a psychologist, assuming that Grace is indeed one? "You're hell-bent, Fall! You're crazy!" "Who's Grace?! Answer now or I'll f*cking kill you!" He smirked. "As you did to your mother?" he held his tongue and spit saliva at Fall. "Hell yeah! YOU KILLED YOUR F*CKING MOTHER!" Maybe there's someone who's deceiving. Maybe someone had asked them to deceive Fall! But wait, where was the lie? To the you-killed-Grace part or the Grace-is-your-mother part? Hmm, did Grace really fall from grace? "Put the gun in your mouth. . . pull the trigger." FALL FROM GRACE by ANONYGLITCH

Slade Norris is a trust fund baby, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t work for a living. In fact he works himself to the bone running a PR firm, security company and … oh yeah, he manages one of the world’s most famous hard rock bands: Feisty. While Slade may have been born with a silver spoon he’s worked extremely hard to prove himself, and make it on his own two feet. As a teenager he met four rough and rowdy boys who were looking to create a band and get famous. Slade knew he was the guy to make it happen and to ensure his buddies didn’t get taken advantage of along the way One big monkey wrench in their plans of world domination in the entertainment world: Slade’s childhood girlfriend and then high school sweetheart Holly Anderson. Holly had been around the guys of Feisty since their inception and was an integral part of helping them write songs and stay on track. Since Holly was a year younger than Slade and the guys, she was stuck at home finishing her senior year when the guys hit it big and left on a world tour. What happened shortly after has haunted them all for their entire adult lives. Can the universe intervene and bring this couple back together for one more chance? Find out in the final installment of my Feisty Series: How To Forgive. This book can be read as a stand alone but it would be best read as the final book in the series as it answers a lot of lingering questions left by the first four books! Thank you for reading.