Lotr Aragorn Speech Novels & Stories

"You know I can't talk while you're here", he says. His voice is rough, dangerous and hungry. I swallow, my throat dry. But I don't look away. "Why?" I ask, my fingers trace his jaw, trembling. "I'll be good. Promise". A dark laugh rumbles through his chest. "I don't want good", he says, voice rough. "I want you screaming my name… just not here. Not in front of the president and the damn press". His control slips as he buries his face in my neck. His lips burn where they touch. "Christ", he mutters. "What are you doing to me? I have a speech to deliver. But I can't even remember the first line. I swear I know it, but…" "You're a dirty bastard", I whisper, breathless. "Yours", he says, his teeth grazing my earlobe. "So… what do I tell the president?" –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– Aneeka's messy divorce leaves her heartbroken. With her inheritance on the line, outwitting her cheating ex should be her only goal. But fate has other ideas. Just 24 hours after the divorce, she unexpectedly marries Derek Simon, the country's most eligible bachelor. What starts as a wild, prove a point kiss explodes into an undeniable, all consuming passion. The pull between them is real, hot, and impossible to ignore. Is this her second chance at love? Or a disaster waiting to happen?

On the day of the company's annual gala, I quit my job and went back to the countryside, using up all my savings to help my best friend raise her daughter. She had died tragically, swept away by the river while trying to retrieve my hundred-million-dollar gala prize ticket that had fallen into the water. Wracked with guilt, I honored her dying wish and married her husband. After the wedding, I sold my blood and even a kidney just to make ends meet, raising my stepdaughter with everything I had. Eventually, she fulfilled her dream of winning the Best Actress Award and was about to marry the richest man in the country. But just as I was preparing to give a speech at her wedding, I saw my best friend, who had been dead for over a decade. She clutched my stepdaughter's hand and accused me of being a homewrecker who seduced her husband, and even claimed I had been the one who pushed her into the river all those years ago. Only then did I learn the truth—she had faked her death all those years ago, just to steal my prize ticket and travel the world, leaving me behind to raise her family. The shock sent me into a cerebral hemorrhage. When I opened my eyes again, I had gone back to the day she drowned.

I ran into my boss when I was complaining to my best friend about how he actively made the workplace hostile for me. He fired off a barrage of questions, "Where's the annual report? Where's the script for the speech? I can't believe you have the gall to enjoy a meal when you have a mountain of work to do!" That was it. I slammed the table. "It's due tomorrow! What's the rush? Are you going to hold a funeral for yourself tomorrow?" My boss stormed off in a huff. I asked for the bill, but the waiter came with two. My table came up to 60 dollars, but the other ran up to 3,750. "Your boyfriend said you're paying for both. Cash or credit, miss?" Shawn Goodall put that impossible bill on my tab and called himself my boyfriend? Unbelievable! I called him, utterly incensed. Yet, he had the gall to say, "Get the receipt and claim it from finance." Then, he hung up. The waiter was going to call the cops if I didn't pay up, so I had no choice but to accept this bitter defeat. I was trying to claim the money the next day, but the cops arrested me instead. "Shawn Goodall died at midnight and was found in his house. You're his girlfriend and the last person he met. You're coming with us."

I'm the only university student in the village. But my entire family praises my cousin, Calvin Meyer, who has graduated from a vocational school, for being a talented person. What I've discovered is that Calvin's so-called talent actually comes from him voicing my thoughts. When I want to recite a poem as a toast to the guests, Calvin quickly says the poem out loud, resulting in everyone applauding for him. Naturally, Calvin takes the initiative to show off his "flair" for poetry in front of Barbara Sullivan, a well-known professor, by reciting the poetry that I've thought up. Because of that, she has taken a fancy to him. My uncle, Gary Meyer, uses the opportunity to insult me for being a dull bookworm who doesn't know how to socialize with others. On my grandpa's 80th birthday, my aunt, Sierra Meyer, who runs a huge business on her own, brings her family back to the village for the occasion. Uncle Gary arranges for me and Calvin to prepare a speech of our own so that we can convince Aunt Sierra to extend a helping hand to the youngsters' careers in the family. At the banquet, Calvin shoots up to his feet with his wine glass raised. He shoots me a smug look at that moment. Meanwhile, I just keep smiling before I begin thinking about the shocking gossip featuring Aunt Sierra and her family.

