Prof Israel

My eyes lingered on the beauty in front of me, as I tried to knock out the bitter feeling from her words. "I can't love you, Anderson. My heart had been broken into a thousand pieces. Let's part ways," she stated, my heart almost leaping out of control. "Then, let me be the one to mend the broken pieces. Let me be your perfect gentleman." I held her hands closely, staring into her enchanting brown eyes. "I..." She stuttered, as I inched closer, claiming her lips, with only one thought in mind, "To claim her, and make her love me." ........... Within a week, Genevieve went through the toughest of times. Not only did her boyfriend of two years break up with her, she later realized her best friend was engaged to him. The ones she called her parents revealed they weren't her real parents and had betrothed her off to a Billionaire who was interested in marrying her-someone she never met before. With her heart broken into a thousand pieces, insecurities, betrayal, and childhood trauma calling unto her, she wasn't ready to give love another chance. Anderson, her betrothed, wasn't the sort to give up, and would give it every shot to cherish and love her. And most importantly, mend her broken heart and make her give love a second chance. Will her heart melt and give in to love? What could possibly go wrong when enemies from the past wanted them apart? Will their love stand the test of time?

He trailed his hand down her face as it flushed instantly, emotions that seemed uncontrolled blooming out. "I love you. You know that right?", he asked, his eyes looking as convincing as ever, as he stared at the naive and lovesick teenage girl in front of him. " I...," she could not make out her words as her legs turned into jelly, making her lean gently on him. "I love you too," she managed to say, and those were the words he needed. It was the final year for the 12th graders in GGIS High School. While happy at the approaching conclusion of their Highschool lives, there was also the fact that they may never see one another again. Now, more than ever was the perfect time to express all the feelings or bury them. For Rachael, it was the perfect time to get rid of her feelings for Zack, her crush and high school bad boy. For Kevin, it was now or never to tell Rachael how he felt about her. Things got complicated as Rachael's best friend developed a crush on Zack, while Kevin is hopelessly waiting for Rachael to reciprocate the feelings he had for her That wasn't easy to do when surrounded by post-puberty bodies nearly bursting with raging hormones with a liking for unwholesome entertainment in their various lives and secrets of their own. Some more than others. Andrew, their friend, in particular, seems to be hiding a secret. With a rift torn between friends, a locked closet full of skeletons, and choices that could either mend their relationships or rip them apart for the rest of their lives. Will they submit to their urges? Will they come to understand their feelings? And work together to find out what the probable skeletons in the closet are?

"Mother said you agreed to marry me," I stared at her deeply in the eyes, as I took in her beautiful features. "Yes, I did," Her sultry voice replied. "Good. We will get married, but only for a year," Her face wore a confused look as she blinked. Taking her wrist, I allowed my thumb to gently sweep up and down. "Make me fall in love with you within a year, and we will live forever," I let the words in my heart out "What if I fail?" Her gaze met mine. "Then we will end the marriage and part ways. Worse still,you will lose everything you have,"I replied icyly, as her wrist slipped off. She looked at me with disdain. ******** Ariel Peterson, a young twenty five year old lady was thrown out of her so-called home, by her step mother. She decided to end it all, but found herself in a hospital. A marriage proposal in front of her, giving her a second chance, one she jumped at without a second thought.' Marriage will be lovely,'she thought. The cold Billionaire she was to get married to gave her a difficult task. 'To make him fall in love with her within a year' Will she be able to work her way into the heart of her husband? When a lady from the past finds her way Into their life, what misfortune will it bring to them? Will their love become happily ever after?

  He trailed his hand down her face as it flushed instantly, emotions that seemed uncontrolled blooming out.   "I love you. You know that right?", he asked, his eyes looking as convincing as ever, as he stared at the naive and lovesick teenage girl in front of him.   " I...," she could not make out her words as her legs turned into jelly, making her lean gently on him.   "I love you too," she managed to say, and those were the words he needed... It was the final year for the 12th graders in GGIS High School. While happy at the approaching conclusion of their Highschool lives, there was also the fact that they may never see one another again. Now, more than ever was the perfect time to express all the feelings or bury them. That wasn't easy to do when surrounded by post-puberty bodies nearly bursting with raging hormones with a liking for unwholesome entertainment in their various lives and secrets of their own. With a rift torn between friends, a locked closet full of skeletons, and choices that could either mend their relationships or rip them apart for the rest of their lives. Will they submit to their urges? Will they come to understand their feelings? And work together to find out what the probable skeletons in the closet are?

I stared at the handsome figure in front of me, emotions I could not control flowing down my body. He held my hand as he looked intently into my eyes. " Michael, let us do this, no one will know about this. I have been dying of the feelings I have for you. Please just say yes, I promise you won't regret it" he assured as I felt a lump in my throat "I... ****** Michael, the most gentle person in the whole school, was noted for his handsomeness, his blameless character, not only that, he is a brilliant fellow, a nerd to be precise. Out of the blues, he started admiring handsome boys in his class. At age 16, he discovered that all his classmates he admired were signs of him having same-sex attraction. He became mortified, guilty, feeling empty for having feelings for the same sex. He was lost in a battle, a battle of dealing with feelings for both the same sex and opposite sex. What will he do in this situation? Who can he trust with this secret and who will help him? What could go wrong when the same-sex becomes attracted to him? Will he give in to the sexual craving? Will he succeed in getting rid of it? Find out in WEIRD FEELING. AUTHORS NOTE: This novel is a good one as it will shed more light on same-sex attraction. I hope you drop your honest review as you read.

For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett. Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid. When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives. "Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself." I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together. Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company. He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life. He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire. I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer. "Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant."

For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties. But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom. Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot. Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years. "You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic." My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support. They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets. I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life. But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree. Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate. When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block.

