Might Makes Right Book Novels & Stories

A normal person would feel annoyance; Dylan felt imminent catastrophe. "It wasn't a strategic pivot, Mike," Anna interjected smoothly, before Dylan could unleash one of his famously abrasive replies. She tilted her head, giving Mike a look that was polite, yet subtly condescending—the kind that only a very well-educated person uses on a slightly less educated one. "We've been quietly enjoying our relationship. I’m a psychiatrist at G.L. Hospital, so we're both quite private. We didn't want a circus distracting from the good work the hospital does."

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. Make Me Yours (Heron’s Landing Book 3) Published by Blue Violet Press LLC Seattle, Washington Copyright © 2016, 2020 by Iris Morland Cover design by Qamber Designs All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief

Tryin' to make sound like I'm really alright, after all the thing I've seen in Picaresque. It's still a minutes ago, since I step in in their territory. But that several minutes are enough to tear and shuttered me already. They are really pitiful, just like me. But in different aspects. The saying must be truth. 'Every people have their own misery and monsters to be defeat on, so everybody doesn't have a right to judge the others people perspective'. That's why I really need to think a way anytime by now. I just can't bear to see them suffering over the hands of their own kind of people.

The kind of mistake that comes when you underestimate your opponent. I caught his wrist before the blade could penetrate, twisted with enough force to break the joint, felt the snap before he screamed. I used his body as leverage to slam him into the second attacker rushing from my blind side. The impact was enough to drive the air from both their lungs. Mara was already moving. She did not wait for instruction. She never does. She has learned that waiting is often the same as dying. Kira surged just beneath her skin controlled but lethal. The white light gathered in her eyes. The power hummed through the air around her like a visible thing.

“Don't sell me away, Father, I’d be good to you. Please, don't let them take me.” With might, Eloise floundered against one of the men. Nobody wanted to be a slave to a Mafia, most definitely not Vermont Cardoniss but it is better to be a slave to a mafia than being a sex toy of your very own Father– I thought. “T-Take me instead!” My voice was shaky but I was certainly heard because the man in a red suit walked slowly to my bedside with gentleness. He was tall and stunning, and his eyes– That doesn't modify our current crisis! I snapped at myself

“Marriage between families is a serious matter. Even if Mr. Gregory already has someone he cares for, he’s still willing to sacrifice his happiness to marry you. “Please, stop putting on this attitude and accept it.” His tone sounded polite, but the disdain in his words echoed Connor’s. I had no interest in wasting my breath. Keeping my face expressionless, I refused to take the box. As the standoff dragged on, the fortune teller finished his reading. Stroking his beard, he announced, “Miss Starks and Mr. Liam are a match made in heaven. Their union will bring prosperity to both families.”

To remind her that I could reach anyone, anytime, anywhere. I thought about Emma. About her face when she realized her son was missing. For a moment—just a moment—I felt something that might have been shameful. Then I pushed it away. Shame was for people who had done something wrong. I hadn't done anything wrong. I had fought for what was mine. That was my right. The door opened again and a different agent came this time. A man in a cheap suit with a tired face. "You're free to go, Mr. Pritchett."

“How so?” Maya laughed softly. “Let’s just say she’s not exactly… from our world.” A pause. “She’s sweet,” Maya continued, her voice dripping with false generosity. “But she’s had a bit of a colorful past, you know. She tends to… attach herself to men with influence.” The woman’s brows lifted slightly. “Bryan Blackwood is… generous,” Maya added, shrugging. “He likes projects.” At another table, Maya leaned toward a man in his fifties, a board member of a multinational conglomerate.

“This book isn’t for you.” “But I like the story.” “‘Like’ isn’t part of your life curriculum,” she said coldly. “Ace, this is a weak book. One that tries to make justice sound like a matter of emotion. And the world doesn’t work that way.” “It’s just fiction, Mama. For fun.” “Fiction won’t make you anybody.” Her eyes went ice cold. “We don’t read books that justify rebellion against the law. Especially ones that humanize criminals.” “But it’s not—”