Scarpetta Beach Photos 소설 & 이야기

In the eighth year of my marriage to Georgia Snow, her 108th lover, John, showed up and made a scene in front of me. In the past, she would have dealt with anyone this bold before they even reached me. However, she broke from her usual pattern this time. She indulged his behavior and allowed him to taunt me. Georgia even brought him along to high-profile events. She turned a blind eye to all the rumors circulating everywhere. She even dared to skip my family banquet. When I saw the photos my secretary had sent over, Georgia was in a high-end restaurant enjoying a meal with John. The next second, I showed the photos to her mother. Georgia and I were in a business marriage. We had agreed from the start that we could each do as we pleased. With that said, there was an unspoken rule. We had to keep up appearances and maximize the combined interests of both families. Since she refused to follow the rules, I had to ditch her, lest she affected my family business’ stock price.

Sunny is an aspiring writer who wants to venture the world of writing erotic romance. One night, while she was browsing some photos to use as her book cover, she saw a picture of a very handsome man with dark-blue hair yet green emerald eyes. Sunny used the photo without knowing what awaits her after the man in the photo knew that his photo was used in an erotic novel.

Among the world's female models, Julian Vance once again ranked first as the photographer they most wanted to spend a night with. And yet he had never taken a single photograph of me. When reporters asked about it, he could never hide the fondness in his eyes. "My wife is for my eyes only. No one else gets that privilege." On my birthday, I happily changed into a lace nightdress and, for the first time, asked him to record me with his camera. Several minutes passed. The shutter never sounded. Behind the camera, Julian's expression had gone stiff. "Forget it," he said. My joy collapsed into confusion. "What's wrong?" "It's just..." He laughed dryly. "Photography is work. I don't want to mix you up with work." Then he put the camera back, turned around, and went into the bathroom. The door to the darkroom where he developed his photos was half open, red light spilling through the crack. I walked inside and saw an album on the worktable titled Vivian Blair's Private Diary. I opened it. Inside were photos in every degree of intimacy and every kind of pose.

At the start of graduation season, my boyfriend took more than two hundred photos of Madison Vale. Chase Whitman was president of Westbridge University’s photography club. He knew how to find flattering light and how to coax people out of stiff smiles. Madison stood beneath the maples outside the library in a white dress, her graduation cap tucked under one arm. “Am I taking up too much of your time?” she asked. Chase checked the last few shots and smiled. “You make my job easy.” When it was finally my turn, he barely looked at me. “Stand by the tree.” He clicked the shutter twice and lowered the camera. “Done.” I stared at him. “That’s it?” He turned the screen toward me. In one photo my eyes were half-closed; in the other, a branch shadow slashed diagonally across my face. “Can we try again?” Chase sighed. “Avery, you always tense up. Fifty more takes won’t change that.” Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. He had posted in the Westbridge Buy: Twenty dollars for someone to spend ten minutes taking a few graduation photos of my girlfriend. Nothing fancy. She just needs something usable. Half an hour later, a stranger replied. I sent him my location, then added: Just so you know, I’m not very photogenic. His answer came almost immediately: That usually says more about the photographer than about the subject. When Rowan Hayes arrived, he looked at Chase’s two photos and said, “He didn’t even try.” An hour later, he sent me the raw files. No filters, no heavy retouching. Just me on the library steps, my hair loose in the wind and my eyes brighter than I remembered them being.

My best friend loved playing 'jokes.' On my birthday, she projected my worst photos in front of everyone, saying she just wanted to 'liven up the mood.' When I was on my period, she deliberately gave me a defective pad. Even when she saw the stain on my clothes, she said nothing–claiming she was helping me 'get more attention.' After I started dating, she edited my photos into suggestive images and spread them across social media groups, pricing them like a product. When I finally snapped and confronted her, she just laughed. "I'm just helping you test your boyfriend," she said. "If he doubts you, then he doesn't really love you. How can you blame me?" Later, a man used the information from those posts to track me down and harm me. I did not survive what followed. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first shared those images.

They say life begins after 40, but Cassie ain't feelin' it. Divorced and feeling trapped by her job, she wants to let loose for her friend's tropical beach wedding. She decides to let her hair down and get a little unpredictable. That's when she meets a handsome bartender, Wyatt. Despite a few grey hairs, Wyatt's the liveliest man that Cassie has ever met. She knows that there's got to be more to his life story than just being a bartender, but this is just supposed to be a vacation fling. And after sunny days spent breaking all the rules on the beach together, Cassie realizes that nobody has ever listened to her the way that Wyatt does. His carefree life is enviable, his kisses are intoxicating, and she can almost imagine a life with him. But all vacations come to an end. And when Cassie invites him to visit her hometown, Wyatt reveals that he can never go back. Not to her town. Not to America. Not to civilization. Cassie leaves, confused and heartbroken, wondering just who she got herself involved with. Suddenly, her predictable life gets turned upside down when she sees her picture splashed across the Internet. And when the tabloids come looking for the mature woman who found the lost billionaire, she has no idea what to do... ...until he comes back.

I once thought that my and Sebastian Ford's love would last a lifetime. Yet, the man who claims to love me does everything possible to hurt me. He takes wedding photos with another woman and goes on vacation with her. They even sleep in the same room. When making love to me, he speaks to a friend in a foreign language. He tells the friend he will marry another woman but keep me bound to him with a fake marriage certificate.

Chasity Dawson is the shy daughter of a housemaid and Joe Bandit is the school's "Golden boy" and the son of the family her mother works for. One-night Joe texts her, and asks her for a favor that involves a mysterious unmasked culprit, leaving photos of Joe and his family at their doorstep every week for years. This mystery leads to a growing attraction between Joe and Chasity. Along with deadly secrets that were best left alone. Secrets… that could get someone killed.

My husband was not fully conscious from anaesthesia after waking up from surgery, and he started spouting nonsense. I laughed while recording his comical reaction, but while helping him into a chair, I paused when I heard him calling for his son. "Be a good boy, all right? Daddy is busy." My smile froze, and I was stunned. We had been DINKs for 10 years. When did he get a son? My hands trembled as I turned on his phone. It was the first time I was looking through his phone in our years of marriage. When I browsed the phone’s data, I found a private album filled with intimate photos of him with another woman and a child. It was a boy who looked very similar to him, and the timestamp on the photos indicated that the boy was three. All three of them were smiling happily, but their smiles hurt me. He had once told me with conviction that he hated kids and did not want to be tied down by family, which was why he convinced me to be a DINK. However, I now knew that he was not really sincere about being a DINK; he just did not want to have kids with me.

What do 26 years of friendship, plus 26 years of pent-up, sexual frustration, and one drunken, exciting, night on the beach get me? I just found out I'm pregnant with my best friend's baby... How the hell am I supposed to tell him that we're having a baby together? How will he react, and will he want this blessing just as much as I do? What's even worse is our parents have started to date each other... What does that mean for Cole and me?