Closet Synonym Mga Nobela at Kwento

"Sign the divorce papers, Nora." I didn't cry. I simply looked at the billionaire husband who had ignored me for three years and made one final demand. "One hundred days, Silas. Move back into my bedroom. Touch me like a man obsessed with his wife. On Day 101, I will sign the papers and walk away." Arrogant and certain, he agreed, assuming it was a desperate plea to use my body to win his heart back. He had no idea what he was walking into. By Day 20, the cold, untouchable CEO is rushing home just to pin me against our bedroom door. By Day 50, he’s pulling me into his lap, whispering breathless, desperate promises in the dark. He is addicted to the friction, using every searing kiss and heavy touch to forcefully brand me as his. He thinks the heated nights we share mean I am finally surrendering. He doesn't know the truth. I’m not using these 100 nights to fall back in love with him. I’m using his counterfeit passion to completely numb my heart. While my body responds to his fire, my soul is freezing over. On Day 100, Silas pours his soul into the most emotionally raw night of my life. He falls asleep holding me tight, entirely convinced his absolute worship has won me back forever. But on Day 101, he wakes up to cold sheets, an empty closet, and a signed contract. His money couldn't buy me. His touch couldn't keep me. Now, the billionaire who thought he was playing a game will burn his empire to the ground to find the wife who gave him her body, but vanished with her soul.

She loved him to the core, and from the age of four, a name called Neil Davis took residence in her heart. For the sake of his precarious career, she even went so far as to bear children for the unfamiliar Wilson couple. Twenty years of silent devotion led to him kneeling before another woman, promising her a lifetime commitment. No one knew she was the other half on his marriage certificate, trapped in a marriage that existed only in name for many years. "Neil, you'll never know what I've sacrificed for loving you!" "Then never tell me." With that, he coldly walked away, leaving her to sit alone in the living room until dawn. It was her twenty-fourth birthday, and the divorce agreement and a five million dollar check were his gifts to her. * Married for six years, she never imagined that one day, while he indulged in passion with his "fiancée" in bed, she would be curled up in the wardrobe, losing her virginity beneath another man! She was completely naked, while the man was impeccably dressed in a suit. He forced her to peer through the crack to witness the frenzied scene on the bed. "Same position, same frequency. Guess, between him and me, who will climax first?" The man's tone was serious, and under her startled gaze, he thrust even harder, penetrating deeper. "I love you, Neil!" She bit her lip tightly, but the ecstatic cries of Neil's "fiancée" from outside the wardrobe blurred her vision. Life is so ironic— While he was making love to other women, she was hiding in the closet having an affair with that woman's uncle, Mr. Wilson. After the divorce, a child in a little suit, resembling herself and Mr. Wilson, barged into her peaceful life.

I had not asked my mother for money in three months. She thought I had finally learned to be a good, obedient son and, in a rare act of mercy, sent me a message. "I already had Calvin pay the registration fee. Learn to be more sensible from now on. Stop thinking about scamming money from the family. "I know your dad is having a hard time right now, but since you chose to stay with me, you need to be on the same side as me." When she said this, she did not yet know that I had already transferred my in-state residency out. No one believed that I, Miles Hart, who appeared on the surface to be the young master of a wealthy family, had a closet filled entirely with clothes bought before my parents’ divorce. For three full years, there was not a single new piece of clothing. Every dollar I spent privately had to be submitted through an internal approval system, with a written application and justification. Even fees for school activities required screenshots of official notices and formal quotations. All expenses had to pass the review of my stepfather, Calvin Pierce. Just because my mother constantly suspected I was siding with my father and was afraid I would secretly funnel money to him. A month ago, I needed $500 for a math competition registration fee. Calvin rejected the request again and again. "There isn't enough justification. "Why do you have to participate in this competition? "Wait until the end of the month for unified approval." By the time approval finally came through, the registration window had already closed. Mom did not know that I had endured these three years for only one reason: an in-state residency, which would make college admissions easier. Now, I was officially recommended for admission to a top university. This family was no longer a place I needed to stay in.

