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ennette Lee (1860-1951) created Uncle William, a genial character who has a talent for confounding land sharks and ending up owning most of the property in sight.
"Yes, I'm shif'less. I'm gen'ally considered shif'less," said William Benslow. He spoke in a tone of satisfaction, and hitched his trousers skilfully into place by their one suspender.
His companion shifted his easel a little, squinting across the harbor at the changing light. There was a mysterious green in the water that he failed to find in his color-box.
William Benslow watched him patiently. "Kind o' ticklish business, ain't it?" he said.
The artist admitted that it was.
"I reckon I wouldn't ever 'a' done for a painter," said the old man, readjusting his legs. "It's settin'-work, and that's good; but you have to keep at it steady-like-keep a-daubin' and a-scrapin' and a-daubin' and a-scrapin', day in and day out. I shouldn't like it. Sailin' 's more in my line," he added, scanning the horizon. "You have to step lively when you do step, but there's plenty of off times when you can set and look and the boat just goes skimmin' along all o' herself, with the water and the sky all round you. I've been thankful a good many times the Lord saw fit to make a sailor of me."
The artist glanced a little quizzically at the tumble-down house on the cliff above them and then at the old boat, with its tattered maroon sail, anchored below. "There's not much money in it?" he suggested.
"Money? Dunno's there is," returned the other. "You don't reely need money if you're a sailor."
"No, I suppose not-no more than an artist."
"Don't you need money, either?" The old man spoke with cordial interest.
"Well, occasionally-not much. I have to buy canvas now and then, and colors-"
The old man nodded. "Same as me. Canvas costs a little, and color. I dye mine in magenta. You get it cheap in the bulk-"
The artist laughed out. "All right, Uncle William, all right," he said. "You teach me to trust in the Lord and I'll teach you art. You see that color out there,-deep green like shadowed grass-"
The old man nodded. "I've seen that a good many times," he said. "Cur'us, ain't it?-just the color of lobsters when you haul 'em."
The young man started. He glanced again at the harbor. "Hum-m!" he said under his breath. He searched in his color-box and mixed a fresh color rapidly on the palette, transferring it swiftly to the canvas. "Ah-h!" he said, again under his breath. It held a note of satisfaction.
Uncle William hitched up his suspender and came leisurely across the sand. He squinted at the canvas and then at the sliding water, rising and falling across the bay. "Putty good," he said approvingly. "You've got it just about the way it looks-"
"Just about," assented the young man, with quick satisfaction. "Just about. Thank you."
Uncle William nodded. "Cur'us, ain't it? there's a lot in the way you see a thing."
"There certainly is," said the painter. His brush moved in swift strokes across the canvas. "There certainly is. I've been studying that water for two hours. I never thought of lobsters." He laughed happily.
Uncle William joined him, chuckling gently. "That's nateral enough," he said kindly. "You hain't been seein' it every day for sixty year, the way I hev." He looked at it again, lovingly, from his height.
"What's the good of being an artist if I can't see things that you can't?" demanded the young man, swinging about on his stool.
"Well, what is the use? I dunno; do you?" said Uncle William, genially. "I've thought about that a good many times, too, when I've been sailin'," he went on-"how them artists come up here summer after summer makin' picters,-putty poor, most on 'em,-and what's the use? I can see better ones settin' out there in my boat, any day.-Not but that's better'n some," he added politely, indicating the half-finished canvas.
The young man laughed. "Thanks to you," he said. "Come on in and make a chowder. It's too late to do any more to-day-and that's enough." He glanced with satisfaction at the glowing canvas with its touch of green. He set it carefully to one side and gathered up his tubes and brushes.
Uncle William bent from his height and lifted the easel, knocking it apart and folding it with quick skill.
The artist looked up with a nod of thanks. "All right," he said, "go ahead."
Uncle William reached out a friendly hand for the canvas, but the artist drew it back quickly. "No, no," he said. "You'd rub it off."
"Like enough," returned the old man, placidly. "I gen'ally do get in a muss when there's fresh paint around. But I don't mind my clothes. They're ust to it-same as yourn."
The young man laughed anxiously. "I wouldn't risk it," he said. "Come on."
They turned to the path that zigzagged its way up the cliff, and with bent backs and hinged knees they mounted to the little house perched on its edge.
