300 Prc Brass Novels & Stories

It has been close to 300 years since werewolves found their destined mates. Our ancestors screwed it up for us when a lot of them would reject their destined mates only because their rank was below them. So now 300 years later and packs around the world sell their she wolves to other packs for money. Once in awhile the she wolf gets lucky and is picked by a werewolf within her pack but most of the time she’s not so lucky. My name is Savanah Woods. I’m daughter to the alpha Sebastian Woods and Luna Amelia Woods of the Silver Lake pack. I turn 18 tomorrow and while most people are excited when they turn 18 I’m honestly dreading it. I just found out the worse possible news ever… I’ve been sold to the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack. I’ve met this alpha a few times and yes he’s hot but he’s mean. No one says no to him and if you stand in his way he will kill you without batting an eye. Everyone fears him and yet I’m being forced upon him. How am I suppose to go live with him and be his mate? How will I survive?

At 3:17 a.m., every god in the world went silent. The dead began answering prayers instead. Lu Chen, a Chinese-American architect, returns to China to bury his grandmother and sell the ruined temple she left behind. But on the first night of the apocalypse, something wearing his father’s face calls him from the dark. The only place still protected is a forgotten City God Temple, guarded by one dying lamp and an ancient brass key. When Lu Chen becomes the final Temple Keeper, his divine territory is only thirty meters wide. His first mission is simple: survive until dawn. But the first person he saves is Ava Monroe, an American journalist who does not believe in ghosts, gods, or fate. She carries a mark every dead thing wants, and she knows a secret about Lu Chen’s family. To save the living world, Lu Chen must collect incense, judge wandering souls, summon ghost soldiers, and rebuild the underworld. Yet every prayer has a price, and every god who returns may not be on humanity’s side.

My husband had a heart attack on his way to work and died. All I could see was his body when I rushed to the hospital. I was heartbroken and bedridden. When I was about to die, I saw on the news that he won a lottery ticket worth 300 million dollars. My bestie cashed the prize money with him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when my husband faked his death. But I wanted to make his death real this time! “Are you from the funeral home? My husband is dead. We need to plan a cremation for him right away!”

During our company's Black Friday sale, an intern took it upon herself to change "Spend $300, save $50" to "Spend $300, save $350." In my previous life, I was the Director of E-commerce Operations. I shut down the servers immediately and stopped the company from bleeding nearly ten million dollars. At the year-end party, the intern stood in front of everyone with tears in her eyes, playing the victim. "Erin, all I wanted to do was drive user acquisition through a loss-leader growth hack!" "Customers would have come back to repurchase after getting the discount. Who gave you the right to cut off the company's revenue by killing the servers?" She posted a viral thread on Instagram: Gen Z Takes on the Workplace: How My Outdated Boss Sabotaged My Brilliant Idea. Strangers doxxed me and came after me in waves. I left the company due to depression. Eventually, her mob of rabid followers drove me off the edge of a roof. Now I've been given a second chance. When the intern points to the promo page that's about to go live and asks me: "Erin, does my Black Friday campaign look good to you?" "It doesn't just look good. This is the textbook definition of a viral growth hack!" I turn around, grab the documents, and announce over the company-wide PA system. "Cassie has personally guaranteed this campaign with her own and her boyfriend's credit history, signing a full liability agreement to cover any losses. Let's give her a hand, everyone!"

I go to the boutique my son has invested in to pick up the gown I've ordered for a banquet. Just as I'm about to leave, the manager, Wendy Reed, stops me and says that I still owe them money. She pulls out the bill. I look down at it and see that the boutique is charging me 300 thousand dollars for their creativity, 500 thousand dollars for fabric therapy, and one million dollars for their chief designer's mental wellness. On top of other expenses, the price totals up to two million dollars. I laugh incredulously and send a message to my secretary. "Withdraw our funding from my son's company and this boutique!"

My husband was tall and handsome, but he had no money to pay his debts. During the five years of our marriage, I sold my house and car for him. We then moved to a dark and humid basement that was only 300 square feet in size. When I got pregnant, I wanted to go for checkups, but he said that there was no need for it, as it was a waste of money. So I gave birth to a baby with a congenital heart condition. In order to get the money for his surgery, I worked three jobs every day. At that time, I noticed that my husband bought a mansion worth 40 million dollars for an influencer, and I finally realized that my husband was no orphan, but the son of the richest man in the country.

