How To Accessorize Outfits That Look Good On You?

After six years together, Hansel Johnson comes to Miranda Sutton with an arm around his new lover and tells her he wants to break up. Miranda doesn't kick up a fuss. She packs her things, takes the exorbitant sum of money he gives her as compensation, and moves out without hesitation. Hansel's friends make bets on how long Miranda can stick it out this time—everyone in Jandersville knows that Miranda is madly in love with Hansel, after all. She loves him so much that she can cast aside her pride, dignity, and temper. They're sure she'll come begging for him to take her back in three days, at most. But when three days come and go… Hansel's the first to lose his composure. It's his first time giving in to Miranda. He calls her and says, "Have you had enough of this nonsense? If you have, you'd better come back." Unfortunately for him, he only hears a man chuckle on the other end of the line. "It's too late to change something once it's done, Mr. Johnson. There isn't anything in this world that can turn back time." "I'm looking for Miranda. Pass the phone to her!" Hansel snaps. "Sorry, but my girlfriend's too tired. She's just fallen asleep."

He was the boy that no one noticed. He was quiet, bland to the naked eye, a total wallflower who sat on the sidelines and lacked in eye contact with those around him though he had the type of eyes that made you feel like you could drown. He tried his best to blend into the background, but what he didn't know was that he was the only one that caught my eye. He was the most intriguing person I had ever laid eyes on even though he couldn't see me. He couldn't see anything.

*Warning* This book contains explicit content and it's rated 18+. They can be read as standalone as they are all age-gap romances. Hope y'all are ready for a pleasant ride. xoxo. "Oh, please, sir. Please, fuck me!" I screamed in delirium. The heat from him disappeared for a moment, and I was sad and scared. Where did he go? What had I done wrong now? But he returned, sheathed and ready to plunge into me. "Oh, thank God," I said breathlessly. He chuckled a little; slowly he slid in, adjusting me on the sink, aligning me to his dick. Each thrust sent me further into a manic need to come. Perhaps I was screaming, because his hand covered my mouth. For a brief moment, I was frightened. I was panting so hard it blocked my need to breathe, but then his voice was in my ear. "Come for me, bluebird."

"You're my little Lucky charm" ~Emilio. Emilio is a football captain, Highschool popular, rich, but he's also a daddy dom. Alex is a shy little, an orphan, scholarship kid. He gets bullied by everyone around the school. His life in a foster home isn't much better. They both go to a school for the rich and wealthy, were they offer some extra calsses for special peoples like them. Watch their world collide.

On our wedding day, my bride insists on wearing an old, beat-up watch with the million-dollar wedding dress I buy her. I call off the wedding on the spot. She looks at me in shock. "You called off the wedding just because of a watch?" I take out the divorce agreement and tell her to sign. "Yes. Because of that watch." Everyone calls me crazy. They cannot believe I would end a ten-year relationship over something so worthless and file for divorce in front of everyone. Dad walks up and slaps me across the face. "Get on your knees, you disgrace." My mother-in-law shrieks that I have ruined her daughter's future by returning her like damaged goods. I look at the watch on her wrist, which is stopped at 3:07, and I smile. Then, I phone my assistant. "It's time. Release everything. I want a divorce."

My husband dotes on me. He's always saying I'm the one he cherishes most in this life. Everyone else envies me too, saying I married well—pampered like a princess. It all started when I mentioned, offhand, that tailored cuts flatter my figure. From that moment on, he kept it in mind every day, going out of his way to gather all kinds of designer womenswear for me. In the walk-in closet at home, there's always a wardrobe filled exclusively with my new clothes—each piece haute couture, with exquisite fabrics and impeccable craftsmanship. On New Year's Eve in our third year of marriage, the house was lively, packed with relatives chatting and laughing. With a smile, my husband handed me a gift box. "Go on, open your New Year's present." The frustration and resentment I'd been bottling up for so long exploded in an instant. I shoved the box to the floor. "It's the New Year—can you just stop for once?" The moment the words left my mouth, everyone fell silent. The relatives' expressions shifted; one after another, they began to scold me for being ungrateful, for not knowing how lucky I was. My husband looked at me, eyes full of shock and hurt. "I just bought you some pretty clothes. Why are you angry?" Amid their pointing fingers and his wounded questioning, I rushed into the walk-in closet like I'd lost my mind, dragging out those designer clothes and throwing them all over the floor. Everyone stared at me, stunned. No one said another word.