Round Folding Dining Table Novels & Stories

Natash·Yael's teenage years were marked by academic neglect and a wasted life, primarily due to her mother's passing and her stepmother's jealousy. She even resorted to smoking and pretending to be tough at bars. However, the turning point in Natash·Yael's life came when she encountered Jaclyn·Dills by chance. Jaclyn·Dills' words of wisdom awakened her and inspired her to return to school. As time went on, Jaclyn·Dills was set up for an arranged marriage by her father, and Natash·Yael's father introduced her to Jaclyn·Dills in an attempt to gain favor with Jaclyn·Dills' social circle. However, this blind date led to an unexpected outcome because Jaclyn·Dills was deeply drawn to Natash·Yael. This set the stage for a love story filled with misunderstandings and turmoil. Natash·Yael mistakenly believed that Jaclyn·Dills didn't love her and continued her reckless lifestyle, eventually leading to her pregnancy. In turn, Jaclyn·Dills became cold and volatile due to these misunderstandings. A series of misunderstandings and conflicts eventually led to their separation, with Natash·Yael leaving with her child. However, once Jaclyn·Dills realized the truth of the situation, he was determined to win her back. But the story is far from over, as Jaclyn·Dills' business trip triggers a new round of misunderstandings, making this tumultuous love story even more intricate. Now, he is determined to reunite with his beloved at any cost.

Synopsis He close the expanse between us and I won't lie I close my eyes for a bit because I don't know how it got so hot and steamy between us. His lips touch my jaw, making me tremble. He continues a line of kisses along my jawline and I nod. I know he is right, I have no idea what this is. As his lips touch the spot just below my ear I moan and he does it again, this time sucking the skin. That electricity between us appears again, this time more wild than ever before. Why is this always happening with him? I shut my mind off from my thoughts and wrap my arms around his neck to steady myself. he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip and in a swift he crash his lips with me and deepen it immediately and all sexual attachment aroused and I felt unsatisfied. His lips move in sync with mine as he eat out my lower lips and I moan out unconsciously. He palm my ass cheek in his hand. He raise me up and I wrap my leg round his torso with no one ready to pull back. He kiss me passionately and it felt like he had always wanted to do this for so long because he poured all his love into it.

The day before the final round of Beta selection, I was poisoned with wolfsbane and locked inside my burning house. The fire spread too fast, and my weakened state prevented me from shifting. My wolf, Emma, screamed in my mind, but I couldn't escape. I clawed at the door as the flames seared my skin. When I was rescued, my body was covered in burns, my skin raw and torn. Outside the operating room, I heard my mother sobbing, repeating, “It’s my fault... I locked the door by accident... I never meant to...” Alpha David, my mate, called for every healer to restore me, but his cold words to my mother were chilling: “If Serina wasn’t so vain and selfish, I wouldn’t have had to do this. Becky was fragile, struggling with depression, yet Serina flaunted her success in front of her. This is what Serina owes her.” David’s actions were meant to pave the way for Becky to become Beta, but I was the one who suffered. He claimed to be treating me well, but destroying my health and future didn’t feel like care. I pressed my hand to my bandaged chest, the numbness spreading. Emma growled inside me, weakened by the wolfsbane. I no longer wanted the love of the mother who betrayed me or the mate who was supposed to protect me. I wanted nothing from them anymore.

My father-in-law, Noah Quinlan, and I go on a vacation together. After checking into the hotel, we decide to swim around in the hotel's swimming pool. But a well-dressed man shows his disdain toward us outright while pinching his nose. "This is a high-class hotel! Ugh, why are there all sorts of people here? Don't tell me you two secretly snuck in just to use the pool! "I'm really scared of catching any infectious diseases just by sharing the same pool as you!" That man's words instantly spoil the mood for Noah and me. I reply coldly, "The hotel's swimming pool is meant for public use. Anyone who stays in the hotel has the right to use it. If you can't accept that fact, you might as well have one built at your home." The man is so angry that his brows are all scrunched up. He retorts furiously, "How dare you talk to me like that! Don't you know that my wife is the owner of this hotel? The fanciest suite here belongs to me all year round! "I order you to get lost right now! What if your poorness dirties the pool water? How disgusting!" Noah and I exchange looks immediately, soon noticing the coldness in each other's eyes. My wife, Zara Quinlan, is the one owning this hotel. Since when has she become another man's wife?

