RosyKosy
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RosyKosy's Books and Stories
THE LOVE I MUST HATE
LGBT+ My name is Lisa and I am only attracted to girls. I realized that since the day I began to feel my genitalia. But no one must know about it; not when I live in a religious girls' high school.
It is considered unholy to love a fellow girl. It is against the school rules, and a rumor about it will result in the expulsion of the involved students.
I wouldn't want to be expelled. I fear the humiliation it holds and the disappointment it might bring to my parents.
My parents sent me to this religious school for a sort of cleansing from my abominable choice of sexuality. Although they failed to understand I didn't choose to like girls, I do not want to be expelled back to them or see them hurt more than they are hurting.
So, I dwelled in secret; surviving the co-habitation of other girls until Uriel came along.
I couldn't resist Uriel's sweet sculpted face, endowed body figure, and perfect curvy lips. I couldn't withstand her charm. So, I decided to risk everything and have that 'unholy' relationship with her.
For Uriel, I could face the world and fight, but I didn't consider if Uriel would want the same.
After I kissed her and confessed my feelings, I saw maybe, just maybe, I should have remained in the closet and had my secret buried with me.
Uriel received me with disgust, exposed me to everyone, and had me expelled from school.
My life turned left. I hated myself for years and ended up living in lies about liking men.
Now she is back, apologizing and professing her undying love. Should I believe she reappeared to love me right? Should I embrace my unquenched feelings for her or take on the revenge I've always wanted?
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One Night With Blaze
R.C.Brie15 Blaze Arden Vaughn is an heir of a huge empire, an ace student of medical faculty, very handsome, sweet and nice. His name signifies fire but his heart is as cold as ice.
Ace Daxton Anderson is a known 'one night stand' guy and a bi. A gang leader who won't back down from a gang fight and is not afraid to be bruised just to prove his point.
They are both in the same university but they have their own territory and never knew each other's existence. Until the day that the Ice Prince fixed his cold gaze on the very hot gang leader on the field.
"You want me that bad...that your eyes are screaming it out loud..." Blaze announced with his challenging tone and a calm smile, making Ace's jaw clenched while their gazes locked.
"I can smell your desire even from afar..." Blaze continued with a very subtle smirk, making Ace grit his teeth.
"Who would not...you are Blaze Arden Vaughn...the epitome of perfection...everybody's dream guy" Ace sarcastically responded, a smirk grazed his lips. His jaw clenching in annoyance not with Blaze but with himself.
"So Ace Anderson, want to try, a Blaze Arden Vaughn for tonight?" Blaze smirked as he casually ask, making the grim face of the gang leader looked stunned and dumbfounded.
A one night stand offered by the cold and distant Blaze Arden Vaughn, just one night of pleasure… one night of curiosity.
Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal
Gavin The call came at 7:05 PM on our tenth wedding anniversary.
My husband, David, was in an accident.
At the hospital, he was awake, but a young woman, his assistant Chloe, was holding his hand, acting like his wife.
When I walked in, he looked at me, a blank stranger' s stare, then asked, "Who are you?"
He laughed when I said I was his wife, then demanded security remove me, while Chloe, smiling, pretended to cry.
It wasn't just memory loss; it was a cruel, targeted erasure.
I tried proof, the marriage certificate, but he pushed it away as "just a piece of paper."
Then Chloe waltzed in with his favorite soup, and he defended her when I confronted her.
"She' s the only one who' s been here for me!" he screamed.
He snarled that I was "exhausted, haggard," compared to Chloe, who was "kind and gentle."
My wedding ring, a symbol of our forever, flew from my hand as he slapped it away, clinking under the bed.
"Don' t come back," he said, turning his back on me to comfort Chloe.
Later, I learned why: he had been having an affair with Chloe, his mother's 65th birthday ruined by his absence and her answering his phone.
My world shattered when Mark Johnson, David's estranged best friend, told me what David said: "The fake amnesia was a stroke of genius, right? A clean break."
My husband had faked a brain injury to throw me away.
A car hit me, sending me to the hospital, and I knew what I had to do.
When Mark came in, I looked at him, my face blank, then asked, "Are you… my husband?" Mummery
Gilbert Cannan This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1919 Excerpt: ...loss of humanity. Henceforth she must deal with realities, leaving him to his painted mummery.... She could understand his frenzy, his fury, his despair. \"That will do, Charles,\" she said very quietly. \"I will see what can be done about Mr. Clott, and whatever happens I will see that you are not harmed.... If you like, you can dine with Verschoyle and me tonight. You can come home with me now, while I dress. I am to meet him at the Carlton and then we are going on to the Opera.\" \"Does Verschoyle know?\" \"He knows that you are you and that I am I---that is all he cares about.... He is a good man. If people must have too much money, he is the right man to have it. He would never let a man down for want of money--if the man was worth it.\" \"Ah!\" said Charles, reassured. This was like the old Clara speaking, but with more assurance, a more certain knowledge and less bewildering intuition and guess-work. A Few weeks later, with Verschoyle and a poor relation of his, a Miss Vibart Withers, for chaperone, Clara left London in a 60 h.p. Fiat, which voraciously ate up the Bath Road at the rate of a mile every minute and a half.... It was good to be out of the thick heat of London, invaded by foreigners and provincials and turned into a city of pleasure and summer-frocks, so that its normal life was submerged, its character hidden. The town became as lazy and drowsy a spectacle as a field of poppies over which danced gay and brilliant butterflies. Very sweet was it then to turn away from it, and all that was happening in it, to the sweet air and to fly along between green fields and orchards, through little towns, at intervals to cross the Thames and to feel that with each crossing London lay so much farther away. Henle...