Once again the oxygen from my lungs was stolen at the sight of her. I cursed my night vision and knew I was going to be punished when I got home for what I was about to do. Just a kiss. One little kiss wouldn’t hurt, would it? I took a deep breath as I moved closer to her. She shifted nervously. “I-” I pulled her against my body, silencing her words with a passionate kiss. She gasped and I took the opportunity to thrust my tongue inside of her mouth. When she melted against me, I lost control. This was not the plan, but I couldn’t resist her. I picked her up before pressing her against the wall behind her. I know I had been warned against pursuing her, but it was too late for that. I had claimed her first kiss, and now I wanted all of her firsts. My hand moved under her short skirt to brush her wetness. I closed my eyes as she spread her legs. Fuck. I was screwed. I knew it was wrong. She was just a freshman who deserved her first time to be somewhere better than a closet full of musty coats with a junior who had a girlfriend. I pulled back to look into her eyes, trying to resist temptation. She touched her lips, and her eyes closed. Fuck. I was so screwed. I knew at that moment that she was going to be my first, too. ******** Sequel to Hunting Her Hunters. This is Osprey's journey to finding his mate. Follow his path that is full of twists and turns, misunderstandings, and a love so deep that it transcends the normal bounds of a mate bond from day 1.

In Cordelia's marriage, she is the other woman. First, it was to the memory of her sister, Angelica, the woman who should have been his bride. And now, she is still only second best, cast aside for any pretty face that reminds him of his lost love. After five years of marriage, and one night of passion that turned into heartbreak, she gains the strength to start over on her own. But there are things about her marriage that she never knew. Strange things are happening all around her and it turns out that she has bigger skeletons in her closet than the ones she put there herself. What really happened to Angelica? And what will she do, once she learns the truth? ________ The first time our eyes met my heart stopped. “Hello,” I smiled in his direction, “My name is Cordelia Grayson.” His returning smile was hesitant, uncertain, and small. “Atlas Steele.” He was beautiful with his golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. I could tell he was a little too old for me, but I have always been attracted to older boys. His age didn't discourage me, if anything I think it made him even more dashing. And from that moment on my heart was his. Utterly and completely. Unfortunately it was not my heart that he wanted to hold. When he raised his gaze to mine a second time, his eyes skipped over my face to focus on someone standing behind me. I turned to look. It was my sister. He asked me if I knew her. I could tell he was more interested in her than he was in me, and even though it hurt to do it, I nodded in confirmation. “That's my sister, Angelica.” “Angelica,” he said her name slowly, savoring each syllable.

Prologue Nathan sat on the roof with a portrait in his hand. He has been looking at her portrait for the past hours and he is not ready to let go of it. He stared at the picture with a satisfied smile on his face. His Sadie! He just can't stop staring at her. She was really his sweet angel which portray the meaning of her name. Sadie! He hugged the portrait before dropping it. He picked up his drawing paper and pencil ready to sketch her beautiful face again. Every corner of his room has her picture, everything! And almost all his belongings too. His plates were designed with her picture, his phone pouch was her, his wrist band has her name. His private company is in her name, his box has her picture, his closet, just name it. The workers thought he's running mad, no one believed it's love except his family and of course, his personal guard. He smiled at nothing closing his eyes before starting the sketching. He's been stalking her ever since that faithful day they met , that faithful day she became his sweet angel. He knows her every moves, everything she does and how she's being treated in her own home . He turned his hand in a fist and his jaw tightened. The thougt of that does nothing but angers him. He wants to save her, he wants to take her out of that bondage but it's not yet time. She doesn't even recognize him, it will be insane to go ask her out for marriage when she doesn't know him . He's going to make them pay, watching his Sadie from a far distance seeing her in tears, seeing her lonely, seeing her sad and seeing her feeling unloved hurt his heart so much

Vera Quinn and I spent seven years tearing each other apart in the corporate world. When we first started, she sabotaged my presentation slides, hoping to watch me humiliate myself in front of the board. I retaliated by flagging her fraudulent expense reports to HR, making sure her name was dragged through every department in the company. When we were both up for the director position, she locked me in a supply closet to make me miss the final interview. The moment I got out, I poached a major client she had been pursuing for six months, leaving her at the very bottom of the year-end performance rankings. In our industry, we were fire and water—completely incompatible. Then three years ago, the endless scheming finally felt hollow. I handed in my resignation and walked away from the industry for good. The day I packed my desk and left, Vera was leaning against the elevator door, her eyes full of mockery. "Giving up already? Mylo, a cowardly deserter like you deserves to starve on the streets". I hit the "close" button, swearing I never wanted to see her face again as long as I lived. Three years later, we crossed paths again at the industry’s annual gala. Vera was now the youngest partner in the industry. She looked at me as I stood there, humbling myself to pour drinks for an executive, and let out a sharp laugh. "It’s been a few years, and you’ve fallen this far? Working as a glorified escort to scrounge up some investments? What happened to that pride you used to fight me with?" But I wasn't there to secure any investment. I was there to beg that executive for a few more days to pay off the predatory loans my father had left behind. I just needed enough time to sign the consent form for my stomach cancer surgery with a clear conscience.

