Low Oxalate Recipes Novels & Stories

"On Monday we divorce," said Darwis Dawson without hesitation in his cold and low voice. "Aside from the compensation written in the divorce agreement, you can ask for whatever you want." "Why so suddenly?" My voice is lower than usual. Darwis answered briefly, "Kayra has returned." I know who Kayra is. After a moment of silence, I agreed, "Okay." * Darwis was Kate's first love for 24 years. Before that, he was the perfect husband in her eyes. The man was always patient, and gentle and almost never made her worry. Although it was difficult for Kate to accept when Kate found out that Darwis liked another woman. Kate still files for divorce from Darwis so that Darwis can look for the woman he loves. Kate chose to comply. However, the Dervish disagreed.

“I like pretty little girls who obey instructions before complaining. They don’t get to be punished.” His stubble brushed against my face and a low moan escaped me. Damn him! “Stay like this. Don’t move an inch.” What? “And for an entire week, this would be the only piece of material you get to put on.” Again, what?! ~+~ Camila Rose Frost, a club stripper, never expected her life to take such a turn. When he abusive boyfriend and boss entered into a contract with the enigmatic business tycoon, Lorenzo King Calloway. What starts as a business transaction quickly spirals into something far more intense. Bound by a contract and drawn into King's world, Camila finds herself struggling between separating from king to saving herself from his obsessed lover and a growing affection for him.

Caliana wilfred, a wolf who lost her mother at birth eventually got sold by her step mother into the dangerous pack of a powerful alpha Edward, she knew instantly she was mates with him however having a low self esteem and coming from a weak family did take a toll on her, she was rejected, manipulated and ignored however it was made known her mate held a deadly secret and was more dangerous than she knew him to be, a beast who went wild every full moon, in need of a cure which only she knows about, the cure tied to her soul and life span, will she give up the cure for him? Will she keep her lips sealed , will she discover why her cure was tied to her life or will she realize the sacrifices she has to make to be the Queen she ought to be?

“Run all you want, little wolf,” Alpha Zephyr’s voice was a low, dangerous whisper as he trailed me like a predator ready to attack. “You will always end up back here with me because you are mine. I own you.” Rejected by her mate and accused of poisoning her wicked half-sister, the Luna, Athena was sent on a quest to kill the cursed Lycan Alpha of the Obsidian pack and bring back his head. But her mission becomes a twisted game of fear and desire as she finds herself bound to the very man she’s meant to destroy in ways she couldn’t explain. Alpha Zephyr was every bit the monster he was said to beꓽ cold, ruthless and untouchable. Knowing that Athena bears the Obsidian mark, he makes a deal with her to be his wife in exchange for her life.

“You walked into my room, Astrid. No bra. No panties. What did you expect me to do? Pray?” “I expect you to look away.” “Look away?” he chuckled in a low, dangerous tone as he trod toward me. “Baby, I've looked away for damn five years.” ~ When Astrid returns home for summer, she's expecting chill nights and zero drama. Except her brother's best friend–Rhett Rivers–is crashing at their house. And he has grown into every bit of the trouble she shouldn't want. One time at a party leads them to an unforgettable one nightstand What if Astrid Cole realizes she'd not just had sex with her brother's best friend but also let him touch her in some kind of way she never felt?

A story about a ruthless rogue and his human slave. "Y-You said I am j-just a slave." She finally let out staring at him through her teary gaze. But the ruthless beast infront of her just smirked at her. "Yes you are. My Slave. And you will do as I say." She shook her head taking a step back making him glare at her. "So you wouldn't listen huh." She gulped clutching her clothes. "Obey your master Slave!" She flinched hearing a low growl from him. When she didn't make a move he slapped the sofa's arms standing up from it glaring at her. "Don't make me repeat Slave! I SAID STRIP!"

His fingers slid into my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head back and expose my throat to him. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Mr. Turner,” I breathed, my voice breaking on a gasp as he found a sensitive spot just beneath my ear and sucked lightly. His growl was low and primal, vibrating through my skin as he pressed his body against mine. I felt every hard line of him, his heat bleeding through my clothes. “Why not?” he murmured, his voice rough with restrained need. I swallowed hard. “You’re… you’re my ex-fiancé’s father.” He paused. For a moment, everything stilled… his breath against my throat, the air between us, even the rain outside seemed to hesitate. Then he lifted his head, and our eyes locked. His were a stormy blue, intense and unwavering. “No one has to know, Catherine,” he said quietly, his voice was like a dark promise wrapped in silk. Then he leaned in with his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I can be your dirty secret.” A shiver ripped down my spine. His words settled deep in my gut, awakening something dangerous. I bit my lip. Every cell in my body screamed for me to walk away but I didn’t. Instead, I gripped the front of his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him hard. Desperately. He rumbled low in his chest, kissing me back with equal hunger, his hands roaming my body like he already knew every curve. When he finally broke the kiss, I was breathless. Then he dropped to his knees between my legs, with his eyes darker now. “I’m going to show you the world,” he said. “If you’d let me.”

