Novelas y relatos de Scarlett O'hara Gone With The Wind

Christian rushed home to find the place empty. Everything appeared to be in place, but something felt off. At last, the reason for his unrest dawned on him. His photos with Tabitha, their gift exchanges, and their shared handicrafts, along with all their history, had been cleared away. Thrown into a panic, Christian summoned the maid. “Where are my things with Tabitha? Who gave you permission to put them away? Put them back out now!” The maid answered hesitantly, “Mr. Loader, Miss Bray removed them. She… burned the items in the back garden. She stopped us from stepping in.”

“Why are you asking? Marriage never stopped us before.” Months ago, that would’ve been enough to fill my night. She’d been a reliable distraction. Today, she barely registered. My attention was elsewhere — pinned to the woman who had just entered the room in quiet, catastrophic glory Christ. Scarlett Bennett was the most dazzling thing I'd ever laid eyes on. Her brown hair was swept into a loose bun, a few rebellious strands framing her face. Her makeup was deceptively simple, lips brushed in soft peach. She spotted someone from her team and they exchanged words before she continued her damning walk into the room. The pale olive silk gown from Émile skimmed her body, catching the light with

I saw as I start driving to the pack house. As I pull up and park in front of the pack house, my dick gets hard all over again, as I step out of my car and see Scarlett waiting outside the packhouse, leaning against the railing of the porch. Her long, chocolate brown hair is in loose waves down her back and I can see her bright green eyes from here. Her curves look perfect in a red dress that wraps around her body, showcasing her cleavage as it ties at the waist. Her legs, perfectly toned from all her time training and sparring, look they need to be wrapped around me as she stands in a pair of black stiletto heels. Before she has a chance to move even an inch, I’m out of my car and on the po

Five years of wealth and confidence had transformed my wardrobe from secondhand scraps to designer perfection. I pulled out a black evening gown—Valentino, with intricate beadwork that caught the light like stars. It was gorgeous, powerful, and cost more than the Blackwoods probably made in a year. Perfect. My reflection in the full-length mirror still surprised me sometimes. Gone was the scrawny, broken girl with dull hair and frightened eyes. In her place stood a woman with curves in all the right places, glossy dark hair that fell in waves past my shoulders, and golden eyes that held secrets.

It came from my connection to Everett Robinson. We had bribed the original scriptwriter to smooth things over. But now the author herself was here. And then— The private room’s door swung open. All eyes turned. Scarlett’s POV I stepped in, calm and poised, wearing a sleek black dress that hugged just enough and flawless makeup that took Eleanor thirty minutes to achieve. Behind me, Eleanor entered quietly, nodding to Wyatt. Uncle Robart stood up immediately, smiling as he came over. “There you are. I was just telling them about you.”

Back then, Joachim told her, "I'm not like them. I'll only love you forever." As it turned out, he was exactly like them. He was just as stinky and rotten as his friends. It had only been a matter of time. Scarlett chuckled and made her way down the stairs quietly. … Scarlett had come from a poor village in the mountains. Her mother, Darla Meyer, had been sold into the village. As Darla was unable to give birth to a boy, Doug had made sure that both Darla's and Scarlett's lives were made a living hell. He often beat them up.

After the gathering ended, I stood at the entrance as usual to see my colleagues off while waiting for Taylor Kennedy to pull out from the parking lot. When a car sprayed with bright pink paint stopped in front of me, I was somewhat confused. The window rolled down, revealing Yvonne Carter sitting comfortably in the front passenger seat. She smiled sweetly and said, "Faith, I get carsick in the back. You won't mind, would you?" I looked down as I recalled the time I'd pleaded with Taylor to hang the little charm I'd crocheted by hand in his car.

His steps were measured, but there was something under the surface — something pressing. “What is it?” I asked softly, not looking up from River. He paused for a second. “There’s something I need to tell you.” The pit in my stomach returned before he even said it. I lifted my eyes to meet his. He hesitated. “Scarlett’s gone.” At first, I didn’t understand. “Gone?” “She ran. Just after River came to you. No one noticed for a while. The guards were distracted. They think she slipped out through the east side. Tried to make it into the woods.”

Lisa Jones had never expected how badly her long-distance relationship would go, when James Sachs loved her more than anyone else. As the chief of a hospital, he was a very busy man, but he had flown abroad countless times and clocking over 10,000 hours in travel for her. They could only meet briefly each time. She still remembered in that early winter, he had held her in the snow, saying that he found it all worth it. She received numerous gifts from him, ranging from thousand-word love letters to million-dollar necklaces bought from auctions. If it were just to make her smile, he would pluck the stars from the sky. That love that seeped into their very essence hadn't changed for thre

I made a silent resolve to make sure he dreaded every second we spent together. My legs felt heavy. One of the maids, a kind-faced woman with graying hair, stepped forward with a towel and a soft robe. I recognized her after a while. She was the head of staff back when I was young. Actually, a lot of the maids lined up were familiar. Christian didn't fire them. "Miss Scarlett," Mrs. Gable said softly, her eyes full of sympathy as she took in my torn clothes and blood-stained skin. "Welcome back. We have a hot bath prepared for you upstairs."