Name A Yellow Fruit Novels & Stories

This isn't a love story, but almost a love story. Irina and Eric share a world through dreams and time travel. They have a strong mutual understanding about the feelings they have for each other, at the same time understanding that they cannot be together. Eric: I open my eyes and find myself standing alone in an empty room. The ceilings and the walls are neatly painted white. And the floor is composed of polished light brown wood. And there is a dark brown framed window at one corner where the light comes from. A bright yellow and pale red orange light tells me the sun is setting and soon it will be dark. Eric is a ghost who always appears in Irina's dream. Irina: I open the door to the bedroom. There is a dark brown framed window at one corner where the light is coming from. The yellow orange light passes through the open window. I see Eric standing right there on the spot captured by the yellow light. ‘You came back.’ I said. He stood there looking me in the eye. I almost died. Irina is a time traveler who may or may not change his fate. They alternatively tell a bitter sweet story. Love doesn't always mean together, sometimes it is deeper apart. Eric: I stand alone in the rain looking at the dark sky where all I can see is water, for it is both the rain and my tears flowing to my face. Irina: And suddenly it is no longer my reflection I see inside the mirror. What I see now is a figure of a man. I draw closer to see him clearly. But the closer I walk towards him, the farther I become from him. I couldn't get close.

Lewis Gordon says he likes older women. Seeing that he's young, energetic, and good in bed, I agree to be his girlfriend. But when he runs into me with his friends while I'm dressed in business attire, he is stunned and doesn't know how to react. Then, he quickly introduces me. "She's just a neighbor like an auntie." What? Middle-aged? I immediately break up with him. He sends a clumsy explanation, "When you dress like a middle-aged woman, it's really embarrassing for me." I block him and don't bother replying. Five years later, I bring my son along to celebrate my husband's godfather's birthday. Lewis shows up, holding hands with his girlfriend. When he hears my son call Johann Tucker "Grandpa Johann," he pulls a long face. He blurts, "This is my son, right? He should be calling him great-grandfather." I shoot him a look of pure disgust. "He's not your son." Lewis points at my son's face and sneers, "Look at his eyes and his face. He looks exactly like me. How can you still insist he's not my son?" All I can think of is my extremely jealous husband. If he hears Lewis claiming that he's my son's father, will he go crazy and kill him?

At 22, as the Santoro heiress, I'm choosing a husband out of the three Guerra brothers to honor the marriage pact between our families. I pass on Aurelio Guerra and choose the eldest brother, Cesare Guerra, the one with the burn scar on his face, leaving everyone in the Mafia reeling. Everyone knows I put aside my pride as a perfumer for Aurelio and shrank myself until I barely exist. For him, I even leaned on the Santoros' muscle to build his power base. In my last life, I married him, just like I'd always wanted. With the Santoros behind him, he became the youngest Don in the Mafia. After he was established, he hooked up with my stepsister, Maeve Santoro. Together, they stole the new perfume I created, "Reverie", locked me in the lab, and set the place ablaze, reducing me to ash. Now that I've been reborn, I decide to drag those two cheaters to hell myself. But then Aurelio comes back too, carrying the memories of our last life.

He's carrying a name no one hasn't heard of. A name written in books. A name defined by history. And no one can reject him except the girl with a yellow ribbon in her hair. Will history repeats itself? Or a new story will be written?