The rivalry between the werewolves and vampires has raged since time memorial. Yet two brothers proved it otherwise. Brothers bonded by blood, but different in nature. Returning to their town, founded by their father of which they absconded from nearly 300 years ago, sought to stay and rid of opposing forced that loomed in the dark. Along the line, Julian the werewolf fell in love with a girl, Emma. A white witch who had her powers locked away from ignorance of possession. And William the vampire and eldest, most ruthless stays neutral, however loyal only to his brother. The brothers stand up against the greatest evil of all, but with help from other Supernaturals like them. Will evil prevail? Is Evil Vehement?

On the night of New Year's Eve, I wake up in a hospital ward with an IV drip connected to the back of my hand. A nurse passes me the hospital bill. "It's 300 dollars in total, including the emergency treatment fee and the cost for a bottle of glucose drips." When I turn on my phone, I feel my heart sinking. I only have 29.01 dollars left in my bank account. The wallpaper of my phone is a countdown of my family contract's app. Today is the date when I have to renew my family contract for the year. In order to accumulate enough money to go home, I've been working as a staff member in concert venues. Earlier, I had collapsed backstage, so I was quickly sent to the hospital. The dial tone keeps beeping for a long time. Finally, my mom answers my call in what seems to be a noisy background. "Mom, I'm at the hospital right now. I need 300 dollars to pay the hospital bill." "You're at the hospital?" Mom's voice turns shrill immediately. "Why did you visit the hospital during the holidays? You really are a jinx!" "I fainted earlier. I was working at a concert venue—" "What? So, you refused to do chores at home during the holidays! Instead, you decide to work at a concert venue?" Mom interrupts immediately. "I don't have 300 dollars on me! You'd better come up with a way to pay that bill of yours!" "Mom…" My hand tightens around my phone. "Today is the last day of my family contract's renewal period. I'll renew the contract once I pay the bill." "Renew the contract, huh?" Mom just sneers at me. "That's a part of your duties! How dare you use it against me! Helena Lambert, if you don't renew the contract today, you can forget about calling me 'Mom'!" After that, she ends the call. I can only grip my phone to the point that my fingers turn white. After that, I tap on a social media app in hopes that I can borrow money from my friends, only to see the latest post on the social media feed. My younger sister, Hannah Lambert, has posted a photo collage there. "I'm here with my parents to watch my favorite singer's concert! Snagging tickets to the first-row seats is definitely worth it!" The background of those photos is the same concert venue where I work part-time at. It's the most expensive venue in town. Apparently, tickets cost 2,900 dollars each.

Vida was a waitress who put in eight hours a day in order to afford her $300 monthly rent and three square meals a day. She enjoyed each and every fantasy story as if it were true, and she longed to live in and explore the worlds depicted there. But she was shocked to find out it was true. Meeting a royal is the last thing she expected, but it happens. She does, indeed. Her visions morphed into steamy fantasies, and before she knew it, the handsome stranger was standing outside the bar where she worked. The question recurs, "Am I dreaming again?" They repeated in unison, looking into each other's eyes in disbelief. What happened afterwards is ancient history. And the ride was quite exciting.

Five minutes before the ceremony, I called off the wedding. In my last life, right in the middle of our vows, Sandra Crowe suddenly demanded another 300 thousand dollars as a "marriage guarantee." She pulled out her phone in front of everyone, chin tipped up, a payment screen glowing. "Three hundred thousand! Not a dollar less, or I'm not putting on that ring." Ten years together, and we were right at the finish line. I forced myself to go through with it and transferred the money. It was what Dad had scraped together over two years for his kidney transplant. That same night, his condition crashed. I went to Sandra and asked if she could lend me the money back for his treatment. She yelled at me instead. "You're asking me for money on our wedding night? Seriously? That 300 grand is mine! Don't even think about touching it!" Dad missed his window and died in the hospital hallway. The day he died, Sandra was out shopping with her friends, dropping thousands on a Chanel bag without a second thought. "Good. One less burden. At least he won't drag us down anymore." When I filed for divorce, she brought her guy friend to the funeral and made a scene, knocking over Dad's urn and damaging the headstone. Then she turned around and accused me of sexual assault, demanding 500 thousand in damages. Mom couldn't take it. She drank pesticide and died. On my way to pursue the case, I was hit by a car. When I opened my eyes again, I called off the wedding. Then Sandra stepped closer, already pulling up her payment screen. "Transfer me three hundred thousand as a marriage guarantee, or we're not getting married." I tossed the ring into the trash. "Works for me."