Quandale Dingle Original Photo

Is it possible for a Man to get pregnant? "Warren Hell Loid," a succesful man at the age of 21, when suddenly his one and only brother took away everything, leaving him with nothing and got kick out of to their House. He was trying to think of the things that can make him go back to his original life in the bar, where he met, "Dionne Westly Ferrer," a Play Woman who keep flirting at him, only for him in the end to get one night stand with her. The only difference is that Warren is the one who run away from her. Few weeks ago, Warren feels that everything is changing out of his body that his friends had to get him in the doctor where the Doctor say, "Congratulations, Mr. Warren. You're seven weeks pregnant."

Caroline James, an eighteen-year-old liberal-minded she-wolf, is devastated when her alpha boyfriend, Noah Frost, leaves her for his destined mate. Determined to protect herself from more heartache, Carrie vowed never to love again and unexpectedly meets Jesse Morris, her fated mate, on the same night. Fueled by her pain, she devises a plan to use Jesse to make Noah jealous and win him back. But as Carrie spends time with the kind and much older Jesse, her resolve starts to waver. Jesse's unwavering love and loyalty break through her defenses, making her question her decision. Torn between her original intentions and her growing feelings for Jesse, Carrie faces a difficult choice. Will she hold onto her past or embrace a new chance at love?

Jennifer Lockwood and Greg Davenport thought they would be together forever. Breakups and differences in hobbies couldn't separate them. But then came the phone and text that put an end to all that dreaming. He decided to go on a journey that she couldn't follow him on. Meanwhile, she ended up with her original plan of going to law school. Everything goes well for her until a devastating call leaves her shattered. Now she's left deciding. Deciding about her future, about what to say to the man in the bed in front of her, deciding whether she can love. While he falls in love with her, she's left with the memories of everything that happened before. Can she return to that life where her heart got broken, or is she forced to walk away and break his?

"Humans are only good for the table." That is how the immortal werewolf beasts see humans, as nothing more than food. For decades, mortals have been sold to werewolf packs, a gruesome practice that remains unbroken. In their savage beast forms, werewolves devour humans to increase their power. This horrifying ritual is one of their most feared and ancient traditions. Among the countless victims is a young nameless woman, enslaved by a wealthy and ruthless family. When she turns twenty, her bitter fate finally arrives. Her cruel master decides to sell her off to one of the most powerful werewolf packs as a sacrificial offering for their ritual. Four Alpha half-brothers await her, devastatingly handsome, wild, and irresistibly dangerous. These sexy hungry beasts are ready to devour her. ~~~~♡~~~~~ Original book owned by Sasha B. Welcome to my Dark Fantasies!

After his sister is brutally attacked and crippled investigating the rape of a thirteen-year-old, Richard Baimbridge rushes back to his hometown of Wilmington, NC, to assist in her recovery only to come face to face with his tormented past and a dark family secret. Serving as his sister's legs, he fights to stay above the flood of childhood trauma as he is drawn into the dark underside of this quiet coastal community where he becomes the primary suspect in the murders of Wilmington's young girls in this riveting suspense thriller that explores the special bond between a brother and sister. More than 500,000 copies sold worldwide. "Bill Benners is a fresh and welcomed new voice in crime fiction. My Sister's Keeper is a compelling and original psychological thriller. Awesome, powder-keg suspense!" --Andrew McAleer, Crimestalker Casebook/crimestalkers.com

On Valentine's Day, I set up a candlelit dinner and waited. At 9 PM, my husband, Alfred Johnston, finally texted. [Something came up at work. Don't wait for me.] Then I saw her post. [On a business trip with the CEO for Valentine's Day. Every hotel is fully booked—awkward...] Vivian Bianca, his secretary. Attached was a photo of a guy in a bathrobe, standing by a floor-to-ceiling window. The comments were all 'ooh, CEO's so hot and girl, you're in for a night.' Vivian? Just dropped a smug emoji. So that's what "something came up" meant—a romantic getaway with his secretary. I screenshotted it, posted it on my own feed, and added a smiling emoji. A second later, Alfred called, fuming. "Vivian was joking! Why are you so petty? She's young, not as calculating as you!" I didn't let him finish. "Then let's get a divorce. That way, I won't have to care when you screw around and catch something."

Elijah was force to marry a family business partner for the sake of connection, greed and wealth to empower their clan. She has no scape, she doesn't have any choice for she is the only maiden among her family members. Wala siyang kayang gawin kundi ang pikit mata na pumayag sa kasal habang nag sisilakbo ng pagtutol ang kanyang puso. Taimtim na nanalangin ng gumuhit ang kidlat sa kalangitan as the heavy rain pour in the whole place the car that she was in intentionally fell in the cliff leaving a goodbye crush of sound. At sa kanyang muling pag mulat ay isa na siyang asawa ng isang Alfaro na anak ng isang Governadorcillio sa panahong 1800's. Will she able to find peace in the place where she is not belong from the very beginning? Genre: Historical Fiction Status: On-going Date started: Nov. 02 (wed.) 2022 Time:11:44 pm Photo are not mine credit to the rightful owner © Plagiarism is a crime.

My wife’s new assistant recently celebrated his birthday, and she splurged on a villa as a gift to him. On the day he moved in, the assistant, Zachary Shaw, bragged on Instagram with a post and captioned: [Bagged myself a sugar mommy, just FYI.] My wife, Ivy Bennett, commented on the post: [Happy birthday, my dear Zacky! 🫰] The photo was Zachary wrapping his arm around my wife’s slender waist, looking incredibly intimate. The work group chat blew up at once. Everyone expressed their envy toward Zachary, singing his praises for being so promising at such a young age. Then, my childhood friend, Autumn Sinclair, tagged me in the group chat and teased, [Love is a blinding green light. Your wife’s cheating on you so hard it glows. Congrats, Julian!] I smiled wryly and stubbed out my cigarette. Slowly, I typed my reply, [Want a house, Autumn? I’ll get you one too, better than her gift to him.]

My husband, Hank, is dead.  On our wedding anniversary, he ventured out in the pouring rain to buy me a cake, only to be hit by a truck. His body was badly mangled in the crash.  My sister-in-law, Lyra, called me a killer, claiming that I did not deserve Hank’s inheritance.  My mother-in-law, Judy, kicked me out of the house.  Overwhelmed by grief and guilt, I often wondered if he would still be alive had I stopped him that day. Eventually, emotions gripped me, and I was diagnosed with cancer.  Judy came to visit me on my deathbed. “You’re an idiot to believe everything!”  She threw a family photo in my face.  The shock and anger were more than I could handle, and I breathed my last.  It turned out that Hank was never dead. He had a child with his old flame.  When I opened my eyes once more, I returned to the day my husband faked his death.

I've been married to Elliot Graves, the mafia drug lord in NYC, for the past eight years. But today—on our wedding anniversary—I received a photo of him with my best friend, Lila, celebrating as if they were the ones married. And in her arms was my son, Owen. I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply. “How perfect.” Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway. “Why do you always have to be so bitchy to Lila?” Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.” I didn’t flinch. I simply walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d long prepared, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality. “Alright,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s all my fault. Now, can I go?”