Sweetheart Morning Quotes

Good morning, sweetheart." "I like that," I say quietly, smiling even though he can't see it. "I like it when you call me sweetheart." He laughs then, his shoulders shaking as he does. He rolls onto his back, arms stretched out at his sides. God, he looks so good without his clothes on.

Good morning sweetheart.

Morning, sweetheart,

One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight, But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light. Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.

Like the sound of a velvet curtain being drawn aside on a peaceful morning to let sunlight wake someone very special to you.

Hey, senorita, want to throw back some margaritas with me?" Maya gave him a scornful look as only Maya could. "Who the hell are you?" "Your dream come true, sweetheart." "I might puke." Maya shoved past him, her toolbox just missing his groin. "It's too early in the morning for assholes.

We’ll fix it in the morning, sweetheart. You can’t save the world after 1:00 a.m. Not even you.

Trent Vincent Andrews!” came a voice from inside the condo. “What was that?” Harper jumped. Trent grimaced. The morning was about to get a lot more entertaining. “Are you home, sweetheart?” Harper’s eyes went wide. “Vincent?” Trent jumped off the bed and threw the cover over Harper. “My mom shows up, you’re naked, I have a raging hard-on, and yet you focus on my middle name?

But doesn't every precious era feel like fiction once it's gone? After a while, certain vestigial sayings are all that remain. Decades after the invention of the automobile, for instance, we continue to warn each other not to 'put the cart before the horse'. So, too, we do still have 'day'dreams and 'night'mares, and the early-morning clock hours are still known colloquially (if increasing mysteriously) as 'the crack of dawn'. Similarly, even as they grew apart, my parents never stopped calling each other 'sweetheart'.

Your daughter went to bed on the eve of her thirteenth birthday as a sweetheart, and woke up the next morning a bitch. You never stopped loving her, but goddamn, you had a lot of days when you didn’t like her. At all.

What season?” I asked. “A delayed adolescence, I guess. When I get up in the morning and see my face in the mirror, it looks like someone else’s. If I’m not careful, I might end up left behind.

Since the lovely morning of that day, we were sweethearts.

To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: HAPPY CHRISTMAS Have you gotten used to the time difference? Bloody hell,I can't sleep. I'd call,but I don't know if you're awake or doing the family thing or what. The bay fog is so thick that I can't see out my window.But if I could, I am quite certain I'd discover that I'm the only person alive in San Francisco. To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: I forgot to tell you. Yesterday I saw a guy wearing an Atlanta Film Festival shirt at the hospital.I asked if he knew you,but he didn't.I also met an enormous,hair man in a cheeky Mrs. Claus getup. he was handing out gifts to the cancer patients.Mum took the attached picture. Do I always look so startled? To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: Are you awake yet? Wake up.Wake up wake up wake up. To: Etienne St. Clair From: Anna Oliphant Subject: re: Are you awake yet? I'm awake! Seany started jumping on my bed,like,three hours ago. We've been opening presents and eating sugar cookies for breakfast. Dad gave me a gold ring shaped like a heart. "For Daddy's sweetheart," he said. As if I'm the type of girl who'd wear a heart-shaped ring. FROM HER FATHER. He gave Seany tons of Star Wars stuff and a rock polishing kit,and I'd much rather have those.I can't beleive Mom invited him here for Christmas. She says it's because their divorce is amicable (um,no) and Seany and I need a father figure in our lives,but all they ever do is fight.This morning it was about my hair.Dad wants me to dye it back, because he thinks I look like a "common prostitute," and Mom wants to re-bleach it.Like either of them has a say. Oops,gotta run.My grandparents just arrived,and Granddad is bellowing for his bonnie lass.That would be me. P.S. Love the picture.Mrs. Claus is totally checking out your butt. And it's Merry Christmas, weirdo. To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: HAHAHA@ Was it a PROMISE RING? Did your father give you a PROMISE RING? To: Etienne St. Clair From: Anna Oliphant Subject: Re: HAHAHA! I am so not responding to that.

