Liquid Death Dead Billionaire Flavor

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

My wife, Christine Leigh, forced me to the brink of death all for her first love, Henry Carson. To give him a liver transplant, she sent me to the surgery table. I told her I had cancer and that the doctors had advised against the surgery. She just looked at me with an undisguised contempt, "Jason Lowe, stop with your petty tricks. Don't forget, you owe our family your life!" I lowered my head and smiled bitterly. I never left the surgery table.

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.

After the death of Mary's dad, her life becomes a mess. Mary couldn't accept that she doesn't see the death reaper will come to fetch her father nor realize it sooner. That is when Mary thought being able to see Grim Reaper and how the people around her die was useless. To ended it all, she decided to commit suicide only to find out that she will be wake up in others' bodies. But when the Grim Reaper named Saint came to her. Not to fetch her soul but to offer her a contract to be a living Grim Reaper, everything change. However, what would she do if along the way she fell in love with the grim reaper? Would she choose to stay alive or to die peacefully?

From bestselling author Emily Goodwin comes the epic start to a sexy and exciting paranormal romance series... Never trust a vampire. I might have learned that lesson the hard way. But when I find myself in a vampire-owned bar, I don’t have much of a choice. With vampires still trying to assimilate into mainstream society, I’ve done Lucas King a favor by stopping one of his patrons from draining a human dry in the basement of his bar. A favor he'd prefer to repay in bed than in kind. Vampires and witches have had more than a jaded history, and when witches start showing up dead in surrounding covens, all signs point to something old and powerful. Something that knows the ways of the witches.Something--or someone--like Lucas. What's worse than trusting a vampire? Falling in love with one.Dead of Night a vampire/witch romance and is book one in the Thorne Hill series.

Grim Marie knows far too much about the wolves of the world, a world where little girls go missing. After all, she had married one before she/he showed his claws, and what that wolf did to her little girl was unforgiveable. Grim Marie isn’t certain if she can ever forgive herself for putting her Little Aleta in harm’s way. When Grandmother becomes ill, Aleta offers to take the bus through the concrete forest to Grandmother’s house to bring her some goodies. She knows the way. What could possibly go wrong? In this modern day retelling of Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf takes to the city streets to capture his prey, but the hunter is close behind him. With Grim Marie on the prowl, the hunter becomes the hunted. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

Alpha Darell doesn't want a mate, and neither does he want to settle down as a family man. “Why have a wife when you can have many girlfriends?” He'd normally say. And unsurprisingly Darell's 27th birthday, which is also his Mate Selection day, becomes the happiest day of his life. Why? The Priest says his ordained mate is dead. But this joyous day soon becomes Darell's worst, when he meets his so-called dead mate—A vampire woman who had just woken up from a deep many years ago.

I hated the heroine. Now I am her. When nineteen-year-old Ashley slips in the bathroom and dies with popcorn in her hair and a love letter unsent, she wakes up inside the worst romance novel she’s ever read as Arianna Salvatore, the pathetic, weepy female lead she couldn’t stand. The catch? Everyone thinks she faked a suicide attempt to win back Damian, her cruel, emotionally unavailable husband. And her sister? She’s gunning for him next. Ashley wants out. But the book has other plans and if she’s going to survive this twisted love triangle, she’ll have to rewrite the story herself. Goodbye, tragic heroine. Hello, chaos.

I jolt awake to splash of ice cold water making contact with my warm skin and ripping me from my dreams. Looking up I see my perpetrator and best friend Bailey giggling, and holding a now half-emptied bucket. “Wake up loser! Last day on the beach and you choose to sleep?” I roll my eyes in annoyance at her bubbly enthusiasm. “Alright I’ll get in for a bit but I’m not going to stay long,” I state with a huff. We each grab a floatie and make our way waist deep before hopping on and linking arms to keep from drifting apart. “Are you excited to be heading back tomorrow? I know I am!” Bailey quipped. Honestly I’d been avoiding that thought the whole trip. Returning to our pack was the last thing I wanted to think about. This week at the beach had been the calm environment I desperately needed after senior year. Returning would mean I would have to finally confront the drama that has become my life the last three months. All through high school I kept my head down, focusing on my team and training. Despite keeping to myself there was always one person stirring sh*t up, my ex, Austin. His father, the Alpha to our pack, gave his life in one of the pack battles last year. Leaving his Luna to raise Austin and his sister on her own. Austin would now be eligible for the Alpha title which worried me. Up until we left he had shown blatant disrespect to my father, Beta to our pack. Not to mention he still had his eyes and ears on me. Returning was the last thing I had on my mind, knowing sh*t is about to hit the fan.

Thya, the daughter of Duke D'Arcy, has the cursed power of being able to see others people's deaths by looking at them in the eye. After all the disgrace that happened to the people around her, she sees her best frien, Avyanna, the next Queen of the Maximillian Kingdom's dying because of a uncurable disease, but she can't tell that to anyone. When her best friend ends up dying a year after that, her brother, Daisuke, ascends to the throne as the new Crown Prince and is set to get his revenge on Thya for hiding his sister's disease from everyone and 'causing' her death. But Thya refuses to interact with anyone for years, blaming herself for having such ability. Later on when the Crown Princess Trials are announced, Daisuke made his parents summon Thya so she is obligated to participate. But afraid that she might end up dying while spending a year in the Imperial Palace, she decides to look at herself in the mirror and confront her fear. To her dismay, she saw her dying by Daisuke's dagger two years from that moment. And that puts her on edge. After all her efforts to runaway go to waste, she has to go and face her best friend's brother and sworn enemy. But little did they know that hatred is the closest feeling to love.