Little Space Clothes Novelas e Histórias

This is a human hotel. Every morning is new. Joy, stress, sadness, moment awareness are unexpected guests... welcome and enjoy everyone. Respect every guest. Dark thoughts, shame and evil smiles invite you to the threshold. Give thanks to all who come, for all have been sent as guides from without.

Once I begged for your love while our son drew his last breath. Now watch me take back everything you hold dear. The first time, I died on a rain-slicked road with my four-year-old's name on my lips and my husband's rejection still burning in my chest. Silas Vance took three years from me. Three years of existing like furniture in his mansion while he draped Clara over his arm at every gala, every interview, every moment that mattered. When our son needed him, really needed him he let my calls go to voicemail. Thirteen times. I counted. Our son didn't make it through the night. Neither did I. Then I opened my eyes. Two years earlier. Divorce papers on the nightstand. My son's laugh echoing from down the hall. This time, I won't beg. Won't wait. Won't shrink myself small enough to fit in the shadows he assigned me. This time, I'll become someone he doesn't recognize. Someone who smiles at his enemies, steals his deals, and dismantles his empire while he's still searching for his meek little wife. When he finally figures it out—when he's pounding on my door, begging for answers, desperate for a second chance? I'll hand him those signed papers and remind him: Some deaths are just the beginning.

On the day of Zephyr’s art exhibition, I saw people stand around a portrait of myself. My cheeks were flushed, and I was bare. My posture was the one we used in bed last week for fun. Zephyr even got the mole on my chest right. As people stared at me mockingly, I demanded, “Why did you do this to me?” He was unbothered. “It’s not as if I asked you to sleep with someone else.” But he did let people see how I looked when I was having an intimate moment with my own boyfriend! “It’s just a painting. Why are you being so petty?” I was stunned by the mockery in Zephyr’s gaze. Then, I called my assistant. “I’m attending the international art festival as the organizer.”

On the day of the wedding, my best friend, Elena Hartman, can't bear to part with me, so she threads my wedding shoes with a string and ties them snugly around her slim waist. The groomsmen turn the whole place upside down, and we end up late for the ceremony. She eventually cracks up and tugs at her billowy bridesmaid dress, revealing the outline of the shoes at her waist. "I dare you to come take them. As long as I'm here, she's not getting married!" My fiancé, Miles Lawson, shakes his head and chuckles. "You just love tormenting us, don't you?" Miles exchanges a look with the groomsmen, and they charge at her at the same time. She squeals as she falls back onto the bed, squirming under her layers of tulle. "Don't be so rough! I'm ticklish…" The groomsmen flush bright red. Miles' ears turn scarlet as he feels around her waist. She giggles even louder. "How are you going to undo it through all these layers? Use your head!" Then, she gasped. "That tickles!" Her theatrics make my temper flare. I spring to my feet, lift her skirt, and rip the wedding shoes right off her. "If you're that ticklish, smack yourself with a slipper. Drop the act, or I'll yank out the nerves that make you ticklish!"

The sky turned red, and meteors fell. Screams and explosions everywhere. For an unknown reason, people started having magic abilities.. Most were happy, but it didn't last long. Soon came the undead. To survive, kill, or be killed. Her mom disappeared. She was betrayed by her ex-fiance' and killed by her step-sister. Now she's back a year before the apocalypse, equip with magical space, this time will it be the same? Warning: mature scenes, gore & violence. Hi readers, I'm an amateur author. Please be lenient with me. This is my first novel, so please allow me to grow. Suggestions will be appreciated. Thanks!!! This story, characters, and places are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people, places, and events is purely coincidental. Would you like to buy me a cup of coffee? https://ko-fi.com/oppo_red pictures source: https://pixabay.com/ https://www.canva.com/

Ivory spent her whole life certain her childhood best friend Caden was her fated mate. When he bonds with someone else, she doesn't shatter — she simply goes hollow. She walks away, builds a quiet life in the human world: a bakery, an apartment, a cat named Fig. Then her brother is falsely accused of a crime threatening inter-pack war, and she's forced home. Crescent Ridge has changed. Her father has stepped down, replaced by Rhett — composed, strategic, and unsettlingly perceptive. He has no mate. And he's noticed her. Just as something real begins to form between them, a delegation arrives from a neighboring pack — carrying the truth about who the Moon Goddess actually chose for Ivory. It's the last person she'd want. And the one person Rhett would call an enemy.

