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Get the APPPUSSY MANIA
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Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire. I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper. I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock. I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim. "If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned. So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months. Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout. But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back.
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Sweet Pussy
Lonely, sex-deprived, and horny could pretty much sum up the lives of Preshy. Preshy desired to be licked in places guys never knew existed. Preshy wanted all of her misery to be sexed away, while Liz was a girl that wanted to have fun. Mike is nothing more than a vivid fantasy that comes equipped w
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Forbidden Mania
Mishka Basu never asked for much, just a quiet life, free from the whispers of a past she never chose. But fate has other plans when Arsh Malhotra storms into her world, a man who is both her salvation and her ruin. He is chaos wrapped in charm, a man who loves like a madman, possessive, untamed, a
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His Mania
"leave me" she whispered in a heavy voice. " never gattina" he spoke huskily while moving his fingers along her thigh which made her shiver. " i..i...am..m...not..y..yours" she stuttered, enjoying the havoc creating in her body by his calloused fingers. Suddenly he wrapped his sexy digits again
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WET PUSSY
On the rain-soaked streets of Blackthorn City, whispers follow a drenched black cat the locals call Wet Pussy. To some, it's just a stray. To others, it's an omen. But to one woman, its sudden appearance at her doorstep marks the beginning of a nightmare. After a stormy night leaves her staring at
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The Black Death, and The Dancing Mania
The account of "The Black Death" here translated by Dr. Babington was Hecker's first important work of this kind. It was published in 1832, and was followed in the same year by his account of "The Dancing Mania." The books here given are the two that first gave Hecker a wide reputation. Please Note
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