Patriotic Arm Tattoos

As the upcoming tour approached, the dance troupe suddenly revoked my position as the lead dancer. Anxious to get an explanation in person, I lost my footing due to my distracted state and tumbled down the stairs. While enduring the sharp pain and preparing to call for emergency services, a notification popped up on my phone screen: “Redwood Dance Troupe: Welcome our new lead dancer, Averil Wells, and our generous sponsor, Julian Ford." The accompanying photo featured two smiling faces—my husband of seven years, whom I had secretly married, and his pampered mistress. Julian had his arm wrapped around Averil's waist as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Meanwhile, Averil clung to Julian's neck, her face radiating shyness and delight.

"Why are you blushing Mia?" I shiver at the sound of his voice, get a grip. "No reason" I squeak, thinking about all the ways he could take me right now in this car. "Why are you crossing your legs so tightly Mia?" his voice low making me squeeze my legs tighter, my lower region on fire. "Ace" I whine, Im not sure why though. "What is it Mia, tell me what you need" ***_*** She was big, curvy and bullied She left running with her tail between her legs Now she's back and out for revenge He left home for his country He was the sweetest But war changed him Now he's full of smirks, covered in tattoos He was her childhood crush, she was like his little sister. They both are in a world of shock seeing how much the other has changed. WARNING Mature themes Mature language Mature contents

Ean's face twisted with anger as he grabbed me by the arm, dragging me toward the old, rusted freezer in the corner of the warehouse. "You're going to feel what Helen felt," he spat. "Maybe that'll teach you not to mess with her." I struggled against him, panic rising in my chest. "Ean, this is insane! It was an accident! Let me explain—" He wasn’t listening. He shoved me inside the freezing metal box and slammed the door shut. The echo of the lock clicking into place made my heart pound in my ears. I banged on the door with my fists. "Ean, please! You can’t do this!" I screamed, but the sound of his footsteps grew fainter as he walked away. He left me with nothing but a single bowl of water, like I was some kind of prisoner. I slumped against the cold metal, shivering. The temperature plummeted almost instantly. The hum of the freezer kicked in, and I realized too late—it wasn’t broken like he thought. It was working, and I was trapped. My body shook uncontrollably as the cold seeped into my bones. I screamed for help until my throat was raw, clawing at the walls in desperation. My bloody handprints smeared across the icy surface, a silent plea for mercy that no one would hear. Seven days passed. When Ean finally returned, the look on his face was one of smug satisfaction. He had expected me to beg, to apologize. But when they pried open the freezer, all they found was my frozen body, stiff and silent, my suffering long over.

BLURB Loud cheers and applause rang on the air. Agnes smiled widely and hugged her husband’s arm in joy. It was their wedding day, and she was so happy that she can barely contain it. Perhaps it was the feeling called above the clouds? She looked up, wanting to see the happiness in her husband’s, Leon, eyes. He was also smiling, but what contained his eyes and barely obvious intent hidden behind his smile made Agnes shudder as fear slowly showed its way inside her whole body. Her smile faded. Her husband was smiling. He was smiling with joy, not because he was happy with the wedding- he was smiling like a beast who has their prey on his foot- [CLANG!] Before Agnes knew it, the shouts of happiness were replaced by cries of despair. The claps and applause was replaced by hurtful sounds of slaps. The colorful, bright and joyous venue was replaced by dark, damp and scary room. Agnes just saw her pathetic self on the corner of that room; she was still and was looking at nowhere. She remained motionless, but in her mind, she was trembling in fear and helplessly crying in despair; “Please help me out from here!”

When my boyfriend came to my family home to ask for my hand in marriage, my sister-in-law, who was usually cold and aloof, became a completely different person. She flung her arm around me warmly and asked, “Cassie, who’s your favorite? This boyfriend or one of the dozen or so men that you’ve brought home before?” As I denied her accusation and interrupted her, she cheekily batted her eyelashes at my boyfriend and cooed, “Oh, yes, yes. Cassie has never brought another man home. You’re the lucky first!” In the midst of dinner, she deliberately took her own soiled underwear out of the bathroom, pinched her nose, and waved it around as she screeched, “Oh my goodness, Cassie! I know you don’t really care about hygiene, but we have guests today! How can you have no shame? It smells so bad!”