THE sunlight got in Uncle William’s eyes. He looked up from the map spread on the table before him. Then he got up slowly and crossed to the window and drew down the turkey-red curtain—a deep glow filled the room. Juno, on the lounge, stirred a little and stretched her daws, and drew them in and tucked her head behind them and went on sleeping.
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After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."
Due to the plight of her family, Phoebe had no choice but to embark on the path of selling herself. In an accident, she had a tangled night with Alexander. Everything began to derail, and even if she fled to the ends of the earth, she would still be found by him and entangled... *** Phoebe screamed in frustration, "What do you want from me?" What was this supposed to be? He raised an eyebrow wickedly. "What do I want? You'll find out soon enough." With that, he hoisted her up and carried her back into the office. The door slammed shut with a kick, and he cleared the desk with a sweep of his arm before laying her down on it, his body pinning hers in place, completely trapping her in his grasp. Every cell in his body was telling him he wanted her. He wanted to claim her again. This time, there would be no escape for her-he wouldn't let her slip away. Never again. If he had suffered for five years, then this woman wouldn't get off easily either!
"I, Riccardo Saviano, future Alpha of the Grey Shadow Moon Pack, reject you, Artemisia Guerrieri, Daughter of Alpha Franco of the Blood Moon Pack, as my mate and future Luna." One single sentence. One stupid single sentence was all it took to disintegrate my life. And the day of my birthday, on which this sentence was audaciously uttered to me, I lost the love of my life, my future mate, and my wolf, all at once. As I'm still assembling the pieces of my shattered heart years later, there they come. Like lightning out of a crystal blue sky. My Mates. But wait... If I am mated to triplets, how come I'm about to be mated to 5 gorgeous men? *** TW: explicit and foul language; spicy content; explicit sex scenes ***
Warning! Mature Contents! ***Excerpt*** "You belong to me, Sheila. I alone am capable of making you feel this way. Your moans and body belong to me. Your soul and your body are all mine!" *** Alpha Killian Reid, the most dreaded Alpha in all of the North, wealthy, powerful and widely feared in the supernatural world, was the envy of all other packs. He was thought to have it all... power, fame, wealth and favour from the moon goddess, little was it known to his rivals that he has been under a curse, which has been kept a secret for so many years, and only the one with the gift of the moon goddess can lift the curse. Sheila, the daughter of Alpha Lucius who was an arch enemy to Killian, had grown up with so much hatred, detest and maltreatment from her father. She was the fated mate to Alpha Killian. He refused to reject her, yet he loathed her and treated her poorly, because he was in love with another woman, Thea. But one of these two women was the cure to his curse, while the other was an enemy within. How would he find out? Let's find out in this heart racing piece, filled with suspense, steamy romance and betrayal.
COALESCENCE OF THE FIVE SERIES BOOK ONE: THE 5-TIME REJECTED GAMMA & THE LYCAN KING BOOK TWO: THE ROGUES WHO WENT ROGUE BOOK THREE: THE INDOMITABLE HUNTRESS & THE HARDENED DUKE *** BOOK ONE: After being rejected by 5 mates, Gamma Lucianne pleaded with the Moon Goddess to spare her from any further mate-bonds. To her dismay, she is being bonded for the sixth time. What’s worse is that her sixth-chance mate is the most powerful creature ruling over all werewolves and Lycans - the Lycan King himself. She is certain, dead certain, that a rejection would come sooner or later, though she hopes for it to be sooner. King Alexandar was ecstatic to meet his bonded mate, and couldn’t thank their Goddess enough for gifting him someone so perfect. However, he soon realizes that this gift is reluctant to accept him, and more than willing to sever their bond. He tries to connect with her but she seems so far away. He is desperate to get intimate with her but she seems reluctant to open up to him. He tries to tell her that he is willing to commit to her for the rest of his life but she doesn’t seem to believe him. He is pleading for a chance: a chance to get to know her; a chance to show her that he’s different; and a chance to love her. But when not-so-subtle crushes, jealous suitors, self-entitled Queen-wannabes, an old flame, a silent protector and a past wedding engagement threaten to jeopardize their relationship, will Lucianne and Xandar still choose to be together? Is their love strong enough to overcome everything and everyone? Or will Lucianne resort to enduring a sixth rejection from the one person she thought she could entrust her heart with?