Nonsense Synonym

"You do know that being my maid makes you my property and I can do whatever I want with you." He put a finger to her chin and tilted her head upwards. "Anything I want ..." She looked at him trembling. These days she had spent with him were scary. He truly was the devil. "I'm not your toy", she managed to say. "According to my contract, you are...", he said dangerously. She was dealt the wrong cards. She is already in a world of pain. Her body ached terribly. He grabbed her bruised body and dragged her... Lilian Mendez picked pockets for a living. She did whatever she needed to do to survive. Life was tough so she had to be tougher which meant making tough decisions. After a failed attempt at stealing from the wealthy at a luxurious gala event, she finds herself the property of Mr. Damian Richards, the multi-billionaire businessman, a handsome yet sour personality, and a no nonsense man. He was every girl's dream. Every girl lusted and drooled over him but he never looked their way. He them. He had no time for love. Lilian becomes his maid to make up for stealing from him. She hated everything about him. He was just another arrogant, rich moron. Men like him were only good for their money and nothing else. She wanted nothing more to do with him than to hopefully get out of his place in one piece. She was nobody's toy or plaything. However, over time, boundaries are broken and feelings are shared and grown. Is Lilian finally the woman to tie this eligible bachelor down or is it all a play to get rich off him?

“Amara Cross, are you trying to drive me insane? I agree to go to a club and find you swaying like a pro whore, throwing your ass at hungry eyes, and you are proud of it too.” His grip crushed my arms, sharp and painful. My hand slipped between my thighs, pressing hard, pain mixing with heat, and he did not notice. But when he saw my bloodshot eyes, he let out a hot, frustrated breath. “Amara, are you drunk?” I nodded, confused. Tears spilled like a flood, driven by that brutal pulse burning deep inside me. “Dean Dorian, I am very drunk.” His eyes widened. Then they darkened even more. “What nonsense are you saying, little girl? What did you take to end up like this?” I was shaking. A soft moan escaped me as my fingers pressed harder. I could not hold it in anymore. I covered my mouth, then dropped my hand, speaking to him in miserable pleasure. “Dean Dorian, touch me.” I whispered it, begging. His eyes, drowned in darkness, searched my face like a man looking for salvation. Everything stopped when his hand settled on the back of my head. He leaned in and crushed his mouth against mine, hungry and savage. ------------------- Amara Cross did not enter university looking for love. She entered to survive. A quiet scholarship student with no one behind her, carrying a fragile past, dreaming of one thing only. Safety. But on a dark night, on a road with no mercy, a man saves her. A man who was never supposed to be part of her life. Dorian Vale. The university dean. Powerful. Cold. Controlling. Dangerous. What starts as silent rescue turns into attention. Then protection. Then obsession with no rules. He knows everything. Watches her. Decides for her.

"How did you manage to sleep at night Reid, the fact that you lied to me?" I saw the shock in his luminescent eyes, the face of the man I love, yet chose to hurt me. "Becca.....I planned to tell you, believe me, I do" he retorted with the cracking in his voice, and that moment I felt the breaking and twisting in my heart. "You're a pheromone machine and your count of women you played with is higher than the number of capillary vessels in your entire body, I refused to be on the list" The pain is evident on his gorgeous face, he gazed at me, I could sense the nagging feeling inside of me, however, I pushed the thoughts in the back of my head. "Becca, you got it all wrong, the predicament you have between me and Liz is nonsense!" he snapped, the intensity of anger in his voice was tormenting. "I've seen enough Reid, you changed women more frequently than a leopard changed its spots, pity me for thinking that you and I can be happy, this is the last time I'm allowing myself to be stupid." Becca lost her family in a tragic accident years ago, trying to cope with the sadness of being alone, making her parents proud in any way possible. Nothing matters and bothers her except work, until her new boss Reid Alonzo start provoking her with his handsome face and arrogant attitude. How can she manage to ignore the sight of a man that can make her fall in love and live a happy life? What if she finds out that Reid Alonzo has an ultimate secret involving the lost of her family, and the reason he wants Becca in his life is all about guilt? Can Becca say "Her No" to love?

I was five months pregnant when my husband, James Fletcher, allowed his mistress to invade our lives—on the very night of our wedding anniversary. But she didn’t just come to flaunt her presence. She came to take my life. Pregnant and vulnerable, I confronted her, desperately clinging to my dignity. But the fight ended with me tumbling down the staircase, my swollen belly crashing against the cold, hard ground. Blood seeped across the floor, vivid and unrelenting. James only arrived after hearing about his precious mistress’ ordeal. He stood there, staring at the pool of blood, at my broken body. But instead of helping me, he rushed to her side. She had nothing but a few superficial scratches, yet he swept her off to the hospital like she was the one dying. By the time he returned, my child was gone. The doctors barely managed to save me. And what did James do? He struck me in front of everyone, his words sharper than the sting of his hand. "Lisa only wanted to bring you a Christmas gift, and you attacked her out of nowhere! You shameless witch!" “She didn’t force her way in! What nonsense! I gave her the house key ages ago. You just can’t stand that she’s prettier and kinder than you!" “You didn’t just hurt her. You killed my child! You vile, despicable woman. Why couldn’t it have been you instead?” Lisa stood beside him, pretending to comfort him while flashing me a smug, victorious smirk. James’s vicious tirade didn’t stop there. He dragged my name onto the internet, painting me as a monster.