Stanley Porter, my wife Jessica Evans’ close male friend, and I are both competing to be the next fire captain. In my first lifetime, I was chosen by a unanimous vote. On my very first night on duty as captain, Jessica came over to the fire station to celebrate with me. Sticking to my duties as captain, I didn't touch a single drop of alcohol. Yet, after drinking the chicken soup Jessica gave me, I fell into a deep sleep. That night, a massive fire broke out in the old district, resulting in the deaths of 58 people. Because I missed the station's alarm, I was accused of dereliction of duty and labeled as the main person responsible for the tragedy. The enraged families of the victims ended up beating me to death. In my second lifetime, I withdrew my name from the selection for captain. I handed the badge over to Stanley instead, saying, "You're better suited to be captain than I am." I'd assumed that this was enough to ensure that the fire couldn't be pinned on me. Yet, when the authorities looked into the fire, they ended up seeing me appear in the security footage from where the fire began. Everyone assumed I'd deliberately started the fire to get back at Stanley out of jealousy for losing out on the captain position. I now open my eyes again to live my third life. I watch as Stanley excitedly gives his speech on the podium after being made the captain. This time around, I submit a request for annual leave and take a cab straight to the airport.

Born from rape and abused since childhood, Layla loses her ability to speak and gradually loses the zeal to continue living. Giving up on life, she made her way to the edge of a cliff overlooking the vast ocean. Without a second thought, she closed her eyes and let her body go, welcoming the peace and calmness that came with death. And when she opened her eyes again, there was a pair of golden eyes staring back at her. ... Supreme Alpha Riven Qinn, Alpha King of Dark Creek Pack, strongest and most powerful lycan ever, has lived for centuries and with each passing full moon, he loses the hope of ever finding his one true mate. But fate directs him and he finds Layla on the shores of the river surrounding his territory, almost buried under the wet sand. He touched her and one word resounded in his head. MATE! Safe in the arms of the Alpha, Layla realizes the world is not as cruel as she thought. A deep passion springs forth between the mated lovers and Layla finds herself longing for his touch and presence. Suddenly strange phenomenon begins to occur. Layla's speech is restored and along with it comes strange powers coupled with the gut wrenching pain she endures every full moon. Her identity is discovered. She's the first Tribrid ever. Born from the three strongest bloodlines. This discovery brings forth damned creatures and giant titans from Tartarus, all with a desire to possess the blood of the Tribrid which can cause great havoc in the wrong hands. Riven and Layla will have to fight against Tartarus and the endless conspiracies that threatens to tear them apart. In the course of saving the world, can their love overcome all obstacles or will fate bring them to ruin?

Anita Baker and Ronald Si Long did not know that their first encounter had already bound them to an irresistible fate and it was now sealed from that moment in stone forever. If there's one thing Ronald Si Long hates, it is a female, especially when this female happens to be an earthling and human who goes against him. He is the rebellious one not someone being that way towards him! But even with his strength as the strongest and dangerous creature, he finds a true interesting opponent, Anita Bakers. … One thing that Anita Bakers hate is haughty people despite being male or female, rich or poor. Once you prove to be a bully, you aren't welcomed in her non-existent circle. Even though she is a nerd, being in her parents' pastry shop has made her one great pastry chef and her grandparents' secret lab has helped her in believing more in the existence of supernatural beings. She is innocent and naive and falls for Ronald's trick thinking it's a figure of speech and fails. Forced to adhere to his request, she follows him to the unknown with a raised confidence and no fear. On reaching Ronald's real home, she receives a pleasant surprise and embarks to a secretive work. But something about her and her presence has attracted many dangers and attention from the different tribes of Alien Lands, Ronald's real home. Oblivious of their reasons, Anita is forced to rely on Ronald's protection and soon Ronald relies on her and her work to protect both her and his subjects from danger. But, Ronald's heart shackles have been broken! Who and how? He doesn't do love? He is untamed! Spellbound: The Untamed series is compiled by; BK 1: Hired Prey, Love Happened. BK 2: Battle Of The Throne. BK 3: Dragon World.

