Sometimes The Snow Comes Down In June Lyrics

Wixon Foltajer was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Ngunit dahil sa labanang yaman ng kanyang mga magulang at ng angkang Monato ay napunta siya sa isang mahirap na mag-asawa. Sa paglipas ng panahon ay nakilala niya ang mayamang babae na si Umica Sares at sila ay nagpakasal. Kasal man ay lage naman siyang ininsulto at minamaliit ng mayayaman nitong kamag-anak. Hanggang sa siya ay biglang nawala dahilan upang inakala ng lahat na patay na siya. Lumipas ang mga taon at muli siyang nagbalik bilang isang makapangyarihan na tao. Isang walang kinatatakutan na lider ng kanilang makapangyarihang angkan, na nagtatago sa dati niyang mahirap na buhay noon.

Aire was a survivor—until the person she trusted most turned her into a memory. Betrayed and left for dead in the cold shadows of the city’s underworld, Aire’s story should have ended there. Instead, she wakes up years later in a world that has moved on without her. With her memories returning in jagged, painful flashes, Aire realizes she’s been given the ultimate second chance. But the streets are meaner now, and her killer, Trevon, is sitting on the throne she helped him build. To take him down, she’ll have to navigate a landscape of shadows and secrets, catching the eye of Dee—a hood billionaire whose heart is as cold as the diamond district he runs. Dee doesn't do love, and Aire doesn't do trust. But as their worlds collide, they realize that in a city built on lies, their fire might be the only thing that's real. This time, Aire isn’t just playing the game—she’s rewriting the rules.

Repeatedly oppressed, trod upon, and killed. Claude felt like same about his wife's relatives. They even humiliated him. But then it never ended, Claude learned of his mother-in-law's plans of having him killed. She wants him dead. Claude came up with a plan. With the aid of his friend, he will pretend to be dead in order to exact the retribution he desires. He carried out the plan on the day of Claude's parent-in-law's anniversary. That very same day, he died. Will Claude exact the retribution he desires? Or... He will only end up letting the people oppressed him get away with their sin?

Selene a brave female werewolf having a birthmark from an Alpha bloodline and the last of her kind, who never knew of her true identity but worked as a maid with Mr Orion a ruthless alpha werewolf who wasn't interested in finding a mate but kept countless lovers, He later happened to be Selene's mate, a twist of fate. _____ " Selene, your birthmark... is a sign of your destiny. It's only given to the children of an Alpha werewolf blood" She smiled again, her eyes glinting with a knowing light." Ah.. But that's where you're wrong Selene. you'd see what you're truly capable of and when you do, you'll join us as of our own" I felt a shiver run down my spine as she straightened up, her eyes never leaving mine. what did she mean? What was I capable of? And what did she mean by "join us"? I was human, not a werewolf. But the mark on my arm seemed to be pulsing with a strange energy, as if it was trying to tell me something.

Not long after getting married to my husband, he says he wants to teach me how to scuba dive. My leg cramps when I'm practicing alone in the deep sea. However, my husband, a swimming instructor, chooses to save his unattainable love—she's jumped into the sea to commit suicide. I don't ask him for help. Instead, I allow myself to slowly sink. In my past life, I stopped my husband from leaving. He saved me with gnashed teeth and allowed his first love, Millie Quirke, to drown. By the time he went to save her, she'd already disappeared in the water. He comforted me and told me it was okay, that he was glad he'd saved me. However, one night, he brought me back to the seaside. Just as I let my guard down, he grabbed my neck and plunged my face into the water. Then, he dragged me out before I could suffocate. "You were just cramping—it would've passed! But Millie got dragged away by the current because of you! You can remain in the ocean with her!" When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day I was scuba diving.

At ten years old, I watched my mom jump to her death in a rainstorm. That same night, my dad brought home a glamorous woman and her nine-year-old daughter. I had feared and hated rainy days since then. My husband once helped me face that childhood trauma, staying by my side through every storm and promising, "Don't worry, Lena, you'll never face your fears alone." But when I refused to pick up his new assistant, he abandoned me on a highway in pouring rain, saying, "Marie is your sister, and you left her out there? Walk home!" That night, the rain never stopped, and I walked thirteen hours along a dark, endless road. That was when I decided I was done with him.

For eight years, I was the ghost in Lorenzo Valenti's empire. By day, I was his executive assistant, the engine of his criminal enterprise. By night, I was the most submissive bird in his gilded cage, and the nameless body in his bed. I loved him with a devotion that bordered on madness, a foolish flame I'd nurtured since I was a scholarship student pulled into his orbit. I believed my quiet love could one day melt the ice around his heart. I was wrong. The day his unforgettable first love, Isabella, returned, the man I knew vanished. The rare smiles once reserved for me were now all for her. My presence by his side was erased, replaced by hers. Even when she framed me, he believed her without hesitation. He chose her, again and again. I submitted my resignation. He signed it without looking. He thought I'd crawl back, broken and begging. He was wrong. While he was busy playing house with his "cuore mio", I was quietly packing away my life, preparing to vanish from his world forever.

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

Tristan is an alpha, strong and silent, with control over everything around him, he only screws omegas, everyone knows that, he is a perfectionist, everyone knows that, Dylan Harper is the only assistant he tolerates, everyone knows that, but what everyone doesn’t know is Tristan is the Alpha under Dylan’s sheets. Dylan is just a beta, kind and invisible. When they’re forced together by work, tension builds between them, but Dylan knows his place. Alphas don’t look at betas like him. There’s no room for dreams or hope. But after waking up one day with an Alpha under his sheets, Dylan starts to wonder if he’s been wrong about everything. Will he remain just a shadow to Tristian, or is there more to his story? ••• Tristan’s breath was steady, but I could feel the tension in the air between us. I stood too close. My fingers brushed against his arm, just enough to make the heat between us undeniable. “Don’t…” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine. But I didn’t move away. I couldn’t. His presence was too much, too magnetic. My body hummed with a hunger I didn’t know how to quiet. His eyes locked with mine, intense, searching, like he knew what I was feeling before I did. “You’re too close,” he whispered. I stayed silent, caught between the urge to pull away and the need to be closer. His breath, warm on my skin, made it harder to think. “Do you intend to trigger your heat again, my pretty little thing?” He breathed out and I could have climaxed right there and then.

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."