Mañanas Milagrosas Novels & Stories

"Oh, Angel, I do love you truly. I love you more than words can express. You are the sunshine that brightens up my day, the star that guides me through the night. You are the rhythm that makes my heart sing, the melody that fills my soul with joy. You're my Angel, my miracle. You are my everything, my reason for being." He took a deep breath, his eyes burning with intensity. "I love the way you make me laugh, the way you always know how to make me feel better. I love the way you always hold me, touch me, kiss me. I love the way you always make me feel like I'm home."

"So you're like... my own personal supernatural Jiminy Cricket?" His smile widened. "If Jiminy Cricket was over six feet tall, hot, and could punch a hole through time and space, then yes. Exactly." I shook my head slowly. "This is insane." "Sweetheart," Mikah said, his tone suddenly softer, more serious. "You're in a world where wolves walk like men and soul bonds tie strangers together. Trust me... I'm the least insane thing you'll have to deal with."

The cold night air hit my face as I ran through the dark streets behind Club Máscara. My breath was short, and my heart was beating fast in my chest. Mateo. The name kept screaming in my head. Señor Mateo. The boy who used to share books with me, the man who had just saved me from Diego hours ago, was the exact same man who had just walked into the private room. He was the one who just saw me completely naked under that red light.

Over the next week, Gogo armed her in subtler ways: Herbs tied in muslin—imphepho for clarity, umhlonyane for protection, beaded bracelets woven with charms against compulsion and a thick Basotho blanket, its geometric patterns hiding older, deeper wards. "These will help," Gogo said, folding the blanket into Rita’s trunk. "But you are your best shield." The night before Rita left, under a swollen full moon, Gogo led her to the field behind the house. A circle of salt, crushed herbs, and candlelight waited. Gogo wa;led right into the middle of the circle and Rita followed. "Breathe in," Gogo commanded, pressing a smoldering bundle of imphepho to Rita’s chest. The smoke curled around her, thi

"I'm not actually amnesiac. I'm just not the Charlotte you remember." I leaned closer and smiled. "I'm actually an elf. A sorceress, to be exact. And that wasn't an earthquake. It was a Trial of Lightning!" Matteo immediately grabbed his phone and checked the news. To his astonishment, I was right. There had been no earthquake at all. Lightning had simply struck our building. As he stared at me in stunned silence, I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'm not scared of some curse or bad luck, honey. In fact, with a sorceress around..." I smiled. "I guarantee you're going to be the luckiest man on this planet."

One Last Moment Live each moment like it's the last moment in you life - Jim MacLaren ~***~ Reign’s POV Honestly, on my first day here, I instantly gravitated to him even if it was just arguing; it was damn entertaining. I guess it's the attention that I was getting that made it worth my while. It’s like a magnet and its object, no matter how hard you try pulling away, it hauls you back. It was great having someone who you could bond with naturally without any interference, nothing’s more amazing than that.

His pack wasn't going to stay in hiding for long, they had to act fast. "You may not believe me, but all of us in hope and unisim is greater than a thousand fold of them." Myra smiled at him, exposing her dimples cheeks. She knew she was right, and Kendrick knee it too. Maybe the moon goddess didn't really give up on her people, maybe she still watched over them, she was their only hope now. Myra knew that if the people stopped believing the moon goddess exists, then she would sieze to exist. She was formed out of the hope of the people in the full moon, and she needed them to believe the moon goddess was still alive and still cared for them.

There were layers to everything. The population was made up of several billion people. Of course not everyone was the same. Just as the way Christian Callahan was also different from the other male population. ‘Like Noah…’ Camille couldn’t help but think, and she could feel her spirits dampening somewhat. It was no use. No matter how much she tried to forget about Michael and not think about him anymore, it didn’t work. Eventually, she would find her thoughts drifting back towards him. It was pitiful in a way. Why did she, a grown woman, keep thinking about a man and wishing to depend on him?