Whiskey Lullaby Alison Krauss Lyrics

On Christmas Day, eight months pregnant, I struggled through the kitchen,cooking for my husband and his secretary. When I finally sat down, hoping to taste a piece of turkey I didn’t even get during Thanksgiving, my husband shoved me aside like I was nothing. He slid the turkey in front of his secretary instead. “Alison,you’re already so fat. Stop eating. Let Daisy have it—she deserves to enjoy your cooking.” Daisy，chewing on the turkey I had painstakingly prepared, had the audacity to mock me under the guise of playing truth or dare with my child. “So, what do you think your mom looks like?” “Mommy looks like a fat pig on a farm!” “Her stretch marks? They’re like disgusting worms crawling all over her. Even Santa would run for his life!” Their laughter erupted like daggers piercing me from all sides. Humiliation and rage burned through me as my dignity was stripped bare. I demanded an apology from that vile woman, but my husband—my husband!—turned his cold, cruel face toward me and said, “Get out of here.” Pregnant, exhausted, and humiliated, I stood there in shock. Then I snapped. I grabbed the Christmas cake and turkey and threw them in the trash. I walked out without looking back. This wretched family doesn’t deserve a second of my effort or a single ounce of my love!

Savage Sons Mc books 1-5 is a collection of MC romance stories which revolve around five key characters and the women they fall for. Havoc - A sweet like honey accent and a pair of hips I couldn’t keep my eyes off.That’s how it started.Darcie Summers was playing the part of my old lady to keep herself safe but we both know it’s more than that.There’s something real between us.Something passionate and primal.Something my half brother’s stupidity will rip apart unless I can get to her in time. Cyber - Everyone has that ONE person that got away, right? The one who you wished you had treated differently. For me, that girl has always been Iris.So when she turns up on Savage Sons territory needing help, I am the man for the job. Every time I look at her I see the beautiful girl I left behind but Iris is no longer that girl. What I put into motion years ago has shattered her into a million hard little pieces. And if I’m not careful they will cut my heart out. Fang-The first time I saw her, she was sat on the side of the road drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. The second time was when I hit her dog. I had promised myself never to get involved with another woman after the death of my wife. But Gypsy was different. Sweeter, kinder and with a mouth that could make a sailor blush. She was also too good for me. I am Fang, President of the Savage Sons. I am not a good man, I’ve taken more lives than I care to admit even to myself. But I’m going to keep her anyway.

Serene’s heart raced as she stood in Nicholas’s dimly lit study, the scent of leather and whiskey heavy in the air. She’d been dusting the bookshelves when he entered, his presence filling the room like a storm. Now, he stood inches away, his black suit hugging his broad shoulders, his dark mullet framing a gaze that burned with intent. “You missed a spot,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, pointing to a shelf she’d already cleaned. Her cheeks flushed as she turned, the hem of her maid uniform riding up her thighs. “I-I’ll get it, Mr. Volkov,” she stammered, reaching up, but his hand caught her wrist, firm yet gentle. “No,” he said, stepping closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Let me show you.” His fingers slid down her arm, leaving a trail of heat, before guiding her hand to the shelf. His chest pressed against her back, and she gasped at the hardness of his body, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable. “You’re trembling, little maid,” he whispered, his lips brushing her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “Do I scare you… or do I excite you?” Her breath hitched as his free hand trailed up her thigh, slipping beneath the lace of her uniform. “Mr. Volkov…” she whimpered, but her protest melted into a moan as his fingers found her, teasing her through the thin fabric of her panties. “ Nicholas,” he corrected, his voice rough with desire, his touch growing bolder, circling her most sensitive spot until her knees buckled. “Say it,” he demanded, nipping her earlobe. “N-Nicholas,” she gasped, her body arching into him, surrendering to the fire he’d ignited. In that moment, the billionaire and his naive maid were bound by a hunger neither could deny.

"Jett?" My voice trembled. "Shhh, Bunny," he murmured, tilting the bottle and pouring the liquor over my p***y. The cold sting hit my swollen folds, and I jolted up, gasping as the burn spread through me. "Ahhh—!" I nearly buckled from the mix of cold fire and his hot tongue as he went back to eating me. My body jerked off the table, chasing the torment I knew I couldn’t withstand. He pulled back, eyes dark, smirking as his tongue followed every drop running down my thighs. "F***," he groaned. "You taste even better with whiskey on your pussy." --- I thought my biggest mistake was crushing on Jason Maltideon—my best friend, the boy I’d spent my life yearning for—only for him to reject me the moment the Goddess fated me to him. But my real mistake? Giving myself to the wrong man. His twin brother—Jettison Maltideon. He’s everything I should fear: wild, reckless, a walking sin wrapped in leather and gasoline. The kind of man who fights too hard, drinks too much, and smirks like he knows exactly how to ruin me. I hate him. I hate that he looks just like the man who shattered my heart. I hate that he knows my darkest secrets—and doesn’t care. But most of all, I hate that when he touches me, I burn. Jettison wants me. He doesn’t take no, and he’s made it clear he’ll chase me until I break. Now, with the Moon Goddess pulling our strings in a storm of betrayal, forbidden bonds, and a sickness tearing our pack apart, I’ll have to decide— Is Jettison my ruin? Or the only wolf who was ever meant to save me? Note: Rated 18+. Dark romance, morally complex characters, and triggering themes.

