Not Just Pretty Face นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Emphasised Isa, and when I saw everyone, they seemed to agree with her. “I can't be what he wants, I am the total opposite to what he described." I am not pretty - even though many people don't agree on that, I don't have a beautiful smile, and most importantly I am not a challenge. If I have a sliver of chance with Justin, I will take it in a heartbeat.

They're not rogues, they are wild wolves, and no one knows where they live. I stretched my arms over my head. My heart feels relieved. I'm so glad Nora isn't home, and I'll never see her in my life. I'm sluggish to see her face; she always shows sadness. I rubbed the cream on my face. I have to maintain the beauty and health of my face. I am a perfect woman admired by many women and men. Not only face, but I also have to maintain my weight. Apart from beauty, the body is also the most important part of me and something that I am proud of.

Doctor Frank welcomed the couple and their son. "Good morning Mr. Badmus", he exchanged a handshake with him. "Good morning doc! How is the work going?" Mr. Badmus returned the greetings. "My work, I'm always busy, I give glory to the creator." Madam, you look radiant this morning, he poked fun at madam Florence. "Doc you can say that again", she blushed with her response. Her husband did not have time to compliment her on dressing, to him makeup is a waste of time. Whenever someone compliments Madam Florence, she always feels the movement of butterflies in her stomach.

The man standing in front of me was none of those things. Sharp features with the kind of definition that looked like it had been decided rather than simply arrived at. Dark hair. A jaw that matched the rest of him, which was to say it looked like it meant something. And the eyes, which I had already known, which I had been managing for weeks, but which without the mask were no longer the only thing his face contained and therefore landed differently, as one part of a whole rather than the whole thing itself. He was beautiful. The word arrived plainly and without apology. Not in spite of the stories or despite the fear or complicated by any of the context. Simply: beautiful. The kind of face

"I signed her myself. Do you believe that I waste my time on folks who aren't the best? A male voice on the other end of the line commented, "She's not beautiful." "She can act like garbage all the time, but her face is..." "She can act like trash all the time." He paused for a few seconds to consider how he could phrase it more kindly. He said over and over again that it was "not pretty."

But every time I think of giving up, a part of me refuses. Sometimes I wonder why he wants me. Is it my form? I was clear about my appearance. I actually have a pretty face, a very pretty face, and my eyes are the prettiest. It's not something I'm proud of. But then again, if I had my facial features as an extra point, my body would be deficient.

but he's the hottest of all guys here right now. I mentally shook my head and cringed at what just came to my mind. What am I even thinking? Yeah, he's attractive, but not 'that' attractive. That's bullshit! Who am I fooling? Of course, he's fucking handsome. I almost forgot that he has been known as 'a man with a beautiful face'. He has the most versatile face I ever encountered, he could pull off any looks. He's close to being perfect, but I would never tell him that. Not in this lifetime. I'll die first before I can.

At the restaurant, he eyed the hickeys on my neck and teased, "Guess you finally got a taste last night. How was it?" "Fantastic." When a woman was as drop-dead gorgeous as Elise, just the mere sight of her was enough to make one feel good down to their bones. "You made the first move?" Jordan asked, his gossip mode on full blast. I shook my head. "Honestly, I can't figure out why she suddenly came onto me." "What's there to figure out? You're handsome, you're big, and you've got skills. What's not to love?" Jordan burst out laughing before adding, "Now that there's been a first time, there's bound to be a second. You have a beauty in your arms, and you're getting paid for it. You're doing b

I left through the manor's secret tunnel, heading straight for the deepest black-market clinic in Chicago. On the cold operating table, the surgical lights blinded me. "I'll confirm this one last time," the underground doctor raised his scalpel. "I'm digging this chip out without anesthesia. It's going to be absolute hell. And once I break and rebuild your jaw, you will never look the same." "Do it." I closed my eyes. My phone screen lit up one last time next to the operating table. A text from Tessa. [Aria, happy fifth anniversary. But your Don is pinning me down right now. You lose.]