Lorcana 1st Edition Booster Box

Ever since my mom gave birth to her second child, everything in the household is tied to drawing lots. Everyone has to draw lots in order to decide whose favorite food will be served for each meal. We have to draw lots to see who among us gets a hug from our parents. Every time, I end up drawing the short end of the stick, so everyone automatically assumes that my younger sister, Anabelle Madden, gets the better lot. She easily reaps my parents' love without having to do anything at all. Whenever I feel like crying because of the injustice, Mom will scold me instantly. "I bought the lottery box because I was worried that you might feel upset about this. I'm doing this just to be fair to both of you. "If you want something, you have to be the one deciding who gets what. Your father and I won't interfere with your decision at all. Since you can't draw the better lot, that just means you have bad luck." Hence, I keep practicing my lot-drawing skills every day, hoping that I can eventually draw the better lot in order to obtain my parents' love. But for ten years, I never get to draw the better lot. Not even once. On my birthday, Anabelle wants to go to the amusement park, so Mom tells us to draw lots once again. I secretly glue two short lots together before giving it to Mom in an attempt to get her to stay with me. Instead, she slaps me and berates me for being a disobedient child who cheats in lot-drawing. Then, she leaves the house with Anabelle. When I fall to the floor, I feel the short sticks piercing through my neck.

My wife, Alisha West, has always been obsessively frugal. After marrying her, my single guilty pleasure became blowing money on luxury watches—almost like revenge for how absurdly tightfisted she was. By the time our daughter, Elyse Day, turned 7, she had inherited every bit of her mother’s penny-pinching nature. The two of them looked completely out of place in our sprawling mansion. And I loved it. I’d slip into my latest custom-tailored suits and watch them wince at my credit card statements, their expressions twisted in quiet pain. Until one day, lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This spendthrift idiot is still shopping? Doesn’t he know his wife’s company is about to go bankrupt?] [She’s been drained dry supporting this parasite. Her T-shirt collar is practically worn out from washing. Good thing the financially savvy male lead is about to show up and save her.] [Can’t wait for Alisha to file for divorce and kick this useless freeloader out. Let’s see how he survives fighting stray dogs for scraps under a bridge.] I slammed the limited-edition Richard Mille watch onto the table. Alisha, who was crouched on the floor breaking down delivery boxes for recycling, and Elyse, who was helping stomp them flat, both jumped in shock. A chill ran through me. I lunged forward, snatched the battered cardboard box from Elyse’s hands, and held it tightly against my chest. "No… no more buying. I’m returning this watch. "And these boxes… don’t sell them. I think we might need them someday… to lay out under a bridge when we’re sleeping outside…"

With every, second I felt my body get hot, surprisingly hot. My fingers urged for something, something odd. "Let's see if you crave me as badly as I crave you" With that said he smashed his lips on mine... "For as long as you're heart beats" he paused. From my lips, he traveled to my neck and started smooching it. "It beats for me, you're mine" he resumed kissing me. From the way he was doing it, I suspect that he intended on living a hickey. "Say it, say you're mine" he whispered. A heartless, cruel, dangerous alpha. Who was I to flout him? I knew I was his. His to own. With that, he snaked his hand down into my pants. A lone wolf searching for something, something she's yearned for since she was born. And he had everything she's ever wished for, and she had all he's ever craved. Angelique Lovett Foster is a lone wolf abandoned by her parents leaving her in a box with nothing but a unique five-colored diamond bracelet with her. She lived a peaceful life until her foster dad started abusing her, and decided to elope. Bane Ashton Bancroft a ruthless and unruly alpha of the Blood Oath pack. Loathes rogues to the core. And there's only one thing he cares about in life, himself. He lives around hundreds of people but he's a mystery they're yet to solve. But in just a day he meets someone who solves the mysterious Their paths cross, and they only have one emotion for each other, Hatred. Which later on turned into love, a love they weren't ready to accept. Or rather it was a forbidden love. And everything takes a 180-degree turn and messes up everything for them when it turns out they're both mates.

