Spongebob Boaters License Novels & Stories

I paid Curtis Robinett 200 thousand dollars a month to be a standby blood donor. My fiancée, Eden May, thought it was a waste of money. So she reassigned him to work part-time as her personal assistant instead. When Curtis accidentally submitted my marriage license appointment as a divorce filing for the 99th time, I kicked open Eden's office door. She didn't even look up. "We're in no rush to get married anyway," she said calmly. "Curtis is just careless. That's how he's always been." Later, in the emergency room, I called Eden while doctors rushed around me, my throat shredded from yelling. "Where's my emergency medical kit?" I rasped. "What did you do with it?" Curtis answered instead, his voice warm and smug. "You mean the expensive leather bag you kept in the cabinet? I swapped it out for a large party snack box. It holds everything just fine, and honestly, it looks a lot more cheerful. "Ms. May's brother and sister-in-law are both career soldiers. Your bag didn't really match that image, so I thought this would be more appropriate." My vision dimmed. My hands shook as I told Curtis to come donate blood. Eden laughed softly and cut in, "Stop pretending you're anemic just to get attention. If you're actually sick, deal with it. You're at the hospital; I think the doctors are fully capable of keeping you alive. Curtis is afraid of needles. He's not coming." Then, she hung up. She didn't appear until the surgical lights finally went dark. "Curtis had me bring you chocolate milk," she said. "It's good for recovery. It's not that he didn't want to help. He just faints at the sight of blood." She placed a settlement waiver on my bed. "I was the one who told him not to come. That 200-thousand-dollar monthly salary is his pay as my assistant. It has nothing to do with you. You didn't have to call the police for that. Sign this, and I'll go get the marriage license with you." I thought of what I had just seen in the operating room. Eden's brother, Harvey May, was bleeding out on the operating table, waiting for a lifesaving drug that never came. In the final moments of surgery, he could do nothing but lie there and die. I looked at her and said evenly, "You're the immediate family. It's not my place to sign that."

Alexandra Westwood is half-human without a wolf and barely tolerated in the shifter region. Loving an Alpha was her first mistake. Believing he would choose her in her wolfless state was her second. Dumped, brutally humiliated, and stripped of protection, Alexandra becomes prey in a world ruled by power and rank. When her bully is given license to kill her, her life becomes a living hell. Then a pair of dangerous eyes take notice of her. He’s older, powerful, sexy, and so forbidden. And he is the last Alpha she should ever want. He shouldn’t want her. She shouldn’t trust him. But fate has other plans. The bond stirring between them refuses to be ignored. Claiming her means defying the sacred laws of their world. This Alpha isn’t just risking his throne… he’s willing to burn the world for her. With enemies circling and a wolf that refuses to show up, Alexandra must survive long enough to uncover the truth about who she really is. Will Alexandra survive, or with the spectres of her past, raise their ugly heads and burn the buds of a blooming romance?

Financial reporter Zoey, known for her pride and icy beauty, and with a formidable business acumen, finds herself at the center of a scandal on the very day she and financial tycoon Barlen are to get their marriage license. An insider exposes her, claiming that she loves only Barlen's wealth and that their marriage is merely a product of her exquisite acting skills. Unaware of the brewing storm, Zoey and Barlen are in the midst of obtaining their license when the news breaks. Barlen, upon reading the revelations, 'borrows' Zoey's phone and promptly turns it off, facing the onslaught of public opinion with firm evidence in hand. Surrounded by media reporters, Barlen is bombarded with questions about his perspective on the scandal. He deliberately twists the narrative: "My wife, she doesn't just love my money. Could she possibly love someone else's?" The reporters press on, clarifying their query: "Do you mean she only loves money, not you as a person?" Barlen remains composed: "She loves my money, and I love her as a person. Is there a problem with that?" In a single sentence: He redeems her with all his love and warmth. How could I not be enamored with someone like you?

I help my students gain admission to top state art academies, yet my boss, Sebastian Emerson, withholds every cent of the pay I earned from 24 consecutive days of overtime. When I confront him in anger, he accuses me of stealing 120 thousand dollars in training fees from the students. "Honestly, being poor is no excuse for being shady. And having disabled parents doesn't give you the right to steal. "You've got two days to pay it back! Otherwise, I'll make sure you spend a few nights in jail, and I'll even inform your parents!" When a student calls, he snatches the phone and starts screaming, "There's no money! All your tuition went into buying your art supplies! If you've got a problem, go ahead and sue me, brat!" Meanwhile, Jayla Buckley, who is curled up in his arms, keeps placing order after order of Chaennal haute couture without the slightest hesitation. Watching the two of them colluding so shamelessly, I grip my attorney license in my pocket until my knuckles ache. Take it to court? Litigation? That's my arena. And I'll make sure both of them end up exactly where they belong—behind bars.

