Nikki Gets Fit Cookbook Novels & Stories

“You don’t always have to say something, you know that, right?” I said, my voice sounding strange in my ears. “You need to stop talking down on people just to massage your stupid ego!” ***** The worst thing about suddenly changing schools is the part where you think it's your chance to begin from the top—take life by the reins and navigate it in the direction you've always wanted. That was what Sydney Walker thought when her boyfriend, Chase Monroe, released private pictures of her right before he left the town. Then a week after, her father is found dead in the cold rain. She was forced to go live in a whole new city with her family which she barely knew, giving her hope that she could start afresh. But news flash: she's still the same plus size, introverted nerd even in her perfect sister's kind of clothes. And Tyler Sinclair—Lakeview’s golden boy, never called it a day if he didn't remind her that she was three times her sister's size, up to their senior year. But the more he punches her in the guts, the more circumstances around her push her to fight back. But when? And how would she finally square up to the one boy that toxic part of her secretly wants to see every day? And what about Tyler? Are his insults just mere “tease” or is there something going on in his family that no one else knows about?

It was only meant to be a one-time, one-night solution to ONE problem. Okay, that's a lie. There are two problems: #1) I'm broke. Through no fault of my own, other than I fell down a rabbit hole so deep, I'm now buried in my sister's debt—with my name, Nikki St. Claire, stamped across it. #2) I honestly need a reprieve from my overly mundane, personal life. So when I stumble upon a highly exclusive and extremely secretive auction, I'm both intrigued and potentially saved, given I've left no "box" of what I'll do unchecked on the interview questionnaire, which exponentially increases the reserve that's set on me. Only thing is… The man who buys me turns out to be Jameson Richards. A drool-worthy billionaire bachelor. Also… My boss. How we got this tangled up in each other is a story unto itself. What we do once I accept his one-night contract is a tale riddled with lust and love.

The day before our wedding, I received an expensive suit from my wife. Not long after, her young lover called me, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. It was my fault. My bad for mixing up your size. Please… please don't blame Sylvie." On the other end, I could hear Sylvie soothing him gently, patiently, until he calmed down. I stared at the plane ticket in my hand—a one-way trip out of the country—and calmly asked her for a divorce. Then, as if I no longer mattered, she left me with a single, cold sentence. "Just don't regret it."

It was the fifth year of my secret marriage to the CEO. At the company's annual gala, her male assistant got down on one knee and proposed to her in front of everyone. The way she looked at him was filled with nothing but affection. Caught up in the crowd's cheers and chants, she said yes. After the gala, I signed the divorce papers and handed them to her. Her assistant put on a sheepish, apologetic face and said, "I'm so sorry—I just wanted to know what it felt like to propose. Please don't be upset, Mr. Gabehart." She rushed to comfort him, then barely glanced at me and said, "You'd better think this through. At your age, honestly—who else would want you if you leave me?"

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.

"Arms up baby, let me play with you. Have you ever been played, Allen?" Her voice was raspy, her breath fanned my ear. She took my wrists and wrapped my silk tie on it, she was straddling me. Her pink perky nipples teased my face, making me let out another moan. "Lou baby, just ride me alre..." she shut me up by kissing me hard. ***** Nothing prepared him for the one forsaken night he decides to go out clubbing with his buddies. It was the night that he met her, he didn't realize that he had fallen for her right then and there. Allen is a young, successful, filthy rich world champion surfer with a face to match. Louise is a smart young business owner, with a group of sassy sidekicks. Can opposites attract? Can their best friends strengthen their feelings?

After the breakup, my ex mocked me and called me a coward scavenging for scraps, then lured me to her new lover's winery just to humiliate me in front of everyone. Later, she accidentally shattered a bottle of priceless red wine and tried to pin the blame on me. What she didn't know was… the winery belonged to my family.

On the very first day of college, I became Kingsley University's infamous jerk magnet. It didn't matter whether it was the polished upperclassman everyone adored or the rebellious campus bad boy; any guy who went on even one date with me would dump me the very next day for my roommate, Lucinda Lane. Lucinda quickly became the untouchable dream girl every elite guy was obsessed with, effortlessly managing her ever-growing roster of admirers. She'd hand me another carefully curated list of perfect dating prospects every single day. "Girl, don't be afraid of getting hurt. There's always a better one waiting. You have to be brave enough to chase true love." I believed her. So, I kept going after the next guy. This time, I had gotten a sweet younger student with puppy-dog charm. Then, he dumped me, too. For Lucinda. Just when I was at my lowest, a stream of floating comments suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. "The heroine is incredible. She's stolen so many men already! I've hated that evil supporting girl forever. Why does some country bumpkin get to have all these guys falling for her?" "I wish I had the heroine's Affection Transfer System. That way, my ex wouldn't have been stolen by that woman." "I can't wait to see what the next male lead is like. I'm literally just sitting here and waiting for her to steal another man." That was when it finally clicked. I'd been working unpaid as stocking labor for her dating pool this whole time.

I've had a crush on my fiancée for years, and we're finally about to get married. Yet I'm willing to jump off a building just to avoid marrying her—all because I've been reborn. In my past life, she and I were married for over two decades. We were the perfect couple in everyone's eyes. However, the fairy tale came to an abrupt end on our 25th wedding anniversary. She took her own life, and she did it with her true love. As I kneeled before her grave, I asked, "Did you regret marrying me?" I knew I wouldn't hear her response, so I answered myself. "I regret marrying you." When I open my eyes again, I find myself back to before the wedding happens. I decide to run away. This time, I want us to become nothing but estranged acquaintances. To my surprise, she comes to me, looking like she's terminally ill. She says, "I've never regretted marrying you. Whether in this lifetime or the past, you're the only one I've ever wanted to marry."

They say, love is like gambling, it's either you'll lose or you'll win. When Cianna marries the man she loves, she can say that she has won. Of course, she already has the person of her dreams. But what if she is not happy? What if her husband never once made her feel that she was his wife, that she had value in him? Can she still consider herself as a winner? No! They say, when you love, you'll fight for him or her. But what if you are tired? What if you can no longer pursue the person who is trying to get rid of you? What will happen When A Martyr Wife Gets Tired? ___ This is a story of a mother and her twin daughters as follows.