It's Called A Hustle Sweetheart Romane & Geschichten

Dante says. "Don't call me sweetheart or darling. Those are the names you use for girls that you cannot remember their names to. At least you know my name is Leandra. So if you call me Leandra, or you don't call me at all, Snoekums," I say. " Come on, cupcake. You know, I have a special name for you. You are my honey bun, sweetie pie my cuppy cuppy cupcake," Dante teases me. "The song says honey bunch, sugarplum, pumpy-umpy-upmkin ... that is how the song goes," I say, angerly at Dante. I do not think he is funny anymore as I look at a girl who looks like she wants to put a knife in my heart.

he chuckled " I did no such thing" " really sweetheart" he asked. " is that my new nickname from you?" " what's that?, oh you mean ' sweetheart '. If you want it to be your nickname from me then it's done " " I think I also need a nickname for you. What if I call you ' my handsome jerk'" " I love it but why the 'jerk' though,why not something more like handsome boyfriend or handsome love or any sweet name girls like" he asked in wonder

“And someone get me a cigarette. Now.” My name is Candace Moor, but the world knows me as Candy. I’m twenty-five year old sensational pop star, with my face plastered on billboards across the country. To my millions of fans, I’m the sweet, innocent girl-next-door who writes love songs but that's a beautiful lie that makes me a lot of money.

Cute! “Goodnight sweetheart”

she mumbled under her breath. “Don’t assume things, sweetheart, I’m very hungry.” His deep husky voice combined with the way he let out his last two words made white-hot desire pool at her entrance. She blushed anew to her utter and complete shame as he started to tell her what he wanted for lunch. “Will that be all, mister?” She defiantly tried to sound unaffected, but was in reality not fooling anyone. “No,” he breathed out, “my name is Aiden sweetheart, not mister.”

In a peculiar mix of amusement and annoyance, I braced myself for the impending encounter. Without warning, one of them slung his arm around my shoulder, offering a greeting that sounded more like a proclamation. "Well, well, look who we have here. The new addition to the pack. What's your name, sweetheart?" I shot him a sidelong glance, my tone laced with a healthy dose of sarcasm. "Sweetheart? How quaint. I'm Mellisa Anderson, and I wasn't aware we were auditioning for a 'Thugs of the South' calendar shoot today."

When I opened it, my chest loosened. Id forgotten whose idea it was between the two of them— although in hindsight it was most likely Juliennes— but they'd created a group chat for all three of us. ‘The Hustlers’ it was called. It was a strange, silly name, but it made ne smile, especially now. And it seemed that today it was quite active.

"Prince Caspian!" She shouted his name even thought Prince Caspian is just right beside her. Peach keep on calling his name but this man didn't even move an inch. Her voice become weaker because of their surrounding. She ready herself to shout again for the last time while hoping that this man will hear her for the last time. "We always get the munchies And we go for early brunches That turn into late lunches And we ain't got a label We're just rolling with the punches

“KitKat.” “Okay.” He pushed the cart, keeping his arm around her. “Let’s go find some KitKat for you, sweetheart.” Her heart warmed at the nickname. Sweetheart. She liked it.

So, I deliberately spoke crudely to Britney while thrusting against her round, bouncy butt. "You like that? You like the way I'm screwing you?" Irresistibly, Britney let out a long, sultry moan. Her rear was arched high. Gasps and whimpers slipped out from her throat like a symphony, and her seductive charm practically overflowed from her being. "Don't stop… Oh, I love it…" At that moment, I caught a glimpse of our bedroom door, which had somehow cracked open. A shadow stirred behind it. Was Annie peeping?