When Life Knocks You Down Quotes Novels & Stories

Bisi, a timid Nigerian boy, discovers that he is attracted to the same sex, but he is determined to change his preference, leading to more frustration. Bisi meets and falls in love with his married boss Ebuka and a sizzling affair begins between them, an homophonic waitress, a jealous wife, and his own family make his life a living hell. Betrayed by his bisexual lover JUDE, Bisi escapes Nigeria in search of love. Fate connects him with a foreigner Scott and he experiences true and unjudgemental love. love as he had never felt before. Would the world and his family accept him for who he is or would it be over his dead body?

Even in the modern time, she was given for marriage without her consent. Her father being so selfishness, also dragged his family along into his messy shit. As always, a marriage where a lady is been forced to, must have no love at all. Irrespective of the fact she was married to one of the richest man, she wasn't happy and their marriage lacked alot. In the quest to either grow their marriage or get a divorce after the contract was about coming to an end, the couple, fell in the uncast spells of one another.

Chloe Brooks is the new kid who wanted to keep a low profile. All she wanted was to get through high school in peace and make at least one friend to help her through. That plan of hers was ruined when she ran into Mason Carter-the popular charming captain of the Football Team. Since then, her life has never been the same. Join Mason and Chloe as they maneuver their way through high school life, handle embarrassing situations and possibly fall in love along the way.

It was New Year's Eve. We were streaming live when my brother called. I spoke first, "I wish you peace and a happy, long life." He gave a cold laugh. "Yeah, well, I don't want you to have any of that. I hope you spend the rest of your life in misery." I'd cut him off the year he was flat broke. Now that he was successful, this was the first thing he did—get back at me. I kept my tone calm. "I wish you peace and a happy, long life." He sounded annoyed. "Cut it out. There's no way I'm wishing you well. If I have to say something, then I hope you stay miserable forever." The host hesitated, then chimed in, "Ben, that was just a recording of Hailey's message. And yes, when she left… she was in a lot of pain and quite miserable, just like you hoped for."

Clayton Amos finally agrees to marry me during my fifth year as the antagonist of a novel. On the day of my wedding, the chandelier in the middle of the hall suddenly snaps and falls. At the most critical moment, he shoves me aside and runs over to protect Gladys Dawson, the protagonist of the novel, and his first love. Clayton's arm is slashed as a result, and blood pours out of the wound, dyeing his pristine white suit red. Meanwhile, Gladys remains unharmed in his arms. I hold a hand against the bleeding wound on my neck and finally accept the fact that Clayton never loved me. This is when the system appears and asks me, "Hailey Paltrow, would you like to abort your mission now?" I nod in silent response. "Since he's going to end up losing all four of his limbs and ultimately wish for death, I'll let him have it."

"Doesn't it bother you?" I blurted out right there and then, having been asking myself that question since the night we slept together. I was curious, but I'd been obviously avoiding him. "What? That you're the heir to the Siren-" "That I'm trans," I said. I could care less about what he think of me being a Sirenio by blood. "T-That I'm a trans...man," "Does it bother you that I'm bisexual?" he asked me. I hadn't expected that response. Not when I'm having mixed feelings about all of this. "Does it?" he probed, closing what's left of the space between. His scent and warmth envelopes me as I'm caged between him and the sink. I shook my head. "Use your words, Miles," he said running his finger over my bottom lip. I shuddered at the sensation it brought to my body. "You were so good with those, that night," I sucked in a sharp breath. I looked away, and his touch disappeared immediately. "It was a mistake," I whispered, my heart racing. "What...happened was a-" "I don't do mistakes, Miles," Mr Stark said guiding my eyes back to his. "You should know that by now," I let out a shaky breath when his thumb found my bottom lip again. "Does it bother you that I want to fuck you right now?"

I cradled Chloe’s newborn, filled with joy and affection. The baby was not blood of mine, yet as Chloe’s best friend, I would love and protect the little one with everything I had. "Sweet boy," I whispered, gently tapping the tip of his nose. "I'm your godmother. No one would ever hurt you." The hospital room was washed in golden afternoon light. Adrian stood by the window in a dark overcoat, his profile sharp against the glass. He looked exactly like the man the whole industry knew: controlled, elegant, untouchable. Hollywood's golden producer. My newlywed husband. Then he said, in a voice as flat as if he were discussing a contract, "He's not your godson. He's my son." For a second, I thought I had misheard him. Maybe I was just exhausted from the wedding, from the endless calls and fittings and congratulations. I almost laughed. But Adrian turned around. A cruel little smile curved his lips. "The child is mine," he said again. My arms tightened around the baby. "The night you got hurt," he went on, "I was with Chloe the whole night. We went through an entire box... apparently this little guy still found a way to arrive." I couldn't move. It felt as if ice water had been poured down my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. After a long silence, I finally managed to whisper, "But... we only registered our marriage yesterday." Adrian walked over and put an arm around my shoulders, almost gently. His tone was soft, but it carried the kind of condescension people used with a child throwing a tantrum. "Don't worry. Chloe and I were never going to get married. If I had wanted to marry her, I would have done it years ago." He paused, and something almost pleased flashed in his eyes. "Didn't Chloe ever tell you? We had a history. I was her first."

I was about to end my life when he saved me. He mended my broken heart with his love and care. He told me his darkest secret. He became the love of my life. Then she came who was the love of his life. Will he ever be mine or he will just break my heart? Will I get happiness or my heart will be broken once again?

“It’s her I want”. Aurelius, the ruthless alpha of the Crescent Pack was pointing directly at me. His eyes, piercing and intense, locked onto mine in a challenging manner. Seraphine Everhart’s family had been massacred when she was barely six years during a pack war between her pack and the Nightshade Pack. Aurelius Vortigen, the alpha of the most ancient and feared Crescent Pack is cold, cruel and didn’t have a problem living up to his title as the ‘Ferocious Alpha’ even when Seraphine waltzed into his life. Seraphine who was lucky to survive and work as a slave in the Nightshade Pack had everything she needed, a decent boyfriend, a woman that loved her like a daughter and amazing friends but when the alpha plans to form an alliance with the Crescent Pack, everything she had spent 15 years building came crashing down from the storm of Aurelius’ presence. She hated him from their first meeting and when he selected her as a gift, she rejected him as her mate. He also didn’t want her, but he didn’t want to let her go. Suspending on an empty space, that was how he kept her, a pawn in a game she never wanted to play. “I, Seraphine Everhart, reject you as my mate”, my voice was firm and loud. Enough for Aurelius to hear, but not quite enough for him to take me seriously. He let out a cold laugh that made me flinch in fear. Then he finally said, “I, Aurelius Vortigen, alpha of the Crescent Pack, do not accept your rejection.” “Don’t you get it love, you’re mine and you can’t let go of me that easily”. On saying that, he grabbed my chin firmly and smashed his lip against mine.

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.