My name is Christian Thompson, and once upon a time, I was the best striker in European football. That was until he came along—Ashford Ryder, young and carefree, 10 years my junior and the new shining star. I hate him. At least that's what I tell myself. Not just because he's taken my spot, but because he's everything I've struggled all my life to be, and not to be. He's vibrant, he's happy, and the worst of all, he's openly gay. I'm not homophobic, quite the opposite—I've lived in the closet all my life. All my life, I've had to hide who I am to please the people around me. European football hasn't always been this accepting of gay men, and I'd squeezed myself into a box to fit in with what they wanted of me. It isn’t that hard when you think about my family who'd rather disown me than have an openly gay son. So imagine how I feel when the world decides to be more accommodating to people like Ashford Ryder when they shoved me in a box. It's not so easy to hate the happy-go-lucky striker, when he does everything to get close to me, despite my insistent hatred for him. He's like a thorn in my side—a hot, sexy, blonde, 5ft9 thorn I can't stop thinking about. But when one day I lose my cool around the popular striker and land myself in bad press, I end up needing his help. It's supposed to be easy. Spend some time with Ashford Ryder, and show our fans that we can work together—it's what I need to do to save my career. But no one tells you how hard it is to hate someone you spend every waking hour dreaming about.

Book 1: My Badboy Knight Tasha: I should know better than to fall for another guy who might break my heart again. But Nate Adams stormed into my life, crumbling down the walls I began building around my heart. He makes me want to fall in love again. This time, with him. Nate: Tasha Quinn is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Everything about her is beautiful. Hot. Sexy. Perfect. I am fucking in love with her. I have always been in love with her. She is my sweetest addiction. Book 2: The Playboy King Diane: Leo King doesn't give a fuck about love, dating, or any other cupid shit like that. He never lacks enough women to fuck in bed, is annoyingly attractive, and constantly oversteps his boundaries around me. Just because he's the heir to the generational wealth of the King Family doesn't mean he can have any woman at his beck and call. College was supposed to be my chance to start my life afresh, away from my past traumas. But Leo King is making things very hard for me. And living with him is also not helping me at all. Leo: Diane Brandon is the pain in my ass. Ever since she started living with me after my sister Marissa relocated to France, she's been dictating to me how I should live my life in my own house. I hate how she also acts like she is some quiet angel with no demons. But everyone has a skeleton in their closet, whether big or small, and I can feel down to my bones that Diane is hiding something truly dark beneath that cheerful, seductive mask of hers. She is making my life miserable. A little dig-up for payback wouldn't hurt.

"If I were you..." He began, his eyes suddenly having slits of fury burning within them. "I'd mind my thoughts and limit what I say." His voice dropped gravely low. My brows knitted in a frown. "Excuse me?" I asked, amused. "Are you threatening me??" I prodded further. Nicholas chortled, his voice reverberating through the walls of the room. "Call it whatever you want-I honestly don't give two fucks, but let me make it known to you, young lady..." He started and paused, and in a flick, his face became contorted with rage. "You're my possession now... You're at my mercy and I can fucking do anything I want to do to you right now, in case you don't realize that yet." He continued and I stared on, goosebumps breaking out on my forearm. "Who can save you from my clutches? Exactly what you're guessing... nobody, not even your boss, Megan!" ~>>>~ Nicholas Hills is one of the new names on the movie production scene. He is known as a Billionaire Playboy who had inherited his fortune from his Grandfather. Nicholas is naturally flirty, his good looks making him an automatic ladies' magnet, so he hides his vulnerability and prefers to give off the impression of being a careless playboy. Corvette Vincente, a 24-year-old Private Investigator is the best at what she does. Working for the ruthless gossip magazine "Splash a Star" which makes its profit from bringing out the skeleton in the closet of celebrity stars,Corvette is the best they have and her latest assignment is the Playboy Billionaire movie producer, Nicholas Hills. Getting him caught up in a scandal should be as easy as swatting a fly, but what happens when his charms and sensuality turn her into his scandal instead...? And she loves it! Every single bit!!