How Long Does It Take To Get A Six Pack?

His smoldering golden gaze struck sparks from hers. “I wanted you the first time I saw you nearly three years ago. Now I want you even more.” “Me too... I've been waiting for this for so long… Three years might seem an eternity sometimes. Touch me, Diego. Please,” she mumbled shakily. “I will, 'cariño'… And I won’t stop. Not until you beg me to.” "Then... Don’t you ever stop…” she whispered urgently, shifting her hips in a restive movement against the sheet, wildly, wickedly conscious of the growing ache at the very heart of her. “Never…” "Is this a promise?" "A certainty." For sexy, mysterious Mexican aristocrat Diego Francisco Martinez del Río, Duque de Altamira, Jacqueline Maxwell was a gypsy, a weirdo living in awful conditions. And she was raising his orphaned baby niece in… a trailer! So unacceptable! Since she wasn’t giving up on little Azura, and his niece was very fond of her aunt, Diego offered to marry Jacqueline and raise the little girl together. Yes, she was poor but she was a real beauty, and with a little help, Jacqueline might become a perfect wife for a Duque. Graceful, beautiful... delightful, even. Jacqueline Maxwell knew Diego and his kind all too well. He was as stunning and charming as the devil himself, but twice as ruthless and heartless. He was just a playboy interested in one thing and one thing only. And it had nothing to do with little Azura. Still, accepting his proposal of a marriage of convenience might be the end to all her worries regarding the little girl left in her care by Alyssa, her sister...

I had been in a secret relationship with my mafia boyfriend, Dante Castellano, for seven years. No public contact. No photos together. No proof I had ever stood by his side. He told me, "Once I'm powerful enough that no one dares touch you, I'll make it official." I believed him. The day before our seventh anniversary, I found a ten-carat diamond ring in his suit jacket. I cried with joy, thinking seven years of hiding were finally over. The next morning, I wore my most expensive dress and sprayed on the only perfume he had ever given me. I practiced my smile in the mirror, the one I would give when he proposed. Then, my phone lit up with a breaking news alert. [Breaking News: Seven-Year Love Story Reaches Perfect Ending—Romance Blogger Alessia Romano Accepts Boyfriend's 100th Proposal!] In the photo, the influencer with eight million followers stood on her tiptoes, kissing a man. His hand rested on the back of her neck. On that hand was a scar I would never mistake. It was the scar Dante got when he took a knife for me.

Holy shit. Hell no. Ivette’s brain turned into a puddle as she stared into those bright brown eyes that had wiped her world away on that night weeks ago. She would never forget those eyes that haunted her dreams every night. His knowing smile. His full mouth that had touched every inch of her skin. His dark hair that her fingers had dove into and pulled as she moaned against his tan skin. His scent that made her knees wobble with need. At least, now she knew his name. When Ivette King's long-term boyfriend proposes to her, in a bid to find some semblance of peace, she takes a step in the wrong direction. A one-night stand with a rival. A mistake, she called it. An unforgettable experience, he begged to differ.

My husband's gym was celebrating its grand opening, so I grabbed my best friend and headed over under the guise of "checking the place out," armed with a $10 trial class we had snagged from a group deal. I never once mentioned that I was the owner's wife. The moment we wrapped up the workout, a female trainer slapped a price sheet into our hands and gave us a look that could cut glass. "Let me guess, you two came here to milk the freebies? Our private training sessions cost hundreds. They're not here for people like you to exploit." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "We bought a perfectly valid trial class. How does that make us freeloaders? Get your manager." She rolled her eyes, acting like she was the rules. "Call whoever you want! The owner is my boyfriend, and he can't stand penny-pinchers who show up trying to mooch off his gym." Then, right in front of us, she called him—voice raised, dramatic, dripping with fake indignation. "Babe, there are two cheapskates in your gym demanding the manager. Come deal with them for me!"

For three years Rebecca Carter has lived in a loveless marriage. Her husband never makes her feel desired. He blames her for their unhappy nights and finally tells her he wants a divorce after his thirty day business trip. Heartbroken but determined, Rebecca joins a private institute to learn how to become the loving and passionate wife he wants. There she meets Liam Jakes, her kind and handsome trainer. His gentle lessons on sensuality and connection awaken feelings she has never known. As the days pass, Rebecca discovers joy in her own body and a growing attraction she cannot ignore. But guilt and loyalty pull her back. On the twenty ninth night she learns the painful truth about her husband. Everything she fought for was based on lies. In her moment of heartbreak, Rebecca must choose between the past and a future filled with real passion and happiness. Thirty days to save her marriage. Thirty days to find the love and pleasure she truly deserves. A heartfelt story of awakening, second chances, and discovering true desire.

At our seventh wedding anniversary dinner, I noticed something strange. My best friend, Darren Blackburn, who had always been single, had suddenly changed his profile picture to a couple’s photo. "So you’ve been hiding a girlfriend from me?" I joked with a grin. "When are you bringing her around? I should at least meet her and make sure she’s good enough for you." He just smiled and shook his head, brushing it off. "Not yet," he said. "It’s not the right time." Then Deanna Cunningham, my wife’s voice called out from the kitchen, "Babe, come help me tie my apron." I hadn’t even pushed my chair back yet when Darren was already on his feet, jogging over. He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and tied the apron strings for her. I froze where I stood. Seeing the look on my face, he quickly tried to explain, "I’m just used to helping out at home. My mom’s always bossing me around. It’s basically muscle memory. Don’t read into it." I didn’t argue or make a scene. I kept my expression neutral and carried on with the dinner as if nothing had happened. Only after all the guests had left did I turn to Deanna, who was clearing the table, and say calmly, "Let’s get a divorce." She slammed the dishes down with a loud crash and glared at me. "Seriously? Over something like that? Just because he tied my apron once?"