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Unexpected Romance: Love $ Hustle

Twenty-eight year old Delilah Sterling, has perfected the art of being a respectable realtor by day, and a professional gold digger by night. Delilah believes she has her double life under control. Her meticulously crafted life crumbles when she wakes up one morning with a wedding band on her finger, a marriage certificate on the table, and a sinfully gorgeous man claiming to be her husband. To make matters worse, he is broke and jobless, making her feel trapped in a surreal nightmare. Desperate for escape, Delilah demands a divorce, but the stranger—insisting he wants to stay married—thwarts every attempt. Frustration and confusion mount until Delilah hatches a new plan: she proposes they team up to con her next target, the elusive billionaire, Hunter Quinn. What Delilah doesn't realize is that her "broke husband" is actually Hunter Quinn himself. Billionaire CEO, Hunter Quinn, having discovered Delilah’s intentions to con him, had decided to outplay her at her own game. Hunter agrees to the partnership, and together they plunge into a high-stakes game of deceit. As they plot and scheme, the lines between pretense and reality blur. Their forced proximity ignites an unexpected chemistry, leading to moments of vulnerability and genuine connection neither anticipated. Caught in a whirlwind of deception, passion, and power plays, Delilah grapples with their growing feelings. As their con deepens, she must confront the ultimate question: Can she open her heart to love and trust again? ****Exerpt**** Delilah’s eyes darted to the marriage certificate again, the official seal glaring back at her. Her fingers itched to tear it apart, to make this nightmare disappear. But deep down, she knew that wouldn’t change anything. “I don’t remember,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “I don’t remember any of it.” Blake nodded as if he had expected this reaction. “That is expected. You had a lot to drink last night.” he fished out a phone from the back pocket of his trousers, opened it. “Here, this is us celebrating, after we got married last night,” he said, showing her a picture. Delilah’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the photo. It was indeed her. “How?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t remember any of this.” “It was a wild night,” he said softly. Perhaps she had married Blake because he was wealthy. That would be the only logical reason for her to make such a blunder. There was hope, she thought, as she clung to the possibility of salvaging something from this disaster. Turning to him, she forced a smile, “Is this your house? Are we in your house?” She asked, looking around the bedroom. Blake shook his head, “No. This is a hotel,” he said, and she nodded. “I see. It looks like quite an expensive hotel,” she observed, “What do you do for a living?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady as she searched his eyes for any hint of affluence. Blake hesitated, his confident demeanor faltering for the first time. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m... in between jobs,” he stuttered, avoiding her gaze. Delilah’s heart sank, disappointment crashing over her like a wave. “In between jobs?” she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief. Blake seemed to sense her dismay. “I know it doesn’t sound great,” he said quickly, trying to reassure her. “But I’m working on a few things. I just need a little more time.” “You’re jobless,” she muttered to herself as reality sunk in. “How did you pay for this room? For the wedding bands?” She asked, and he winced. “I didn’t. You did,” he said, and she collapsed on the bed. (PS: Cover photo isn’t mine. Credit to the real owner)
Miss_Behaviour · 708.2K Views

She's My Sleeping Pill

15 years ago, his elder brother was killed right in front of him in the middle of the night – killed by their most trusted driver. Since then, Stefan had a hard time sleeping and often got nightmares. He learned not to trust anyone. Cayenne worked almost all day and all night. She only got three hours of sleep every day. She was the breadwinner of their family since her mother was diagnosed with tuberculosis. She thought she would have a great time working as a receptionist in a hotel. Until… “I’ll pay you an additional $3000 a month. Sleep with me.” Stefan placed a signed check on the table in front of her. Her head was spinning at the large sum of money. She can finally buy her mother’s medication and send her brothers to school without worry. But to sleep with him? “I’m sorry if I come off rude but, I can’t sleep with you sir.” She tried to refuse politely, afraid that she will lose her job if he felt displease towards her. Stefan took off his coat and placed on the backrest of his chair. “Think about my offer carefully. It wasn’t so bad sleeping with you after all.” It was a mistake she made on her part when she fell asleep right beside him on his bed, drunk and dizzy. Will he make the mistake of trusting someone again? Will he entrust his life to her by sleeping soundly beside her? How will they face each other when they started to unveil the mystery of their identities? ***cover isn’t mine***edited by a friend***I don’t earn anything from this picture*** Original cover was taken from Mr Love: Queen's Choice Related videos and pictures can be seen in Koi to Producer: EVOL×LOVE
_frieyaVida · 2.6M Views

To Sleep In The Sea Of Time

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling
man_of_culture3030 · 681.5K Views
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