Who Is The Author Of Six White Boomers?

Mercedes Underwood is a lost girl. Lost from her world and herself. She grew up with abusive parents and had a really shitty childhood. Sometimes she believed that they were not her parents much less rassemblements between her and them. When she turned 18 years old, her parents attempt to sell her off to some bad people to pay off their debt. That did not come as a surprise that they would do such a thing and there was no love lost there. But what came as a surprise was when she woke up naked the next morning, walls splattered with blood and four people ripped to shreds. Life went from bad to bloody worse for Mercedes. It was like waking up in a horror scene. She was petrified and confused, nothing made sense but what did make sense was for her to pick up what she can and run. Felix Ransom is the Alpha of the White Claw pack. He leads his pack with an iron fist and ensures everyone's safety and makes sure the pack thrives. But something is missing. The gentle touch of a Luna. Felix is already 25 years old and has not found the one the Moon Goddess chose for him. His other half and mate. Each day without the one for him made his hope of ever finding her wither away. At a point, he even thought that she might have died. It never occurred to him that his made would come right to him much less be a human who is a fugitive for murdering 4 people. Or was she a human being after all?

“Stay with me this time. Forever!"She is breathtaking. She is his fated mate. He adores her, craves her, desperately wants to keep her with him.But for some reason, she remains mysterious and elusive.Alpha King Enrick has asked her this question several times over the past five years. But every time he woke up after a blissful night together, he was alone in bed.He never knows in advance the time and day when she returns. His beautiful goddess, she suddenly appears before him, more often at night. Then her intoxicating scent fades all his worries and those lonely nights without her.She is his, given to him by the Moon Goddess.“One day we will be together for the rest of our lives. I swear!" she promised once. Just that one time. But he's still eagerly awaiting the fulfillment of her promise.And then one day, when he faces the most critical battle in his life, she shows up in broad daylight, supreme and confident, with her sword aloft. She publicly claims her position as the Luna Queen next to him. But when he catches sight of her, the surprise is too extensive for him to comprehend.

After finishing work for the day, I checked my phone and realized I had been added to a group chat called "Catch the Thief." The members were my parents, my brother, Brian Wise, and my sister-in-law, Paulene Wise. I typed a question mark. Paulene replied instantly. [My jewelry is missing. I didn't add you here to accuse you or anything. I just wanted to ask what you think. Honestly, there's no use for other people in our family to take my jewelry, so I've been wondering... I'm not saying you definitely stole it. But if you did, you don't have to deny it. I'm willing to give you a chance to make things right.] My mother said nothing. She just kept tagging me over and over. I let out a small laugh and typed back. [Maybe Brian took it and gave it to his side piece. I'm not saying he definitely has someone else. Just that men his age sometimes start looking around. I'm only guessing here. And if he really did mess up, you could give him a chance to make things right, too.]

The night before our wedding, my fiancée let her so-called "best friend" butcher the gown my late mother had sewn, chopping it into a revealing mini dress. I rushed over with the ruined dress in my arms, ready to demand answers: only to catch their voices through the door: "Imagine him expecting me to wear something a dead woman stitched. What a curse!" Through the narrow gap, I saw my distant, frigid fiancée flushed with color, straddling his lap. "What we did at the bridal shop wasn't enough," she murmured. "Tomorrow, walking down the aisle in this tiny dress you made me, it'll be even more exhilarating." Their lips met. My hand froze against the door, and inside, something broke with a soundless crack. If she longed for thrills, I would grant her some.

Since my daughter, Lucy Shepherd, is an only child, my husband, Felix Shepherd, and I have decided to find her a live-in son-in-law. I ask on an online forum, "If my future son-in-law has a master's degree from a top university and earns over 10,000 dollars a month, what kind of wedding gift would seem appropriate to welcome him into the family?" Someone jokingly replies, "You'd probably have to be loaded to get a son-in-law like that. Why not give him ten million dollars as a wedding gift?" Without any hesitation, I take the person's advice and give Paul Cranston, my future son-in-law, and his family ten million dollars, along with a riverfront apartment. However, to guard against the possibility of Paul and his family seizing Lucy's inheritance for themselves once we're gone, I make Paul sign a prenuptial agreement. It clearly states that all their children must take the Shepherd family name and that the family's assets will not go to anyone with a different last name. Paul agrees to it and even thanks me profusely for everything. Yet, when Lucy gives birth to her second child, he immediately grabs the baby and changes his tune. "Even though I married into the Shepherd family, that doesn't mean I'm no longer my own person! My son must take my family name! This affects my dignity as a man!" I scoff in anger, but before I can say anything, Lucy, who is completely blinded by love, tearfully takes Paul's side. "Just go along with it, Mom. We're all a family anyway. Why must you harp on whose last name is used?" I hold my ground and refuse to back down. But the very next day, Lucy flies abroad with Paul, bringing along her two children. They have no qualms about moving into the property that Felix and I had bought abroad, as if it were their own. Despite being 58 years old, I am so enraged by her foolishness that I drag Felix to a fertility clinic. We start the IVF process. After turning 59 years old, I give birth to a son. Just as the nurse brings him to me, the door to the hospital room flies open. The family of four, who have just rushed back in a hurry, freeze in place.

Before our wedding, my fiancée, Sarah Hargrave—a professor of medieval history—held a private ceremony in a secluded chapel in the countryside. But not with me. Under the glow of candlelight, she cradled Benjamin Wheeler—her first love, his face gaunt from the cancer consuming him—in her arms. Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she murmured, "In the eyes of God, vows made before the altar are the only ones that matter. Even if the law says I belong to Daniel, my soul was never his." And so, to the faint echo of hymns and the scent of old incense, they drank from the same silver cup, exchanged rings, and stepped together into the dimly lit sacristy—their makeshift bridal chamber. I watched. Silent. Motionless. No outbursts, no demands for explanation. Just the quiet dialing of a clinic to undo the vasectomy I'd gotten for our future. From fifteen to thirty, I had loved Sarah for fifteen long years. But in all that time, there'd never been room for me. That space had always belonged to Benjamin, my stepbrother. So I let her go. Afterward, I joined a geological research team bound for the isolation of Antarctica—a land cut off from the world, quiet and clean. Before I left, I handed Sarah a divorce agreement…and a final gift to mark the end. I never anticipated that Sarah, who'd always met my devotion with frosty detachment, who'd never once glanced back as I walked away, would look ten years older overnight.