I'm a mafia princess with crippling social anxiety. My fiancé, Rocco Falcone, is our family's consigliere. He’s the exact opposite of me—extroverted, effortlessly charming, a master at reading and bending people. He's supposed to be my protector. My only link to the outside world. Tonight was the charity gala for my late mother. I was hiding in the darkest corner, a mask covering my face. Rocco was supposed to give the speech. My speech. He never showed. [Emergency. Sorry. Skip the speech, I know you hate the attention. Driver will take you home after the auction. Don't wait up.] Then I saw Livia’s new post. It was a picture of Rocco, draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. He was looking down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness he never showed me. The caption was a gut punch: [No prom date, so my big bro saved the day! Couldn't have done it without him! ] The cold hit me. Bone deep. He ditched a memorial for my dead mother... to take his stepsister to a university dance? The guests began whispering and sneering that I, the famously awkward, socially crippled princess, couldn’t even force a word out. I stared at the whiskey I’d ordered for him. The ice in my glass was melting. Just like the hope in my heart. When I got back to our empty penthouse, my screen was lit up with missed calls and texts from Rocco. The last one came in thirty minutes ago: [Aurelia, trouble at Livia's prom. You know how she gets. Couldn't leave her. Your mother's gala means everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next time will be perfect. Trust me.] I didn't reply. An engagement held together by "next time." Was a promise like that even worth keeping?

My boyfriend got a tenure-track offer from Ashford University—and the night he found out, he cried in my arms for hours. Before he left the country, he held my hand, looking guilty. "Babe, the cost of living over there is insane, and you probably won't be able to find a decent job. Once I get settled, I'll bring you over in style…" He paused, waiting for me to appreciate how "considerate" he was being. What he didn't know was that just half an hour earlier, I'd overheard him on the balcony. "Don't worry, the tickets are booked. We're going together. No way I'm leaving you behind." On the other end of the line was his gentle, sweet junior. He'd spent years looking down on my education, always saying I couldn't understand his "soul." But every time I handed him my tips from waiting tables and delivering takeout—stained envelopes, greasy and crumpled—he'd take them like he was doing me a favor. What he also didn't know was that I'd long since gotten tired of playing the "I'll work to put you through school" bit. I only started dating him because he was cute—I wanted a little thrill. I just didn't expect to keep the act going for three years. And for a second here and there, I almost believed it myself. I was already looking for an excuse to dump him. Then he handed me one on a silver platter. So when he gave his little speech, I barely held back a smile as I fixed his collar. "Okay. Then take good care of yourself over there. I'm gonna be late for my night shift. Gotta go." I turned around and called my best friend. "Book me a table at VIVA tonight. I'm single again—time to party."

In the two weeks leading up to our fifth wedding anniversary banquet, my wife's secretary, Ronald Piper, sent me photos of the two of them in bed every single day. I pretend not to know. On the day of the banquet, my wife, Jessica Tuttle, books out an entire hotel and gives a heartfelt speech, saying that I am the person she is most grateful for in this lifetime. Everyone applauds through tears. Over the years, Jessica, the aloof and capable CEO, has flown a thousand miles overnight just to come home and cook me broth when my stomach hurts. And when she is sentenced to imprisonment, I willingly serve two years behind bars in her place without hesitation. To outsiders, we are a perfect couple who are deeply in love with each other. While cutting the cake, I notice the pendant on Ronald's wrist. I had to call in every favor I had to get that pendant for Jessica. Back then, she says to me, "As long as the pendant stays on, our love remains. If it's ever removed, our relationship is over." I look at Jessica, who sighs with a helpless and indulgent expression. "Felix, Ron has been having nightmares lately. He's been down with a fever, too. I lent it to him for a few days to ward off bad luck. Don't argue with a kid over something so small, okay?" She then pats Ronald's shoulder reassuringly and urges, "You should thank Felix. He's always been understanding. It's just a trinket. He wouldn't be reluctant to part with it." Ronald looks at me timidly and says, "Thank you for letting me have it. With it protecting me, I can finally sleep peacefully every night while holding it in my arms. When I get better, I'll give it back to you." My best childhood friend is furious upon hearing this. "How can you turn a blind eye to all this?" he hisses. Of course I can.