Geschieden und wieder verheiratet – ich habe den Überblick verloren, wie oft Aaron und ich in die Ehe ein- und wieder austraten. Er behandelte mich einst wie etwas Kostbares, doch noch kein Jahr nach der Hochzeit beantragte er unsere erste Scheidung. Der Grund war einfach: Vivian kam zurück. „Vivian ist eine Person des öffentlichen Lebens“, erklärte er. „Ich will nicht, dass jemand annimmt, sie würde sich mit einem Verheirateten einlassen.“ Diese Schauspielerin der dritten Garde hatte nichts vorzuweisen außer dem Opfer ihres Vaters. Er hatte für Aaron eine Kugel aufgefangen – ein Leben für ein Leben. Und deshalb glaubte Aaron, er schulde ihr alles. Immer wenn Vivian zurückkehrte, reichte Aaron die Scheidung ein. Und jedes Mal, wenn sie ging, heirateten wir wieder. Beim ersten Mal, als wir uns trennten, ertränkte ich meinen Kummer in Whiskey und torkelte halb betrunken zu seinem Haus. Drinnen warf das Licht einen warmen Schein. Er war bei ihr. Und ich stand draußen und zitterte die ganze Nacht. Beim zweiten Mal verfolgte ich jeden seiner Schritte – Restaurants, Auktionen, Wohltätigkeitsgalas – nur um „zufällig“ wieder auf ihn zu treffen. Mit der Zeit lernte ich dazu. Sobald er das Wort Scheidung erwähnte, packte ich leise meinen Koffer und verschwand aus seiner Villa. Meine Liebe und meine Demütigung hielten mich in diesem endlosen Kreislauf aus Trennung und Wiederzusammenkommen gefangen. Aber diesmal, als Aaron im Standesamt auf mich wartete, um wieder zu heiraten, kam ich nicht.

Axel, handsome, smart, with a secret that hasn't been revealed yet, a secret that could clear up that mess of conflicting feelings that he was just having, that made him feel bad of what he felt for HER. Was it possible to have such strong feelings for someone who was connected to you by blood? But was she? She was the only person who helped him, who got him out of his crisis, who calmed his head when he started thinking too much. Emma was his sleeping pill, and the heartbeat that made his heart live. Ali never let her feelings control her, she didn't want to get hurt, and she never would let anyone get inside that part of her and hurt her. But there was him, Miles, there had always been only him, and he had tried so hard that by now she had become accustomed to his presence, to have him in her bed, but what would have happened if Miles had found something better? Someone who could give him what Ali never did in all those years? Would Alison have understood how important he really was to him or let him fly away from her? Liam had eyes always and only for one person, but that person never looked at him, her attention was focused on someone else, and Liam had done nothing but remain silent, let that love consume him silently until he met her, Ellen. She was everything a man could want in a woman, she consumed him, turned him around in her hands. But what would have happened if that love, that little flash of light had returned when he least expected it? If he had awakened in him that something he thought was lost forever? Who would have chosen Liam?

Ich wurde als Verlobte von Lorenzo, dem Erben der Mafia, auserwählt. Doch auf einer Familien-Gala wurde Lorenzo offen von Chiara, der Tochter eines Waffenhändlers, umworben. Chiara war anders als die übrigen regelkonformen Debütantinnen. Sie jagte in einem modifizierten Sportwagen durch die Straßen, schnitt ihre Zigarren mit einem militärischen Kampfmesser auf und trank den stärksten Whiskey pur. In ihr loderten Wildheit und Ungezähmtheit – ein Feuer, von dem Lorenzo den Blick nicht lösen konnte. Er beschwerte sich bei den Familienältesten: „Wie kann so eine Frau jemals unsere Madre werden und die gesamte Familie führen?“ Seine Worte trieften vor Verachtung gegenüber ihrer Rücksichtslosigkeit, doch seine Augen hingen an ihr, verfolgten jede ihrer Bewegungen, als sie ihr Glas hob. An Lorenzos Geburtstag verkündete er schließlich seine Absicht, Chiara zu seiner Geliebten zu machen. Chiara lehnte ab. „Die Frauen meiner Familie sind Ehefrauen, niemals Geliebte. Und das Herz meines Mannes gehört einzig mir.“ Lorenzo wandte sich an mich, seine Stimme zögerlich. „Alessia, es ist nur ein Titel. Ich brauche dich, um ihn Chiara zu überlassen. Bitte? Sie versteht unsere Traditionen nicht und macht ein Drama daraus, mich zu heiraten. Wir müssen sie nur vorerst beruhigen. Selbst wenn sie mich heiratet, wirst du weiterhin diejenige sein, die die Geschäfte der Familie führt.“ Als ich in meinem Brautkleid vor dem Spiegel stand, bohrte sich ein scharfer Kristall am Mieder in meinen Finger. Ein einziger Tropfen Blut blühte auf dem makellosen weißen Satin. Das Kleid war ruiniert, aber die Hochzeit würde stattfinden. Wenn ich nicht die Frau des Erben sein konnte, würde ich die Frau des Dons werden.