Submission Is Not My Style Novels & Stories

I say blandly. "Then repeat what I just said." I tilt my head, offering a slow, deliberate smile. "I’ve heard it all before, a thousand times." I pause for dramatic effect, watching as the room collectively holds its breath. "But let me make one thing clear." My eyes gleam with defiance. "I don’t care about your lectures. I. Don’t. Submit. I wasn’t born to bow to anyone." The hall falls into stunned silence. Then, whispers. Gasps. Shocked murmurs spreading like wildfire.

But I couldn't stay here anymore and I hoped that they could understand that if they can see me. I pulled out some pen and paper. 'Dear Adam, I can't pretend to not care anymore, I'm hurt and angry and I miss our parents so much but you're not the brother I once looked up to. I'm finally leaving... I've had enough of everything that's happened. Of you all treating me worse then shit. This is what you wanted anyway, right? For me to leave? Either way, it's what I wish so it's what I'm going to do. Even after everything, I hope you have a wonderful life, meet your mate and live a long happy life together.

There was something unspoken between the two that made me anxious. “So,” I started, not liking the silence, “I guessed you dropped off your submission just now.” Ari scoffed before flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I turned that in a week ago. Early bird gets the worm right?” “Wait, I could’ve turned it in earlier?” I asked, feeling the nerves in the pit of my stomach. I started to shift my feet before Gabe gave me a gentle squeeze, pulling me back against him. A low growl could be heard and I wasn’t sure who it was from.

They express their gratitude for my participation and mention that they received Diane’s work on time. But what stops me cold is the reason they give for rejecting mine: they never received my submission. “What?” I whisper, my voice sounding hollow in the quiet of my room. My mind races as I reread the email, hoping that I’ve somehow misinterpreted it. But the words don’t change. They never received my submission. I know that’s impossible. I handed the USB to Diane myself. She offered to give it to the Rita. How could it not have been turned in? My insides tighten as I try to run the numbers on what to do exactly.

"Professor Langford said the entry came in at midnight on Sunday. Did you hear how he described the market model? He said it was institutional-grade. People are saying the department head wants to introduce them to venture capital partners." "Who submits a winning portfolio and just walks away from a fellowship?" the other guy scoffed, slinging his leather bag over his shoulder. "It's weird. It's like there's some mystery ghost running around the business building." My hand froze around the neck of a plastic water bottle. A cold, heavy rock dropped straight into my stomach. My breath caught in my throat, burning my chest. My submission. I had submitted that market model two weeks ago from a

So, your comments and gems will be highly appreciated. Thanks:)

My thighs pressed together on instinct, but it was already too late. A slick rush of wetness flooded my panties, hot and sudden, soaking the delicate lace until it clung to my swollen fold. My clit pulsed hard, as if his voice had whispered the command straight against my skin. God. I was dripping. Just from an email. Just from the knowledge that the most explicit thing I’d ever written...forty-three pages of raw, shameless fantasy...was now sitting in his inbox. I had submitted the wrong file. On Monday night I’d been running on cold coffee and three hours of sleep, watching a course submission portal count down the last two minutes before the deadline.

The essay sounded more honest because it wasn't trying to prove anything to anyone. I told him one sentence was too long. He changed it. Then he sat there staring at the screen. The submit button waited. I went back to my notes. Several minutes passed. I heard the click. I looked up. Luca hadn't moved. The page refreshed. For a second, neither of us said anything. Then the confirmation appeared. Application submitted. Luca stared at the words like they belonged to someone else. His face didn't change much, but I could see the release in him. Not relief exactly. More like the moment after jumping from somewhere high when your body hasn't decided whether to celebrate or panic.

It's not a typo error. I might go on hiatus

I have already posted the first 3 chapters and will be contining to post 3 chapters a week, one each on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. The only reason there is more beyond Rite of Submission is because of all of you. (and my beta readers who practically screamed at me that there had to be more). I hope to see all your wonderful comments and notes there. If you haven't noticed yet, I do actually look through and read your comments, even the ones correcting my grammar. And that brings me to a very special thank you to the unofficial editors: Cjallen24, George Calloni, Mylo, Noelle Mounce, SpaceKonijn and the MVP: Sacha De Nijs!