Rain lashed against the twisted metal as Hallie lay pinned in the wreckage of her car, her chest crushed and fading fast. The paramedic found her phone and desperately dialed her husband, Aidan. "Your wife has been in a severe car crash! We're losing her!" the paramedic shouted over the storm. A harsh, mocking laugh came through the speaker. "Tell her this is a pathetic way to stop the divorce," Aidan sneered. "I do not have time for her crazy games." The line went dead, and Hallie's heart flatlined. Separated from her body, Hallie's ghost was forced to witness the horrific aftermath of her own death. Her mother refused to claim her corpse because there was no insurance payout, telling the hospital to throw her in a ditch. Pulled back to her penthouse, she found Aidan gently holding her sister, Cecile. Cecile sobbed about Hallie's "fake crash" in Aidan's arms, but the moment he looked away, a wicked smirk of victory spread across her face. Cecile was the predator, and Aidan was her willing protector. He even ordered Hallie's brilliant, life's-work sketchbook to be thrown into an industrial shredder, giving all her corporate resources to fund Cecile's debut. Hovering in the cold air, Hallie watched her three years of devotion turn to ash. She was treated like garbage, a mere stepping stone for her sister's rise. But just as her soul turned to ice, Aidan's face suddenly grew paranoid. "Check her medical records," Aidan ordered his assistant coldly. "Find out who is helping her fake this injury." Hallie's invisible spirit shivered with a dark, vengeful anticipation. What would her arrogant husband do when his relentless digging finally uncovered her cold, dead body?

"I've warned you from the beginning. Don't marry him, but you won't listen." Darcy stood close to me and smiled with concern. "You're not a woman worthy of a man as handsome, rich, smart, and virile as Blaze." My whole body trembled at her words. "Have you no shame?" I asked. "Take a good look at yourself, Heather." She stared at me in the mirror. "You can't even glance at your ugly face. Do you think Blaze can endure a lifetime of gazing at that scar?" Heather Bailey got a surprise from her husband: a divorce agreement. After a year of marriage and facing ups and downs, she couldn't believe Blaze intended to divorce her. She was devastated when she saw him gazing lovingly at another woman. After signing the divorce papers, shockwaves caught her up. Her flower shop was burned to the ground. Her father's company collapsed, and her parents blamed her. She struggled to rebuild her life from the ground up and became more successful than ever. Having many customers from influential families, she started her revenge on Blaze. She won the very thing he wanted, but that was just the beginning.

To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears. After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms. "You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive. Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it. When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her? All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss. When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply. "Call her Aunt."

I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart. But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage. When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway. He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop. At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me. They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond. When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue. "Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?" He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests. Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died. To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around. I didn't cry, and I didn't beg. I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival. It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground.

Keely returned to her Manhattan penthouse a day early, expecting the loving billionaire husband who had just told her how much he missed her. Instead, the scent of cheap vanilla perfume led her to the guest room, where she found Haden tangled in the sheets with his timid, soft-spoken secretary. To the world, Haden was the flawless, devoted partner. He would even beat a man to a bloody pulp at a high-society gala just for insulting her, violently claiming he was protecting his wife. But behind his golden-retriever facade lay a narcissistic monster. While begging for her affection and making her breakfast, he was secretly draining their marital assets into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands. Keely had to swallow her disgust, forcing a perfect smile as she played the clueless, dependent trophy wife he wanted her to be. It made her physically sick. She couldn't understand how the man who looked into the camera with eyes full of love just last night could be the same thief plotting to leave her with nothing. Was his violent, suffocating obsession with her just a sick cover for his betrayal? But Haden didn't know his "helpless" wife was actually the ruthless CTO of a tech empire. She had already hacked the home surveillance and traced the missing funds, ready to make him bleed. Then, her private investigator called with a medical report that pushed her revenge to the edge. "Mrs. Jones, Darlene Sutton is six weeks pregnant."

On my wedding day, my fiancé Connor received an urgent phone call. He told me a D-list actress had broken her leg on set, then abandoned me right at the altar. In my past life, I cried until my throat bled, begging him not to leave. But my tears only brought endless humiliation. My mother and adopted sister mocked me, framed me, and forged my signature to steal my multi-million dollar trust fund. They kicked me out of the family estate without a single dime. I ended up freezing to death in the minus-twenty-degree New York blizzard, listening to my mother's voicemail telling me to die in the street as long as I didn't bleed on her carpets. Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why my own blood relatives hated me so much, yet treated an adopted daughter like a precious princess. The only person who showed me any mercy—draping his wool coat over my frozen corpse and giving me a proper burial—was Connor's ruthless, untouchable uncle, Harding Snow. Opening my eyes again, I was back in the bridal suite, right as Connor was rushing out the door. This time, I didn't shed a single tear. I let him run to his actress, then walked straight into the VIP room to face the most feared billionaire on Wall Street. "The wedding proceeds as planned, but the groom's name changes to yours."

The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting. "Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes." Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind. I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack. Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba. How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow? When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE. "Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me."

I was cheated on by my scumbag boyfriend. On the night I got blackout drunk, I married a stranger, and when I woke up, I only found a marriage certificate and a black card. He took care of my scumbag ex for me, gave me a canary diamond ring, but refused to show his face-he only called me baby on video calls. I ran to my best friend's house to hide, only to find that the billionaire next door, who made my heart skip a beat, had the exact same scent as him. My best friend cried and begged me: "He's Augustus, a tyrant who eats people alive!" But only I knew that the man who pressed me against the terrace railing, leaned down to kiss me, and whispered "I'll protect you" softly. Fifty thousand dollars to sneak photos of his private office? I'll go. Not for the money, but to ask him to his face- Gus, how many secrets are you hiding? And how long have you been craving me?