"Obey us!" The four powerful werewolves loomed over me while my hands were tied behind my back. "No! I won't submit to anyone," I muttered. Alpha Bellamy, Alpha Caspian, Warrior Emre, and the Rugged rogue Wolvin wore khaki pants and white shirts, their muscles bulging and breaths ragged from hours of chasing after me on the mountains. "That's enough. We've listened to your nonsense and given you time. But if you want to fuck with us--," the towering rogue hissed, beginning to take off his shirt, "then we'll fuck you up real good!" "And we won't even break a sweat," Alpha Bellamy chimed in, shedding his shirt. My gaze shifted to the other two, who had also exposed their upper bodies now. All I could ask them was. "Why now? You all rejected me, betrayed me, and abandoned me when my pack was under attack. Why return now?" The four exchanged glances, with Alpha Caspian taking the lead to confess, "Because we've finally realized how deeply we've fallen for you!" It was too late, I have lost the part of me who craved a mate. …. After getting cheated on by her chosen mate on the day of her mating ceremony, everybody said Genevieve would never find a loving mate. Little did they know, the Moon Goddess had planned something bigger for Genevieve when she gave her four handsome, sexy, powerful and always horny mates to protect her. But the truth was far from what was known to Genevieve. The perfect mates of Genevieve yield secrets that would change their relationship forever. Will Genevieve find out her mates are far from perfect, or will her mates fall so deeply in love with her that they will do anything to make sure their truth never comes out and Genevieve remains theirs?

Every bonding anniversary, Shawn would bring home a new human girl from the outside—always under the lovely pretense of letting me mentor her on how to serve an Alpha. On our seventh anniversary, he brought back a nightclub girl dressed in a Princess Snow White outfit—cheap satin trembling under the chandelier's light. “She doesn’t have anything appropriate for an occasion like this,” he said casually. “Let her borrow your bonding dress. And the jewelry I gave you last time. As for shoes—what you're wearing now will do.” Then he added, with a trace of irony, “She’s just a young human girl, clueless. Teach her a few things about our world, will you? Especially the part about the bed.” Everyone was waiting for the spectacle—for me to break again, as I always had. And I didn’t disappoint them. I looked at Shawn, my voice steady, and said I wanted a bond-severance. He laughed—short and sharp—and leaned back like he was watching a comedy. “Clara, when are you going to stop with this bond-severance nonsense? I’ve heard it so many times. They’re just human girls, while you are my Luna. How could they ever compare to you?” Then, grinning as if doing me a favor, he added, “Fine. If you really want a bond-severance, I’ll gift you a territory in the south. Consider it a reward for doing your job as my Luna.” The room erupted in laughter. To them, I was ridiculous—greedy, jealous, hysterical. But what they didn’t know was that this was the 365th time I’d asked for a bond-severance. And the first time, I truly meant it. When he found out I wasn’t joking this time, he lost his composure. He searched for me across the world—only after he realized I was no longer where he thought I’d always be.

After being forced to give my wife's first love my heart, I died in the hallway of the private hospital she had personally founded. My six-year-old son, Ash, had already begged her thrice by the time I had drawn my last breath. The first time was when he tugged on her hand, saying I was coughing up blood. Sneering, she claimed, "So he's finally learned something—teaching his kid how to lie." Then, she had the bodyguards throw him out of the room. The second time was when he clung to her sleeve, insisting that I rambled nonsense due to the pain. "It's just a heart transplant," she opined with a frown. "The doctor already said he won't die." At that, the bodyguards stepped in again and dragged him away. The third time was when he fell to the ground, clutching her pant leg with all his strength, crying that I had already passed out. She finally lost her temper by this point, grabbing Ash by the throat and hurling him out of the room. "I have already said it—Howard isn't going to die. Dare to disturb Skye's rest again, and I'll throw both of you out of this hospital," she warned. To save me, my son pawned the most precious thing he owned—his St. Christopher medal—to a nurse. "Ma'am," he said. "I don't need to live a long life. I just want my dad to live." She accepted the medal and was about to arrange for me to be transferred to the last available room. However, my wife's first love, Skye Whitley, had someone block the doorway with his pet dog. He mentioned, "Sorry, kid. Your mom's worried I'll get bored if I can't see my dog. This room is reserved for him."

On my fifteenth birthday, I begged my mom to teach me how to make a cream cake from scratch. We only had cream at home. No flour. So we went out to buy some. When we came back, we didn't walk into a birthday surprise. We walked in on my father pressing a strange she-wolf down onto the dining table. Cream was smeared all over her bare body. That night ended with my parents signing the Mating Dissolution Agreement. From that day on, cake became my nightmare, a taboo I could never touch. The night I mated with Alpha Kaelen of the Shadow Pack, amidst the pain and pleasure of his marking bite, I whispered in his ear. "Honey, if you ever want to end our mating, just bring me a cake." He frowned, his eyes burning with possessiveness, and kissed the words away. "Don't talk nonsense, Seraphina. You are my fated mate. How could I ever let you go?" Later, on his birthday, his intern secretary Elena ordered a three-tier luxury cake. Kaelen went into a rage, throwing both the cake and the intern out the front door. Back then, I was moved, even telling him not to be so harsh on a low-ranking wolf for my sake. But six months later, Elena had been promoted to Kaelen's personal assistant. On my birthday, she walked into my laboratory, swinging her hips, holding a burnt, homemade cake. I called Kaelen, asking him to remove the provocative item. On the other end of the line,his tone was casual. "Elena put her heart into making that for you. It would be cruel to throw it away. Be a good girl, don't be so sensitive. Have the grace of a Luna." The phone slipped from my hand. It turned out my mother wasn't wrong. Cake really is best served with a side of rejection papers.