Oh Angels Sent From Up Above Lyrics Novels & Stories

I waited for my fiancé, Charlie Boyd, to arrive for the wedding, but the one who pushed the door open was Conrad Parker, the deranged son of his family’s chauffeur. Amid the crowd’s mocking laughter, Charlie’s elegant secretary, Crystal Henderson, covered her mouth and said with a smirk, “Your future husband has come to pick you up. Shouldn’t you hurry off and marry him?” “As for Mr. Boyd, I’ll make sure to keep him company today.” Just then, Charlie strolled to the doorway with practiced nonchalance. “It was just a prank. Why the sour face? “That idiot is nothing but a lunatic. Just treat it like a childish game of make-believe.” I met the amused gleam in his eyes and said calmly, “He

Orlando and I had been together for ten years. I'd looked after his sick mom, sweating out a fever of my own, and where was he? Knocking back drinks with Rosalind, playing therapist to her broken heart. I swallowed my pride at work, getting chewed out by my boss, while he spent the night companying Rosalind because she had cramps. Then, when I got the news my mom had passed, I tried calling him, desperate for support. But nope—phone off. After a wild goose chase, turns out he was at Rosalind's graduation. That was it. I gave up. But Orlando wouldn't let go. Red-eyed, he begged me for just one more chance.

My husband promised we would spend Thanksgiving with my parents this year. Right before we left, he looked down at his phone and frowned. "Damn it. I forgot to change the delivery address again. Your parents' gift basket went to Cassia's place." I stood in the entryway with my fingers frozen around my scarf. For three years of marriage, Roman DeLuca had never removed Cassia Vail's address from his shopping apps. Whenever I asked him why, he always said the same thing: "Cassia and I grew up together. She’s basically family." The Italian espresso machine I wanted went to her apartment. He said her old machine had broken anyway. The sapphire bracelet for our wedding anniversary was signed for b

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen

Caught in a ruthless conspiracy, Maisie Vanderbilt lost her chastity and was forced to move out of her home. Six years later, she returned to the country with three little rugrats tagging along, ready for revenge. To her surprise, her adorable angels turned out to be much more resourceful than herself. They tracked down their birth father, a man powerful enough to protect her, and had him kidnapped. “Mommy, we kidnapped Daddy and brought him home!” The man gazed down at the three miniature versions of himself. Then, he backed her up against the corner of the wall. With a brow raised, he suddenly smirked. “Since we already have three, how about another?” Maisie retorted, “Scr*w you!”

When I was five years old, I was kidnapped by the human traffickers. Later on, I was abandoned at Dreadvault Isle's prison meant for serious offenders located in the infamous no-man's land of Cloudguard Continent. In order to avoid dying from starvation, I clung to Edgar Blythe, who was a serial killer with the highest bounty known on the Internet, and called him "Grandpa Eddie". Then, I moved to grip Franklin Graves, a former boxing champion, by his diamond-crusted belt just to beg for scraps. Finally, I entangled myself around a top-tier assassin's leg while yelling at the top of my lungs, "As long as you don't let me starve to death, I'll make sure to take care of you once you grow old

Left for dead by the man she loved. Reborn with a system built for absolute domination. When the zombie apocalypse hit, Eva’s pathetic boyfriend stole her last scraps of food and fuel to please his mistress, leaving her to be ripped apart by a ravenous horde. But instead of dying, Eva wakes up thirty days before the outbreak, and this time, she’s not playing the victim. With her memories of the future and "LUS" a ruthless Level-Up System echoing in her head—Eva ditches her toxic ex, hoards a fortress of supplies, and builds an unstoppable wasteland empire. Now, her sniveling ex is back on his knees, weeping and begging for forgiveness. But Eva doesn’t have time for a coward. Sh

My mom's dying wish was simple. She wanted to meet the guy I'd been with for eight years. That day, I called Tyler Carlton sixty-seven times. Not once did he pick up. Mom was already gone by the time his text came in. [The project's locked down right now. I can't leave. When things calm down, I'll come see your mom.] I held Mom's cold hand, my fingers shaking over the screen. [Okay.] Then, that night, I found the video. Tyler stood in a white suit at some fancy riverfront restaurant. Beside him was another woman, smiling softly as he held a birthday cake. The caption said: [Four years after graduation, I'm finally back by your side. Happy birthday, Vivian.] The comments were pac

After marrying the woman I had been pining for for ten years, Nelissa Ford, I thought that my sincerity could melt the ice around her heart. However, she exposed my undercover mission to her first love, Jared Hiller, who was a journalist, just to give him a sensational story and boost his career. Her actions ultimately pushed me into the abyss. Later, I was retaliated against by a drug trafficking gang, stabbed multiple times, and died tragically. I was dumped on the street. Seeing the news, Nelissa finally lost her mind.

On the day I'm set to go into labor, I plead to my husband, Timothy Langford, to take me to the hospital when I'm two centimeters dilated. However, a pissed-looking Timothy orders his men to lock me up in a sauna room that's heated to 356 degrees Fahrenheit. This is all because my estimated labor date is one day earlier than my widowed sister-in-law, Natalie Thornton. Since Timothy is bent on making Natalie's baby the oldest grandson of the Langford family, he instructs his men to inject me with 100 labor-suppressant injections. No matter how much I beg Timothy to spare our baby, he remains unmoved. Having received 99 injections, I feel a world of pain crashing down on me, seeing as I'm a