Roseline's stomach turned and her fist clenched tightly around the handle of the big travel box beside her. She heard the clanging sound of the metallic head of Thompson's belt meeting the ground. Next, quite footsteps. Then, Thompson appeared in her view, like a ghost she didn't believe existed. He was completely bare, with his hairy chest rising and falling slowly, his cock shooting out in front like a gun ready to be fired, his balls bloated from desire, swinging from side to side as he walked closer to bed. Roseline's feet stuck to the ground and her eyes refused to blink as they looked on. "That's it, my boy. Hmm! I like what I see", the red hair gasped, rolling her eyes longingly at Thompson. As Thompson climbed unto the bed, his eyes totally locked in hers, she drew her breasts closer him, then, proceeded to rock the big pumpkins against the flushed skin of his face. "You like them?", she asked, moaning lightly. Thompson paused. Then, in a defiant move of uncontrollable desire, dug his chin into her breasts, burying his entire face in them. "Ouch", she gasped, then broke into a weak laugh, pushing his head more into her chest. "The damn bra", she spoke again, twisting uncomfortably as she threw her hands behind her to unhook the material. But Thompson caught her hands. Without words, his head still hidden in her cleavage, he slowly returned her hands to his head. Obliging to his silent command, she cackled loudly, pressing her chest even more into his face and then, with her tongue, glided across his neck and ears hungrily. Roseline froze. She wanted to scream but in that moment, she forgot how to.

I collapsed at work and rushed to the hospital. When I saw the pregnancy test results, my heart filled with joy. Finally, something to save our loveless marriage. But my billionaire husband Ethan didn't ask if I was okay. He yelled at me for missing work. I noticed a Tiffany box in his car and my hope returned. Maybe he does care. Maybe he bought me something special. That night, his stepsister Mara came home after years abroad. She walked into our dining room wearing the necklace from that box. The one I thought was mine. She smiled at me while touching the diamonds around her neck. Then she took my seat in his car. My project at work. My place at the dinner table. Even my bedroom felt like hers. When the elevator crashed and we both screamed for help, Ethan came running. He pulled her out first. He held her like she was his whole world. He left me bleeding on the floor, begging him to save our baby. I heard them talking through the hospital wall. Mara asked if he loved me. The silence that followed broke something inside me I can never fix. His grandfather kept them apart because they're stepsiblings. Now he's dead. Now she's back. And I'm just the wife standing in her way. I'm pregnant with his child, but I'm starting to realize the truth. I was never his first choice. I was never even his second. I was just someone to fill the space until she came home. The question is, will I stay and watch him choose her over and over again? Or will I finally choose myself?

Before the contract was even signed, the client's representative casually said he was craving pancakes with maple syrup. I didn't hesitate. I texted my fiancé, Nigel Cross, and asked him to stand in line and grab some. He came back with the box, all proud of himself. The client took one bite, and within seconds, his face went red. Hives bloomed across his neck. He shot to his feet, furious, and called the whole deal off on the spot. Then he turned around and handed the million-dollar order to Olivia Field, the intern who had rushed to grab him allergy meds. Three months of grinding work were gone just like that. I stood there, my throat tight, trying not to fall apart. Nigel squeezed my shoulder, his voice soft as he said, "It was just bad luck. Don't beat yourself up." I nodded weakly, drained of energy. But the second I stepped away, I heard him laughing in the break room with his friend. "That guy's seriously allergic to mango. Good thing I added mango syrup to the pancakes. Olivia's about to score a huge year-end bonus. Enough for a down payment on her new apartment." His friend hesitated. "Melissa hasn't slept in a month over that deal. She was working while she was sick. She needed that money for her mom's surgery—" Nigel waved him off, already annoyed. "She has me. Isn't that enough? Olivia earned this." My hands curled into fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. Bad luck? Yeah, right. Nigel had planned every second of it. And now, he thought he could smooth it over by marrying me someday, toss me a few cheap words, and I would just swallow it. I was done with that disgusting man.

I'm Dominik, the dark side of an Archangel. I have no good in me. I have never loved a soul. Yet, here I am, falling for a Human girl with bright blue eyes. How? I want to get the fuck out of here. Ever since I was imprisoned here, my brother has been a thorn in my spine. I have continually schemed ways to escape. Not that I don't appreciate Hilda and everything she has done, my freedom has always been my priority. Tell me why I am so enamored with this little Human? The way she laughs. The way she admires me when she thinks I'm not looking. The pink flooding her cheeks. The problem is, The Keepers are looking for their amulet, and Master Rowen is looking for his pet… I didn't know which one was worse. I knew what I had to do to get us out, and It was going to hurt me more than it would hurt her. I even contemplated not doing it and just staying here, with her… But the Keepers couldn't be so kind as to leave her be. My plan was here, the time to execute was now, and I forced her to take us back with her. I didn't save her when she arrived, just to allow my fucking feelings to get in the way. Guilt flooded my chest when I manipulated her. It flooded my chest again when my brother shoved a flaming hot Angel blade right through her… What did I do? Oh, yea… I left her there to bleed out… And now that I've ruined any chance I ever could have had with the little Human… I'm going to open Pandora's Box and unleash hell onto this world. If I have to hurt, so does everyone else.

