Pace Synonym

Camilla George is a young singer at a local bar, who has everything going for her at her pace, but her life took a huge turn when she bumped into her doppelganger in a mall one day, but only if that was all. She was proposed to marry her fiance. How could she marry the fiance of a girl, who looked just like her? How was she supposed to cope? Did you think she was going to agree to the setup? EXCERPT: “Why are you messing around with me? Your job is just look pretty, and be my wife!” the cold man rumbled while glaring at Camilla, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. “And that is what I have been doing, Mr. Sanders!” she rattled, but the man hissed, not believing it. “No, you have been doing more. You had been seducing me, and snugging into my mind!” he accused. “Was that a bad thing? So did you mean I should go away?” Camilla asked, meeting the man's fiery gaze, and she sucked in air when the man's hot palm touched her back. “No, even if you do, I am going to find you with my last breath, because you need to take responsibility for me,” he says. “So what happened to the no falling in love rule,” Camilla asked with a solemn look. “Trash it!” he says, crashing his lips on hers.

Bridget's lips curled slightly into a satisfied smirk. “We’ll see. Start the car and drive me to the city.” “Yes, ma’am,” Hans said as he opened the passenger door for her. As the car pulled out of the mansion’s long driveway, Bridget couldn’t help but notice Hans's composure. His movements were precise, his demeanor calm. “You drive well,” she remarked. “Thank you, ma’am,” Hans replied without breaking his focus on the road. Bridget tilted her head, studying him. “Why become a driver?” she asked suddenly. Hans hesitated for a moment. “Personal reasons, ma’am.” “Hmm. You’re full of secrets, aren’t you?” Bridget teased, though her tone carried genuine curiosity. Somehow, she wanted to know the deepest of the deepest of his driver. That's how it works for her. Maybe. Before Hans could reply, she noticed a black SUV trailing close behind them. Her instincts, sharp as ever, kicked in. “Hans, speed up,” she commanded. “We’re being followed.” “Yes, ma’am,” Hans said, immediately accelerating, maintaining his composed demeanor, and his expertise in driving. The black SUV matched their pace, confirming Bridget's suspicion. “Lose them,” she ordered, gripping her seatbelt. Hans’s hands moved deftly across the wheel, taking sharp turns and expertly navigating the highway. Bridget watched in amazement, realizing he was no ordinary driver. “Who are you, really?” she asked, her voice low and filled with intrigue. “Just your driver, ma’am,” Hans replied with a faint smile.

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker.

Asher and Malachi Wild, identical twin Vampire Princes, and second in line for the throne, are having some minor business troubles. Mystery crates are being moved using their import-export business, in shipments both into and out of the country. They don't know who, or why, or how it's happening. They get frustrated and go for a drive to clear their heads, and end up at a pub. A mysterious red-headed bartender catches their eye, for more than one reason. She's impressive, in all the right ways. Curves for days, strong, mysterious, and able to kill a nearly seven foot tall man while barely breaking a sweat. Now if they could just get her to talk to them and give them her name... Eliza Wellsong, Head of the Assassin's Guild for England. There are one and a half-thousand people under her command, and she's half-forced to take a night off by her second in command. She goes to the local pub to help out her friend, the owner of the pub, Molly, instead. Then the two princes walk in, and they just can't keep their eyes off her. She's confused, she's fat, and not that pretty, what the fuck is up with them? But then they're kind to her, and honest. It's a nice change of pace, and they're handsome enough, maybe she should let them in?