Ten years ago, Eli Voss left Cedarwood Falls without a word — without an explanation, without looking back. Now he's back to restore a crumbling Victorian inn, and the only contractor available is the one person he never stopped thinking about. Noah Callahan spent ten years building walls under his easy smile. He's fine. He's moved on. He just needs to get through six weeks of working side by side with the man who shattered him at eighteen — without letting it happen again. The problem is, Cedarwood Falls is a small town. The inn needs both of them. And the distance Eli keeps trying to maintain keeps shrinking. Some things don't stay buried. Some feelings don't care how many years you put between them. And some men fall harder the second time.

During college, Cindy Crammer brought over two sets of breakfasts every day. One was for me, and the other was for my roommate and best friend, Mark Jefferson. The breakfast she brought me never changed. It was always just sandwiches and oatmeal. Mark's breakfast, on the other hand, always had a perfect balance of meat and vegetables, and she never repeated the same meal twice. Even for my birthday, the gifts she prepared came in two sets. My birthday gift was always four simple greeting cards. Mark got concert tickets, a handmade rhinestone photo mosaic, a custom-made suit, and a pinky ring. When it came time for our graduation trip, the three of us arrived at the train station together. Mark and Cindy scanned their documents and passed through without any trouble, but I was stopped outside. Cindy slapped her forehead in frustration and smiled at me apologetically. "I only remembered to book Mark's ticket. I forgot yours. "We've already made it through. I don't want to waste the money. I'll take you on a trip for two next time." Mark patted his chest and made a promise to me. "Don't worry, Jason. I'll take good care of Cindy for you." I watched their backs as they walked away side by side, laughing and chatting. I let out a bitter chuckle. I didn't want to keep lying to myself anymore. I turned around and bought a ticket home. "Dad, you said I had to get married right after graduation. I agree! "Remember the referral I made for an intern named Cindy? Cancel it!"

Eurie Sanchez is just a simple high school student. Her future is already planned: go to college, find a good job, and reclaim her father's house. But, everything changes when one day a man from another universe, named Kaizer Dragunflare, barged in to her play, sliced arms, and saved her to some possessed kidnappers. Her world swirls and goes back to zero as she learns that she is not the orphan girl she thought she was. She is actually a Zaenoth lost girl, from the clan of Cezanne who can freeze things, her apartment, and even the space and time. In a blink of an eye, she travels through worlds as she tries to unravel the past of her lost self... the past of the little Elliot Cezanne, the last space bender.

I was nineteen the first time Cole Whitfield broke me. Not with cruelty. With a single word. Why. Not did you — why. Like the answer was already settled and he just wanted the story to make sense. I told him the truth anyway. He said nothing that mattered. So I picked up my bag, walked out of his apartment, and decided that a man who trusted a rumor over two years of me wasn’t worth a correction. I spent the next two years becoming someone I actually liked. New city. Graduate program. A published paper with my name on it. I was done with Cole Whitfield in every way a person can be done. Then I walked into Seminar Room 114 and he was sitting right there, gray eyes already on the door, like some part of him knew. I sat down. I opened my notebook. I did not look up. Here’s the thing about studying how people form beliefs: you understand exactly why he believed it. That doesn’t mean you forgive it. That doesn’t mean two years of silence disappear because he’s learned how to look at you like he’s sorry. He wants a conversation. I want my degree. But the campus is small, the seminar table is round, and the boy who broke my heart at nineteen is doing everything right at twenty-one — and I’m starting to understand that composed isn’t the same thing as healed. I hate that I still know the exact sound of his voice.