The Art Of Falling Apart

Un correspondant étranger nommé Harry arrivant brusquement dans la classe et aussi dans la vie de Rose. Shawn, le beau gosse du lycée va tout chambouler. Shawn ? Harry ? Rose devra faire un choix. Un choix de toute une vie.

On my fifth birthday with Zachary Murdock, I sit once again in front of a full table of cold food, just like every year before. Zachary had promised, as always, to spend the day with me. And, as always, he breaks that promise. This year, it's because his childhood sweetheart wanted to shoot a set of "artistic photos". She invited him and a few of his close buddies to be part of it. Without hesitation, he ditches me again and runs straight into her arms. At 11:00 pm, his childhood sweetheart posts a photo to her social media and sets it so that only I can see it. In the picture, four men are in nothing but black briefs and Windsor-knotted ties. They kneel around her while she is draped in sheer fabric like a goddess. The caption reads, "Some people beg for crumbs, but I own the entire bakery." I take a screenshot. Then, I send it to the girlfriends of all three of Zachary’s best buddies. If they all look down on me this much, let's hope they don't end up on their knees begging me someday.

Two Angels from different Realms were sent to the Earth's Universe on a Mission, One, sent by his Father and Grande Master to retrieve the Forged Excalibar from the Lines Gate of Earth. The other, sent by her Mother Keeper to guard the Lines Gate of Earth and protect the Forged Excalibar from leaving the Earth's realm. But would this two make their Masters proud when they'd found something they could possibly kill for? This book is purely a fantasy. Read and find out what happened between these two Angels from different Realms.

Adwith a cold-hearted CEO to the whole world. He is only soft and Loveable to his sister. The one who makes everyone plead in front of him on their knees can run behind his sister to feed her. The one who can make everyone beg for mercy can say sorry to his sister. He loves her too much. We can say she is his life. Aanya the girl who was pampered by her brother to the core where he can even bring anything on this earth within 5 minutes after she asked for it. She was a princess to him. In Front of him, she was crazy and still behaves like a kid whereas, to the outer world, she is a Xerox copy of Ishaan. Cold-hearted and reserved. She never mingles with anyone much. She doesn't have many best friends except for one girl. For her, the first priority is her brother. He is her best friend, father, mother, and caretaker. He is a guardian angel to her. What made Adwith hate his sister? Will they both patch up again? To know, come and read my story.

BOOK #2 MARINOS' MAYHEM SERIES A large, strong hand grabbed Jayce by the neck, slamming him face-first into the wall. A weight pressed against his back, pinning him in place, while a thick cock pressed against his ass. A thick, husky voice groaned into his ear. "You have three seconds to decide: be mine, or die with them?" "Please, please don't make me choose," Jayce pleaded, feeling his life flash before his eyes. "One. Two..." Jayce gritted his teeth when he felt a hand pulling his pants down, leaving his ass bare. "I can't be with you, Renato," he yelled, fighting for dominance. "My duty is to bring you down, not to fall for you." Renato grinned, biting down on his ear. "Nothing ever stops me from getting what I want, Sweetcheeks. So, what's it going to be?" * •—• * What do you get when you mix work, pleasure, and affection together? Jayce Beckett, desperately in need of the bonus pay to fund his nephew's surgery, took over an undercover task to bring down the most dangerous mafia organization in New York City. The task seemed easy, or so he thought. What would he do when his cover got blown and the only way to survive was to date the mafia boss who had eyes for him? He either had to fall in love or get buried by Renato Marino, the infamous mafia boss who was known for not giving anyone a second chance.

Back when I was 20, I supported a girlfriend. I paid for her education and even found the best doctors for her mother, who had cancer. The sweet, brilliant girl stayed with me for four years. However, my family went bankrupt after my parents died. I even injured my eyes and broke my legs. I watched her have a heart-to-heart talk with her childhood friend, tears in her eyes. I left without a word, and she never sought me out. Years later, I saw her again while picking up trash outside a hotel. She had become a wealthy CEO and was about to marry her childhood sweetheart. Her gaze at me was cold and indifferent. I bitterly asked, "Do you still hate me?" Yet, with tears streaming down her face, she replied, "Yes… I wish you were dead."

My family was the wealthiest in River City, with assets worth trillions. On my eighteenth birthday, my brother, Calvin Chester, gifted me an entire jewelry production line while my parents built a private museum and named it after me. The greatest hardship I’d ever faced? Learning how to spend my inheritance. Then I met Dario Darwin. For him, I cut ties with my family and helped him build his empire from scratch. But when I was three months pregnant, he demanded I drink on behalf of his assistant, Fran Fallon, a woman “slumming it” as an intern while secretly being the heiress to another fortune. “Stop pretending,” he sneered. “You’re not like Fran, raised in pampered luxury. You’re older, so act like it and take care of your juniors!” Then, to the clients leering around the table, “My wife’s just being dramatic. She can hold her liquor. Don’t hold back—pour her another!” Amid their jeers, he left with Fran, abandoning me to a room of drunken men. Years of sacrifice, only to be humiliated. I scheduled an abortion and called him. “We’re done.” Through the phone, Fran’s simpering voice chimed in, “It’s my fault that Clea is upset… I should quit and go home to my family’s billions.” “Ignore her. She’s faking it,” Dario cooed back. On the day Dario signed the divorce papers, my parents and Calvin came to take me home. Our marriage came to an end, but his tragedy was about to begin.

During lunch, an older female colleague asked me, "How old are you? Do you have a boyfriend? When are you planning to get married?" I shook my head. "Twenty-seven, no boyfriend, and no plans to get married." She was momentarily stunned. "What are you talking about? How can a woman not get married?" she asked. I smiled without responding. Realizing I wasn't joking, her expression darkened. "Did you work as a escort and get caught? Is that why no man wants you?"

I married a guy thirty-two years older than I am. Reason? Money. We got divorced, I got all his money and became the city's richest person. Just when my luck was starting to turn, I was hit with devastating news. My ex died. Drowned, they said. The cops think I'm the killer.

It was our wedding anniversary when my husband's high school sweetheart posted a sonogram picture on her social media, with her captioning a public thank-you to my husband: [Thank you to the man who's been there for me for ten years, and for giving me a son.] The room spun, and anger surged through me as I quickly commented: [So, you're proud of being a homewrecker?] Almost immediately, my husband called, his voice full of rage. "How can you think such disgusting things? All I did was help her with IVF, fulfilling her dream of becoming a single mom. "And by the way, Ruby only needed one try to get pregnant, while you’ve been through three rounds with nothing. Your body is useless!" Just three days ago, he told me he was going abroad for business—ignoring my calls and messages the entire time. I thought he was just busy. However, it turned out he was with her, attending her prenatal checkup. Half an hour later, Ruby posted again, showing off a table full of delicious food. [I got tired of French food, so Ash made me all my favorite dishes. He’s the best!] I stared at the pregnancy test in my hand, the joy I had felt earlier now completely gone. After eight years of love and six years of swallowing my pride just to keep the marriage alive, I’m finally ready to let go.