"Stop," he said huskily. "Turn around." Something in his voice made her obey. His was a voice used to commanding, used to getting him his own way. Usually she hated being spoken to that way, but not tonight. Tonight she wanted to obey every command he gave to bring the evening to its logical, inevitable and very satisfying conclusion. She turned, slowly, giving him full view of her butt and the cotton thong slicing her cheeks in half. Aware of his black eyes on her, she did something she'd never done for any man. She swayed to a rhythm in her head. With her back facing him, Abbey ran her hands down her waist, round her gyrating hips and placed one on each cheek. She let them explore across her skin, enjoying the way she felt and knowing he wanted to do the same. She glanced over her shoulder, cheekily giving him a view of her breasts and behind at the same time. His face was distorted with desire as he stood, mesmerized. She turned to face him fully. "I want you," he whispered. ………………………………………………. A cheating husband. A hidden camera. A desperate woman in too little clothing. Abbey thinks she’s prepared to seduce Damien Vane for a paycheck—until his hands, his voice, and his body turn the assignment into something wickedly irresistible. One night was supposed to fix her life… not set it on fire.

My boyfriend passed away from illness. Before he died, he asked me to look after his only younger brother—Callum Ressler. I put Callum through college, and helped him build his company from the ground up. Then one night, after a round of drinking at some work function, he ended up in bed with me. While I wrestled with what we were to each other, I noticed something on his office desk: a photo of me, framed neatly beside an engagement ring. My heart stirred. I pushed open the lounge door, ready to finally talk about us. But just as the door creaked open, a white camisole fell at my feet. I froze. Callum pulled the covers tightly around a shocked female assistant. "Diana, ever heard of knocking?" he snapped. Face pale, limbs suddenly uncoordinated, I started backing out. But the assistant's timid voice stopped me. "Diana… could you hand me my clothes?" I ignored the hostility behind her eyes, grabbed the garment, tossed it onto the bed, and left in a hurry. Once I stepped outside the company building, Callum called. "Diana, you should really stop barging into my room like that." I laughed and agreed. From that moment on, I never stepped into his world again.

Every anniversary, Mark had some twisted surprise for me. Our tenth? He strutted into the ballroom holding hands with an escort wearing straight up lingerie. "Jenna, she's cold. Hand over your dress." Then, like that wasn't sick enough: "And the lingerie. She likes your vibe." I clutched my collar, trying to keep it together. He didn't care—just yanked it open. "Cut the act. Your dad sold you to me, remember? That slutty look you used to give me—I still see it." Everyone stared, waiting for me to break. So I did the one thing I could. "I want a divorce." Again. Mark just laughed and chucked a stack of photos on the table—me, covered in marks, curled in bed, a total mess. "You say that every year. And every year, you're back in my bed. Think your mom keeps that hospital spot if these get out?"

My husband, Daniel Thompson, looked down on me. I was just a farmer's daughter in his eyes, and he never loved the son I gave birth to. It wasn’t until our baby turned 100 days old that he held him for the first time. Then, one day, his first love, Claire Matthews, came back to the city. That night at dinner, Daniel, who was always cold and distant, finally smiled. He even reached across the table and placed a piece of meat on Noah’s plate. Noah beamed all evening, clutching onto that tiny gesture like it was a treasure. Just before bed, he whispered to me, "Mom, do you think he likes me now… even just a little?" I wrapped him in my arms, tears blurring my vision as I gently shook my head. "No, sweetheart. It’s because the woman he truly loves is back. It’s time for us to go."

My roommates booked a New Year's Eve light show table—five hundred per person—and started urging me in the group chat to transfer the money. I quietly sent a screenshot of my account balance. "You guys go ahead," I wrote. "I haven't even scraped together my tuition yet." They replied with a string of mocking "haha"s. Our dorm leader, Giselle Murdoch, even posted on her social media with the caption: [The first step to crossing class boundaries is distancing yourself from people who kill the mood.] Just after midnight, they sent me a photo from the light show and said, "Too bad you're not here." I frowned, confused, when my counselor's call cut in—her voice tight with urgency. "Did you invite your roommates to the light show? The organizers said they never even checked in! They're missing!"

I spent three hundred dollars on a brand-new phone for my mother, only for her to start saying that the smartphone was stealing her money and that I had personally siphoned off her bank balance. I could never win the argument. So I offered to just reimburse whatever “loss” she imagined. She got even more unhappy. She slapped a stack of receipts on the table and demanded I pay up. “Where did you buy this piece of junk? It’s a ticking time bomb. Give me my money back!” Most of the receipts were for men’s sneakers and athletic wear; the rest were household basics like brooms and hangers. I felt a wave of suffocating frustration. Since when was shopping free? Why was I expected to pay for her? I bought her a new phone, and I just became the ATM? “Fine. If you hate it that much, I’m taking it back to the store.” But she would not let go.