As I walk out of the emergency room, a woman rushes over to me. "You're a doctor, right? My son scraped his knee. Hurry up and come treat him!" I am about to explain, but she glares at me and questions indignantly, "Isn't a doctor supposed to save people? You have time to slack off, but you have no time to treat my son's wound. Is that it?" She grabs my collar and drags me toward the ward. I try to explain, "Ma'am, I’m not—" But she doesn't listen at all and slaps me across the face. "Not what? Are you blind? Can't you see my son is bleeding? Instead of helping my son, you treat those poor nobodies! If you keep delaying my son's treatment, I won't let you off! "Get on your knees and apologize to him right now! Otherwise, I'll file a complaint and have your license revoked!" I endure the sharp pain and struggle to lift my head. In my five years of practicing medicine, this is the first time I have ever been complained about by a living person. "It's not that I won't treat him. I am a forensic pathologist..."

The seventh time Claire Fisher bailed on our marriage license appointment, I finally cut her out of my life—for good. From then on, if she was at a party, I wasn't. When she was scheduled to perform at our college's anniversary celebration, I made sure to leave early. The moment my company announced a collaboration with hers, I resigned without a second thought. Even on Christmas Eve, when she showed up at my parents' house with gifts, I slipped out with a half-hearted excuse about "visiting a friend." I blocked her number. Deleted her from my contacts. Burned every bridge and salted the earth behind me. No calls. No texts. No social media. I didn't reach out. She couldn't reach me. Simple as that. For the better part of my life, I was hopelessly in love with her—waiting on her, caring for her, putting her first in every way that mattered. I gave her all of me without ever holding back. But after the seventh time she left me sitting alone at the City Hall, something inside me broke. I was done. If that meant spending the rest of my life alone, so be it. Better that than sitting in an empty apartment, listening to the silence, holding on to hope for someone who never planned to show up.

My girlfriend and I had agreed that she would come home with me for Thanksgiving to meet my parents. However, the night before the trip, she canceled on me again. My older cousin, who had never liked me, immediately started throwing sarcastic comments my way. “Five years together and she still hasn’t met your family? Maybe she never took you seriously in the first place. And honestly, a man shouldn’t think too highly of himself. You might end up raising someone else’s kid without even knowing it,” he said. I ignored him and stepped outside to get some air, but then I found that the car parked in front of the neighbor’s house looked strangely familiar. My heart skipped a beat. Could this be a surprise from my girlfriend? I was just about to call her when my cousin clicked his tongue and pointed at the car. “Still, you’ve gotta admit Liam Crossby really knows how to live. He brought home a gorgeous and successful girlfriend. You? You’ve spent your whole life losing to him.” My eyes locked onto the license plate, and my fingers froze. Then, I dialed a hidden number I hadn’t used in years. “Bring the guys. Trash the car.”

As soon as I got my driver's license, I immediately went to the hospital to have my corneas removed. In my previous life, on the first day of the semester, my boyfriend's childhood friend secretly took my car and drove three other students to a shopping mall near the college. She sped through red lights and killed a pregnant woman and an elderly person. However, the three students testified that I was the one who ran those people over and then fled the scene. When the police arrested me, I desperately explained that it was her who was driving the car. However, she threw herself into my boyfriend's arms and said with great grievance, "Jade, I know you don't like me, but you can't frame me like that!" Fred took out the dashcam from my car. The video showed that I was the one driving the car, killing the people, and fleeing in a panic. "Instead of repenting, you're trying to push the blame onto someone else." After seeing this, the victim's family members were enraged and stabbed me 18 times. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before my boyfriend's childhood friend took my car.

Lizzie Lee married Nathan Hall, and there were rumors he had a woman he loved deeply for years. He had been the one to hold Lizzie’s hand and take her to city hall to file their marriage license, and he was the one who told her his old flame meant nothing to him anymore. After three years of marriage, she thought that as long as she stayed gentle and compliant, she could warm his heart. Until that day, for the sake of his old flame, Nathan robbed her father of his last chance to survive and even brought his mistress to his father’s funeral. Lizzie looked at him and said, “I’m done. I want a divorce.” After the divorce, everyone waited to see her become a joke. But not long after, she was revealed to be the internationally renowned painter “Rose,” the long-lost daughter of a powerful family, and the lead on a major national art project. Her talent was undeniable, and she gradually became a star he could never reach. The man who once couldn’t even be bothered to look at her knelt in regret. “Liz, I was wrong. Come back, alright? I’ll treat you and your child well.” Yet another arm wrapped around Lizzie’s slender waist, drawing her in as he brushed a kiss against her flushed ear, his voice low with quiet possession. “Who else could be worthy of you but me?”

After we were both reborn, my wife and I decided to part ways and live our own lives. She went to Newport with Klay Bernhard, the son of a wealthy family, while I went to study at a university in the capital. By leveraging her past life's experience, she helped her new boyfriend avoid investment risks and devise a brilliant business strategy. It didn't take long before she got everything she wanted in the past life. Meanwhile, I continued to focus on my studies and was content with living a mundane life. We met again at a class reunion years later. I saw her arm-in-arm with Klay. She was showing off the enormous diamond ring she wore. "It's been ten years, haven't you made anything of yourself?" All I did was smile and remain silent. That was until a wealthy businesswoman showed up late to the scene and threw herself into my arms. "You promised me we would go get our marriage license when I come back, you can't go back on your word!" At that moment, my wife from the past life, who was usually prideful, had a look of sheer disbelief in her eyes. It finally clicked for her that the reason I was willing to separate from her for so many years was not that I was stubborn. It was because we were through.