Was Snape Jinxing The Broom Mga Nobela at Kwento

Working in the Sex Industry isn't always what it's cut out to be. Some find love, like to cause chaos and others just simply try to get away with murder. = Six lives, one book and an endless rollercoaster of fun! = --- Amar lowers our hands, removing the gun from my grasp and he waits for Vanko to re-enter the room, passing him the murder weapon to dispose of. I feel Amar turn away from me and I turn to face him, wrapping my hand around his arm. When he comes to a halt and looks down at my hand, "What now?" I ask him. "You are free to leave." He says as he elevates his gaze to mine, staring me directly in the eyes.

I got off work early and walked into the living room, only to find my wife lounging lazily on the couch. And next to her? Some random dude I didn't recognize. "Babe, you know I'm obsessed with that sweet, milky smell," he said, sipping away like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. That was it—I completely lost it. Meanwhile, our baby was in the corner, crying her lungs out, hungry and ignored. I didn't even think twice. I grabbed the broom by the door and stormed in, ready to raise hell.

First love is the best love, and the best love is the one that lasts forever. Melora Channing thought she would never see Chance Benson again. But of all the weddings in all the towns in all the world, he decided to be one of the guests at this particular one. Was it a coincidence? After so many years, her teenage dream, her first love, was hiding in the same broom closet, talking to her like he had just seen her the day before. The notorious billionaire, the same boy who used to hang out with her brother in high school, offers her the leading part in a ‘scandalous’ public affair… to help him distract the tabloids from a damaging scandal. ‘It would be fun,’ he said. ‘Just for a few days…’ But neither Melora nor Chance expected their public affair to become so real, so passionate away from the paparazzi, behind closed doors. Or to change their lives forever.

“This is wrong,” he groans, dragging me down harder onto him as he thrusts up. “I’m your mother’s husband and you’re still begging me to take you like a mate.” He grunts and pulls me closer. "Why. Did. We. Get. A. Forbidden. Bond," he growls, each word punctuated by the slam of his hips. She was born the wrong daughter. The unwanted girl with Fae blood in her veins and a broom in her hand, cleaning floors in a house that should’ve been her home. Now Aurora is a bargaining chip, chosen to seal peace between two rival packs through a bond she never wanted. But on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, everything changes. One breath. One scent. One forbidden truth that shatters every law her world is built on. Because her true mate isn’t the Alpha she’s being given to. It’s the man already married to her mother, and there is no suppressing the hunger of a bond that was never meant to exist.

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"