Peter’s gone away on his training weekend. It’s only been one day and I’m already longing for him the way I long for Christmas in July. Peter is my cocoa in a cup, my red mittens, my Christmas morning feeling.

There’s nothing gentlemanly about the way I’m going to fuck you, sweetheart.

From morning until sunset — and sometimes by moonlight — the surfer dudes ride waves onto shore worried about nothing more than impressing the gorgeous girls watching them. Sometimes those bikini-clad California sweethearts let a boy get to second base to a romantic Leslie Gore or Connie Francis song. If she's really in-love, and trusts him not to tell his buddies, she'll let him round third and wave him home. When that happens, it usually isn't long before Nautica is all abuzz about an impending beach wedding.

For a moment an agreeable aftertaste remained, but after a few seconds this disappeared, like morning dew on a summer leaf.

I’ll take care of this pretty little pussy anytime you want, sweetheart. Anytime she wants to be licked, I’ll be here to lick it and make you come. Eating this pussy is going to be my new favorite meal. Anytime she wants to be stuffed with my fat bull cock, I’ll be here to fuck you so good you won’t be able to remember your own name. I’m going to spoil you rotten, Violet. I’m going to spoil this cunt every way I can . . . all you need to do is tell me what you need.

You want me to chase you, sweetheart?” he said, not hiding his sarcasm. “Because I will. If that’s what you need. But I want you in my bed. I want to wrap myself around you and wake up to you in the morning.

Get your filthy hands off me." Jake arched an eyebrow, not bothering to hide the smile that rose in response to her throaty growl. "My hands are clean, sweetheart. Habit of the trade. Aren't you a nasty little ogre in the morning?

You bring the morning with you. You’re the light, sweetheart. When you walk into a room, I can’t see the shadows. There is nothing in this world that could persuade me to send you away if I thought you wanted me half as much as I want you.

My little brother's greatest fear was that the one person who meant so much to him would go away. He loved Lindsey and Grandma Lynn and Samuel and Hal, but my father kept him stepping lightly, son gingerly monitoring father every morning and every evening as if, without such vigilance, he would lose him. We stood- the dead child and the living- on either side of my father, both wanting the same thing. To have him to ourselves forver. To please us both was an impossibility. ... 'Please don't let Daddy die, Susie,' he whispered. 'I need him.' When I left my brother, I walked out past the gazebo and under the lights hanging down like berries, and I saw the brick paths branching out as I advanced. I walked until the bricks turned to flat stones and then to small, sharp rocks and then to nothing but churned earth for miles adn miles around me. I stood there. I had been in heaven long enough to know that something would be revealed. And as the light began to fade and the sky to turn a dark, sweet blue as it had on the night of my death, I saw something walking into view, so far away I could not at first make out if it was man or woman, child or adult. But as moonlight reached this figure I could make out a man and, frightened now, my breathing shallow, I raced just far enough to see. Was it my father? Was it what I had wanted all this time so deperately? 'Susie,' the man said as I approached and then stopped a few feet from where he stood. He raised his arms up toward me. 'Remember?' he said. I found myself small again, age six and in a living room in Illinois. Now, as I had done then, I placed my feet on top of his feet. 'Granddaddy,' I said. And because we were all alone and both in heaven, I was light enough to move as I had moved when I was six and in a living room in Illinois. Now, as I had done then, I placed my feet on top of his feet. 'Granddaddy,' I said. And because we were all alone and both in heaven, I was light enough to move as I had moved when I was six and he was fifty-six and my father had taken us to visit. We danced so slowly to a song that on Earth had always made my grandfather cry. 'Do you remember?' he asked. 'Barber!' 'Adagio for Strings,' he said. But as we danced and spun- none of the herky-jerky awkwardness of Earth- what I remembered was how I'd found him crying to this music and asked him why. 'Sometimes you cry,' Susie, even when someone you love has been gone a long time.' He had held me against him then, just briefly, and then I had run outside to play again with Lindsey in what seemed like my grandfather's huge backyard. We didn't speak any more that night, but we danced for hours in that timeless blue light. I knew as we danced that something was happening on Earth and in heaven. A shifting. The sort of slow-to-sudden movement that we'd read about in science class one year. Seismic, impossible, a rending and tearing of time and space. I pressed myself into my grandfather's chest and smelled the old-man smell of him, the mothball version of my own father, the blood on Earth, the sky in heaven. The kumquat, skunk, grade-A tobacco. When the music stopped, it cold have been forever since we'd begun. My grandfateher took a step back, and the light grew yellow at his back. 'I'm going,' he said. 'Where?' I asked. 'Don't worry, sweetheart. You're so close.' He turned and walked away, disappearing rapidly into spots and dust. Infinity.