Prologue Nathan sat on the roof with a portrait in his hand. He has been looking at her portrait for the past hours and he is not ready to let go of it. He stared at the picture with a satisfied smile on his face. His Sadie! He just can't stop staring at her. She was really his sweet angel which portray the meaning of her name. Sadie! He hugged the portrait before dropping it. He picked up his drawing paper and pencil ready to sketch her beautiful face again. Every corner of his room has her picture, everything! And almost all his belongings too. His plates were designed with her picture, his phone pouch was her, his wrist band has her name. His private company is in her name, his box has her picture, his closet, just name it. The workers thought he's running mad, no one believed it's love except his family and of course, his personal guard. He smiled at nothing closing his eyes before starting the sketching. He's been stalking her ever since that faithful day they met , that faithful day she became his sweet angel. He knows her every moves, everything she does and how she's being treated in her own home . He turned his hand in a fist and his jaw tightened. The thougt of that does nothing but angers him. He wants to save her, he wants to take her out of that bondage but it's not yet time. She doesn't even recognize him, it will be insane to go ask her out for marriage when she doesn't know him . He's going to make them pay, watching his Sadie from a far distance seeing her in tears, seeing her lonely, seeing her sad and seeing her feeling unloved hurt his heart so much

My name is Christian Thompson, and once upon a time, I was the best striker in European football. That was until he came along—Ashford Ryder, young and carefree, 10 years my junior and the new shining star. I hate him. At least that's what I tell myself. Not just because he's taken my spot, but because he's everything I've struggled all my life to be, and not to be. He's vibrant, he's happy, and the worst of all, he's openly gay. I'm not homophobic, quite the opposite—I've lived in the closet all my life. All my life, I've had to hide who I am to please the people around me. European football hasn't always been this accepting of gay men, and I'd squeezed myself into a box to fit in with what they wanted of me. It isn’t that hard when you think about my family who'd rather disown me than have an openly gay son. So imagine how I feel when the world decides to be more accommodating to people like Ashford Ryder when they shoved me in a box. It's not so easy to hate the happy-go-lucky striker, when he does everything to get close to me, despite my insistent hatred for him. He's like a thorn in my side—a hot, sexy, blonde, 5ft9 thorn I can't stop thinking about. But when one day I lose my cool around the popular striker and land myself in bad press, I end up needing his help. It's supposed to be easy. Spend some time with Ashford Ryder, and show our fans that we can work together—it's what I need to do to save my career. But no one tells you how hard it is to hate someone you spend every waking hour dreaming about.

My name is Violet. I was the consigliere to the Leon mafia family in New York, and I wrote the rules of this city’s underworld myself. Yet, the man I had kept by my side for ten years, Drake Leon, was now trampling all over them. Ten years was more than enough time for a stray dog to grow into a wolf that can stand on its own. A decade ago, he was hacked to pieces by enemies on the streets of Brooklyn. Covered in blood, he crawled to me like a dying dog. I took him in. I put a gun in his hand. I taught him the rules of the mafia. Step by step, using my position as the Leon mafia family’s consigliere, I groomed him to become the boss of the Manhattan port district. Ten years later, he controlled the most valuable port under the Leon family for me, and for another woman, he framed her in standing grace. When that girl named Lina showed up pregnant, wearing the blue diamond necklace my mother left me, and sat in the seat that was supposed to be mine, I didn’t lose my temper. Instead, I had someone take the pathology report from the hospital, along with the child, seal them in a gift box, and deliver them to Drake’s new estate. Half an hour later, the study door was kicked open. He stormed in, drenched in night rain, carrying the scent of gunpowder. The barrel of his gun pressed straight against my forehead. “Violet.” He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot. “You touch her child, and I’ll make sure you’re buried with her.” I stayed seated by the fireplace. I didn’t move. I simply pushed a document to the center of the table. “Don’t rush into madness.” I looked up at him and continued, “As of fifteen minutes ago, I’ve frozen three warehouses under your name, two shipping routes, and seven offshore accounts.” Only then did his expression finally change. I smiled faintly, my voice soft. “Drake, you seem to have forgotten something. The reason for your accomplishments today isn’t because you know how to pull a trigger. It’s because I allowed you to live.”