(Dual POV) Elias Ford Vance Dabney-Aparo has never been the relationship type. Building a multi-billion-dollar hotel empire left little room for love—or for anyone who could keep up with his pace. But a routine visit to one of his properties turns anything but routine when he meets Cora Eldredge, a housekeeper and part-time model trying to find her footing in a world that keeps underestimating her. Cora’s always felt like an outsider, even at the hotel her uncle manages. But one unexpected encounter with Elias changes everything. He’s older, polished, and completely out of her league—and yet, when he looks at her, she feels seen for the first time. The spark between them is undeniable, but so are the complications: their worlds don’t mix, and the age gap isn’t small. Still, what they’ve found feels real—something warmer than either of them expected. Can they bridge the distance between status and circumstance… or will they both walk away before love has the chance to begin?

My husband doesn't love me or our daughter. It's been six years since she was born, but he's never held her. The doctors say he has an emotional disorder, and that he doesn't know how to express the way he feels. But when his true love returns, he smiles at us for the first time. He even brings our daughter a gift. I think it's because he's finally seen sense… until she and I see the photo he uses as his phone's wallpaper. In it, his eyes are crinkled as he smiles. He has one arm around a little girl whose front tooth is missing, and he holds his true love's hand with the other. My daughter tugs on my hand, and her eyes redden. "Mommy, do you think we should leave? Should we give Daddy three final chances? Let's leave him if he still doesn't want us after that."

Elena Carter was supposed to paint her future in color. Instead, she’s trapped in a marriage built on power, legacy, and lies. Forced to wed billionaire playboy Julian Blackwood to secure a family alliance, Elena finds herself in a cold, loveless union with a man who barely looks at her—let alone cares. But Elena is a hopeless romantic, a dreamer clinging to the memory of a boy who once promised her the world. And Julian is distant and indifferent, has no interest in love or fairy tales. As Elena tries to make the impossible work, secrets begin to stir beneath the surface of their fractured marriage. And karma always finds its way home.

During the ten years since I was found and brought to my biological family, Sonia Baxter, the girl who took my place, and I have been as close as real sisters. Even Mom says that Sonia cares more about me than a real sister would. I once swore I'd give my life to protect our special family of four. When Sonia is rushed into emergency surgery with a ruptured cerebral aneurysm, I am in my office, calmly practicing a basic suturing technique on a surgical simulator. On the screen, the robotic arm threads the needle with such precision that it looks like a work of art. A few minutes later, my boyfriend, Oliver Lyons, slams open the office door and shouts at me, "Amelia Baxter! Sonia's in critical condition. Only your micro-dissection skills can save her! Every expert in the hospital is waiting for you! We've got less than an hour before the window closes!" He looks at me with hopeful eyes. I'm the only person in the country capable of performing a surgery this complex. My hands are even known as the "Hands of God". However, I simply reply with a hum and continue fiddling with the model. Suddenly, my parents rush in. Mom grabs my arm and cries out, "Amelia! That's your sister in there! How could you just stand by and watch her die?" I gently pull away from her and hold my right hand out in front of them. This hand, which had once created countless medical miracles, is now trembling slightly. "Unfortunately, since yesterday, I've been showing symptoms of essential tremor. Dad, Mom… this hand is ruined."

The 99th time Owen Anderson slides a ring onto my finger, his adopted sister, Monica Morgan, calls again. And just like that, for the 99th time, he ditches me at the altar to be with her, who's having another depressive episode. I'm fed up. I yell after him as he walks away, "Go ahead! Walk out on me, and I swear I'll marry someone else!" He doesn't even flinch. Instead, he snaps, "Can you stop being so unreasonable? We can get married anytime, but Monica's the only sister I've got." Then, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there like a complete fool. What he doesn't realize is that this time, I mean it. Later, when he gets down on one knee for the 100th time, his older brother, Chris, slips an arm around my waist and says, "Sorry, Owen. She's your sister-in-law now."