As I casually opened the online forum, a trending post at the top caught my eye. [Share the wildest thing you’ve ever done.] I clicked on the second comment, which seemed to contain just one line. [Without a doubt, it was the night before my buddy’s wedding when I had his wife come over for a “quality check.”] However, the poster kept adding to the thread. [That night, the woman tricked that idiot into thinking it was a bachelorette party, but she actually spent the whole night at my place. [She said she didn’t want to sleep with just one man forever and needed one last wild night before tying the knot. [By the end of the night, her throat was nearly raw from all the screaming. [We kept going until sunrise, right there in the wedding car her husband was supposed to pick her up later that day.] [Not only that, but even after they got married, this fool kept bringing his wife over to my place for dinner. [He’d help me in the kitchen while I pinned his wife against the fridge and kissed her. [He’d be glued to the game in the living room while his wife knelt in the bathroom and took care of me. [One time, when he passed out drunk on my couch, his wife and I had our own fun on the carpet beside him. [Every time he rolled over, we’d both jump. It was the thrill of knowing we could get caught at any moment.] The image loaded, revealing the familiar interior of the wedding car. The lucky charm I had given my wife dangled from the rearview mirror. My fingers momentarily stiffened, and I nearly dropped my phone. A wave of nausea rolled in my stomach as a chill crept up my spine. Just then, a hand appeared in my field of vision, waving in front of me. “Calvin, what are you zoning out for? You’re at my place, and you’re still on your phone. Come on. Dig in while it’s hot.” Wyatt Preston, my friend, grinned at me. Yet, his eyes kept straying toward my wife, Queenie Jennings, who was sitting beside me.

Steven Lambert claimed my mother almost killed his wife and daughter, branding me as a sinner from birth. For twenty years, he and his family tormented me in the name of atonement. I was forced into a cruel marriage with the vile Caleb Carpenter in Cindy's place, only to suffer a tragic end. Only then did the Lamberts realize I was their daughter. Yet all this time, the very existence they believed to be a sinner enjoyed their bottomless affection and adoration.

The dormitory entrance downstairs is completely blocked. After squeezing to the front row, a he-wolf from the physical training camp next door points and whistles at me. "Look, that's the Luminian vixen. She's famous for being a notch-collector and will do it with any Alpha." My bed is strewn with rotten meat and animal entrails. On the wall, the words "Harlot", "Floozy", and "Tart" are scrawled in bright red lipstick. Jessica Cobb, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed cheer captain, holds up her phone. "Girls, I really don't want to expose her, but she's just filthy," she says with a face filled with contempt. "She's worse than a dog in heat. On Monday, it was the little hottie with the six-pack abs in his Ferrari. "Wednesday, it was the mature Alpha who reeks of cigars and has eyes that look like they want to devour you in his Bentley. Yesterday, it was that old gentleman with the monocle who's into domination in his Rolls-Royce." She shoves the photos right in the faces of the surrounding women. "Clearly, she didn't come here to study, but to find a sugar daddy." Despite the crystal-clear pictures showing me in those cars, I can't reveal that the men with me are my obsessively controlling older brother, my hot-tempered uncle, and my great-uncle. Respectively, they are the Alpha King of Lumin, the Chief Justice, and the Chair of the Elders' Council. The surrounding male werewolves burst into laughter, their eyes roaming over my thighs. "Hey, Luminian doll, how much for one night? I'd like a taste of you too." They have no idea that these men they're fantasizing about as my sugar daddies are actually the werewolf elders they can least afford to mess with in this lifetime.

In her six years of marriage, Sydney Raines slowly lost herself, becoming more like a nanny. What made her finally come to her senses was the man’s words. “Lyra is coming back. You have to move out tomorrow.”“Fine, let’s get a divorce.” Then, Sydney turned around and left.When they met again, she was in the arms of another man.Julien Flint’s expression was terrifyingly dark.“We just got a divorce, and you’ve found yourself another man?”Her smile was as beautiful as the flower. “That’s my business, Mr. Flint. I don’t think it has anything to do with you.”

Thirty years ago, a progressive rock band called The Yellow Kings began recording what would become their first and final album. Titled “The Final Reconciliation,” the album was expected to usher in a new renaissance of heavy metal, but it was shelved following a tragic concert that left all but one dead. The sole survivor of that horrific incident was the band’s lead guitarist, Aidan Cross, who’s kept silent about the circumstances leading up to that ill-fated performance—until now. For the first time since the tragedy, Aidan has granted an exclusive interview to finally put rumors to rest and address a question that has haunted the music industry for decades: What happened to The Yellow Kings? The answer will terrify you. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

Her Romeo wasn't a character from a Shakespearian play. Her Romeo was an "overgrown husky" with dark fur and yellow eyes that followed her everywhere- crazily, even into her dreams.