The Spoiled Brat Life Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Change.” My brows scrunch. “What?” He sets the shopping bag down slowly like they were fragile before leaning against the edge of my table and damn....he looks so good. “You’re my plus one, Kratoska.” He cocks his head, voice deepening. “My date.” I felt my belly flutter with excitement and also nerves. “Your plus one?” He nods. “There’s a fundraiser dinner. Bratva business that involves powerful faces and important investors.” Just from hearing the word ‘Bratva’, my stomach twisted into knots as the contents of the flash drive flashes into my head.

I was blunt and direct which I recall Mark said she didn't like. Her lips curled into a pout. “I don't want to sound mean.. but don't you think you're a little too cruel to me when I'm the one who should be upset?” These people just never fail to surprise me do they? “You're the one who should be upset?” I said, looking down at my ruined coffee spilled out on the floor, wasted completely, several minutes of delicate effort that will just be swept up with a mop.

and sat down on her lap. She's like a child now. She felt the care of her Mommy Mari as she stroked her hair with her finger. "How's your day, hija? Ahhhm! Ahhhm! Ahhhm! Ahhhm!" asked Mommy Mari. "Ahhhm! It's okay, Mommy; I just met Uncle Kendrick and his grumpy son," she answered. "Ah! Is it Andre? He's not rude; that's just the way that boy is. Let me talk to him when we meet," answered Mommy Mari. "Don't worry, Mommy, she might say that I reported to you. I just noticed that he was like that; maybe he was just surprised because he told me. How did you say I was your child?"Really, he said that. That's really young; let me tell you when he behaves here." "Don't worry, Mommy Mari; I pissed

I shot back and he smiled cunningly. "I don't need one and I'm not gonna stop until I give the sinners the punishment they deserve" He berated. "Sinners! You are also one of them, Mykel. You kill people...." "I'm not denying it. I'm a sinner and my own punishment is going to come to me too but as for your parents, I'll be the one to destroy them because they killed my parents and abandoned me. Would you claim to be someone's best friend and still can't take care of his son??? You can't judge me today, Rissa because it's all your parent's fault. They made me loose everything! In case you don't know, i once had everything too. A cute brown dog and cars of my own. I lived in a mansion too - ver

After my miscarriage, the doctor told me I would never be able to have children again. Not long after, my husband brought home a boy from an orphanage. Still devastated by the loss of my baby, I poured everything I had into raising him as my own son. I quit my high-paying job and devoted myself to him completely. I pushed him all the way into a top university, while years of neglecting my own health left me riddled with illness. On the day of the celebration dinner for his college admission, he pulled out my oxygen line. Only then did I learn the truth. The boy I'd raised as my own was actually my husband's son with his secretary, the woman he'd been having an affair with. When I opened my e

I have always been the type to take people at their word. In fact, I've never been good at reading between the lines. Back in middle school, a girl deliberately slipped a cheat sheet into my hand. "Hold this for me. The teacher's coming," she whispers. She probably expects me to panic and stuff it into my pocket. Instead, I raise my hand. "This belongs to her. She just put it in my hand," I declare. Years later, after I start working, a new manager begins auditing the accounts. My colleague, Wendy Boyer, keeps stomping on my foot under the table. Lowering her voice, she whispers, "Just take the blame for now. You're still new, so he won't come down too hard on you." I nod, stand up,

Fun indeed. "That's my girl! You know you can do anything you want, even at school. You don't have to worry about anything. You know daddy will always take care of it." Jeez, this man talks too much. "I know, daddy, you're the best. But I have to be considerate too. I don't want to be known as a spoilt brat," I said, purposefully pouting, putting on my Oscar award acting face. "No one will ever call you a spoilt brat—not if they are willing to stay in this city," My dad said with a semi-psychopathic face. I guess I got the psychopathy from my dad.

She didn’t know if she was ready for love, or war, or something in between. But she knew one thing for sure — being spoiled by her overprotective brothers was nothing compared to being wanted by the kind of men who could move the world.

He stood up abruptly with his face in a stern look. "Excuse me! How dare you call me a spoilt brat? You don't even know me." I spat at him and aggressively run my hands through my hair. "Oh no little Tribid, I know you quite well and you have a rather popular surname though." He gave a fake smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't you dare use poverty as an excuse to talk to me anyhow? There are decent jobs out there that you can apply to instead of hoeing your pretty little ass on the streets of LA."

The Wrong Cinderella Chapter 1 I know that I'm a spoilt brat. I've been told that my entire life. To be quite honest, I stopped thinking of it as a bad thing years ago. So what if I got everything I wanted? So what if every girl in my school hated me? So what if I was the typical "rich bitch"? People worshipped me and I wasn't complaining. Except now, that is. "But Dad, please! This is the biggest party of the century! The President's son is turning 18! I have to go because I already told everyone at school that I'm going!" I cried.