*Smut After her mate's brutal rejection, healing prodigy Sandra surrenders to a dangerously seductive stranger in a dark alley, only to discover he's her uncle Marcus. Trapped by blackmail in his isolated house, forbidden desire ignites between lessons. But Marcus harbors a deadly secret about her father's death. ----------------- “Fuck, Sandra,” he growled, thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric until it stiffened, aching. “Vanessa’s right upstairs. If she hears us—” “I don’t care,” I panted, rocking up against him, chasing that thick pressure. “Make me forget today. Just tonight. Please.” I’m going straight to hell,” he muttered, then closed the gap. His mouth took mine slow this time, deliberate, like he was memorizing the taste of me. I sighed into it, hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. He tasted like black coffee and smoke and sin, and I wanted more. He tugged me closer, one hand fisting in my hair, the other splayed low on my back, pressing me against him. Heat flared low in my belly, spreading fast. I shifted, trying to ease the ache between my thighs, and he groaned against my lips, grip tightening. His tongue traced the seam of my mouth; I opened for him instantly, meeting him stroke for stroke until we were both breathing hard. He tilted my head back, lips moving down my throat, teeth grazing the frantic beat of my pulse. I gasped, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. “We should stop,” he rasped against my skin, but his hand was already pushing under my thin tank top, calloused palm gliding up my ribs. “We should,” I agreed breathlessly, then dragged his mouth back to mine, kissing him deeper, hungrier.

On campus, he was the most well-behaved student in the entire department. Oversized hoodies, black-rimmed glasses, quiet enough to fade into the background. Even when facing the notoriously strict Professor Elliott, he would only lower his head, clutch his books, and murmur a timid, “Professor.” At night, he became the most intoxicating dancer in the club. He wrapped himself around the pole, bent low, rolled his hips—each movement driving the men below into a frenzy. Bills were stuffed into the strap around his thigh as they shouted his name. To cover his obscene tuition fees, he took a private party offering an equally obscene payout. Inside the VIP room, he straddled the pole, bathed in dim, hazy light, fingers reaching for the final restraint he was meant to undo. Suddenly, the man lounging on the sofa stubbed out his cigar and stood. The light swept across his face— It was Elliott. The very man he feared most by day. He walked onto the stage step by step, then slammed him hard against the pole in full view of everyone. “Can’t even breathe in front of me during the day,” Elliott sneered, “but at night you’re here shaking your ass, begging men to f*k you?” His mentor wrenched his arms behind his back. Hot lips brushed his trembling earlobe, his voice low and dangerous. “Noah,” he murmured, “if you’re that desperate for money… why didn’t you just come to me? How much—per night?” He panicked and tried to struggle, but Elliott forced his legs apart with his knee, pinning him against the cold metal. “Don’t hide,” Elliott said softly. “Now. Take off the rest—right in front of me. And if you perform well…” A pause, deliberate. “I’ll pay you ten times tonight’s fee

For three years, I slept with my father’s head of security behind everyone’s back. Last night, with one hand at my throat and the other under my dress, he finally asked for a name, a future, something real. “After graduation,” I whispered against his mouth. “Let me finish my defense first. Then we’ll tell them.” “No.” By then I was shaking beneath him on the leather seat. “Then sooner. On my birthday next Friday. I’ll stop hiding then... Cassian, please—gentler...” That seemed to satisfy him. His mouth softened against my skin, and his voice dropped low against my ear. “Good girl. I just want you too much.” The next afternoon, I met my best friend for tea. The moment she opened the passenger door, she spotted the torn foil packet caught beside the seat and lifted a brow. “Bourbon cherry?” she said, already grinning. “That’s our company’s unreleased line. So this is what you’ve been hiding.” I snatched it up and shoved it into my bag. “It’s not public yet.” She frowned. “That’s the strange part. We only sent those samples to a handful of VIP clients.” Then she pulled out her phone. “I did a product follow-up with one of them yesterday, and his private account was basically a shrine to his girlfriend.” She turned the screen toward me. I only looked once, and my whole body went cold. The man in the photo had a line of Latin script inked low across his abdomen. I knew that tattoo. I had kissed it the night before. My fingers started shaking as I opened the private account Cassian had never shown me. April 4. The conservatory. Me and him. April 7. The upstairs studio. Me and him again. April 11—last night. A six-second clip in the back of the car.