Novel & Cerita What Is Orange Is The New Black Based On

What's worse than war? High school. At least for super-soldier Nyla Braun it is. Taken off the battlefield against her will, this Menhit must figure out life and love - and how to survive with kids her own age.

Have you ever dreaded living a lifeless life? If not, you probably don't know how excruciating such an existence is. That is what Rue Mallory's life. A life without a meaning. Imagine not wanting to wake up every morning but also not wanting to go to sleep at night. No will to work, excitement to spend, no friends' company to enjoy, and no reason to continue living. How would an eighteen-year old girl live that kind of life? Yes, her life is clearly depressing. That's exactly what you end up feeling without a phone purpose in life. She's alive but not living. There's a huge and deep difference between living, surviving, and being alive. She's not dead, but a ghost with a beating heart. But she wanted to feel alive, to feel what living is. She hoped, wished, prayed but it didn't work. She still remained lifeless. Not until, he came and introduce her what really living is.

Warning: 18+, strong mature, and sexual content. Sneak peek: "I don't believe in God, Hailey," he murmured, as his firm hands settled on my hips and lifted me from his lap, placing me onto his desk, "But... if I did, I would have thanked him for making you." A soft gasp escaped my lips as his hands slid under my college skirt, his fingers brushing on my pussy over my panties. "Damien, you are my brother..." I managed to whisper amid overwhelming desires. This felt so wrong. He emitted a husky chuckle, leaning closer to my ear, his lips brushing against my earlobe. "Correction-Stepbrother." "But-" Before I could utter a word, his hand swiftly slipped down inside my panties, his fingers landing on my bare, wet heat and just when a moan could escape my lips, his mouth forcefully met mine swallowing the scream of pain as well pleasure when two of his fingers thrust into my pussy just like I'd felt them in my dreams... *** When I was dragged across the country to Los Angeles to live with my mom's new husband and his son, the last thing I expected was for my stepbrother to be off-limits. Least of all, I never imagined I'd find myself tempted by the forbidden. Damien Black: sinfully attractive, irrefutably irresistible, and seemingly devoid of warmth. Emotions meant nothing to him; girls were mere toys for him to have in bed. And there came my biggest mistake-believing I could be more than just a toy for him...maybe more than just another conquest in his collection. I was his dirty little secret, one that he wouldn't let go of, accept, shatter entirely, or mend. I was his toy; Well....his favorite one.

News of a wedding in Nordica's top power family lit up the world. But at the rehearsal, I caught my fiancée, Ivette Bianchi, making out with her childhood sweetheart, Jerick Weiner. "Babe, we've been in love forever. Let me use your first-time blood as pigment for my art?" Ivette blushed, hesitated— Jerick didn't wait. He pinned her to the wall and kissed her. "My best piece needs that color," he whispered. "I want this painting to end our youth." I watched them twisted together, ice-cold. Dropped the ring. It clattered across the floor. "Go through with the ceremony," I said. "Or your family goes broke." She stiffened, shoved Jerick off, and spat, "Fine." Then she turned right back, grabbed his hand, and dragged him inside. "It's just a bachelorette party. I won't miss the rehearsal." The door slammed. I didn't react. I was done. I made the call. "Change the bride. And yeah—the Bianchis crossed the line first. I want them erased."

David Bianchi - King of the underworld. Cold, calculating, cruel. A man equally efficient with closing business deals with his gun, as he was his favorite pen—a living nightmare to subordinates and enemies alike. However, even a formidable man like himself wasn't without secrets. The difference? His was packaged in the form of a tall, dazzling, mysterious beauty who never occupied the same space as the mafia king.

I marry Mason Longbright, my savior, at 24. For five years, Mason's erectile dysfunction and bipolar disorder keep us from ever sleeping together. He can't satisfy me when I want him, so he uses toys on me instead. But during his manic episodes, his touch turns into torment, leaving me bruised and broken. On my birthday night, I catch Mason in bed with another woman. Skin against skin, Mason drives into Amy Becker with a rough, ravenous urgency, his desire consuming her like a starving beast. Our friends and family are shocked, but no one is more devastated than I am. And when Mason keeps choosing Amy over me at home, I finally decide to let him go. I always thought his condition kept him from loving me, but it turns out he simply can't get it up with me at all. I book a plane ticket and instruct my lawyer to deliver the divorce papers. I am determined to leave him. To my surprise, Mason comes looking for me and falls to his knees, begging for forgiveness. But this time, I choose to treat myself better.

I worked at a sales job and felt pretty good about my work. Then, Vivian appeared. She was a new intern with an insatiable curiosity for others’ private affairs. On Valentine’s Day, my husband, Henry Ambrose, bought a million dollars’ worth of bags from me to help me meet my sales target. Just as I left work to meet him for a date, Vivian sent a snide message. [Your Fitbit just logged an extra thousand steps. That’s literally the exact distance to the hotel next door. Nice work, Lily! You close a million-dollar deal and immediately head to the hotel with the client?] I coldly fired back, [If you’re this desperate to stalk people, you should’ve just joined the K-9 unit.] That very night, parcels of adult toys appeared on my doorstep. Vivian had written a nasty post that had gone viral, and things turned out like this! [This Salesgirl Slept With My Client and Stole My Million-Dollar Commission on Valentine’s Day!] A pair of my ripped silk stockings, which I had tossed in the trash, became her “proof” that I had seduced a client during work hours. Vivian was painted as the victim, while I was viciously smeared as a “salesgirl who slept with clients for commissions.” What Vivian did not know was that Henry was actually a leading researcher worth billions. I only took the sales job because I was bored and wanted to experience something new.

She left again. She left me again. It hurts so much. It feels like I’m slowly being killed. What else am I lacking? I changed myself for her. I loved her so much. I gave her everything—even my soul. Was that still not enough? Why did she still choose that man? I really thought we were okay. I thought she was happy with me. I thought she really loved me. But it was all just wishful thinking. This hurts even more than when she left me before.

To prevent me from being jealous of my stepmother's son, my dad implemented a "family point system". Washing dishes earned 1 point, and getting a perfect score on a test earned 10 points. Accumulating 1000 points meant you could make a wish come true. When my stepbrother broke a vase, Dad said it was a sign of good luck and awarded him 50 points. When I insisted on going to school with a fever, Dad said I was trying to garner sympathy and deducted 100 points. I scrambled to scrape together every point I could, all for that exorbitant Math Olympiad registration form. On the day I finally accumulated enough points, my stepbrother cried and said he wanted a pair of limited-edition sneakers. Dad immediately emptied my points. "We're family. Your points are your brother's points too." I looked at the torn-up application form and jumped from the 18th-floor balcony.