Your daughter went to bed on the eve of her thirteenth birthday as a sweetheart, and woke up the next morning a bitch. You never stopped loving her, but goddamn, you had a lot of days when you didn’t like her. At all. Eighth grade to sophomore year, Alex often referred to Deane as “the exchange student.

Now, we’re doing this at my pace this morning. Mornings are supposed to be lazy. Morning sex is slow sex. So, you tell me. Do you want to have sex with me this morning, sweetheart?

Of course she loved the komita more -- he must have been her sweetheart, her first big love. Most likely, they made plans together, imagined a little house, a pair of children. She wouldn't keep his diary for so many years otherwise. And then, with their love peaking, he was killed. I know that much without yet having read the end. At first she felt betrayed. He'd put some strange ideals, brotherhood and freedom, before his love for her. She hated him for that. But then one morning, almost a year after his death, the postman brought a package with foreign stamps. She read the diary, still hating him. She read it every day. She learned each letter by heart, and with the months her hatred thinned, and in the end his death turned their love ideal, doomed not to die. Yes, that's what I've come to think now. Their love was foolish, childish, sugar-sweet, the kind of love that, if you are lucky to lose it, flares up like a thatched roof but burns as long as you live. While our love...I am her husband, she is my wife.

anything from smiling and saying good morning with gusto to leaving little notes in briefcases or lunchboxes; from going the extra mile on a project to doing an extra house chore without being asked; from leaving a thoughtful note of appreciation on a coworker’s desk to meeting your sweetheart at work with surprise tickets to an evening concert “just because.” Giving is the path for doing this. I believe that the only currency that truly matters in an uncertain world is the kindness and generosity passed from one human being to another.

Of course I’m not writing a novel here. I don’t know what to call it. Just writing. I’m thinking aloud, so there’s no need to wrap things up neatly. I have no moral obligations. I’m merely—hmm—thinking. I haven’t done any real thinking for the longest time, and probably won’t for the foreseeable future. But right now, at this very moment, I am thinking. And that’s what I’m going to do until morning. Think.

wall.  His forehead touched mine as he gripped my hips, shifting until he was poised back at the core of me.  “I’m fucking done with this record deal if it means I’m losing your trust.  This is forever for me, sweetheart.  I want it all with you.  You’re the thing that gets me up in the morning and lets me rest easy at night.  I wouldn’t have survived some of the shit these last few months if it weren’t for you.  You’re my rock, Danika, and I need you to trust me.

Touch the stone,' said Beliah, 'and you will touch "reality", or what the ignorant of all ages think "reality" is. That kind of truth will kill you, man. You won't see morning! I have kept you all your life from such things as remorse, terror, pity. Touch the stone, and those same angels will change you into an old poor pathetic deluded dying creature. Hubert, a nurse has to shave you, your hand shakes so much. You know that don't you? You dribble at every orifice, Hubert. You've begun to smell this past year or two...' He suddenly howled as if I had actually touched the stone,'YOU WILL BE RAVAGED IN FIRES OF GRACE!' I heard Nurse McGregor in the next ward. 'Good evening,' came her cheerful voice to the looney who had strangled his sweetheart and then buried her in his garden. 'Is it cocoa tonight, or tea, or milk?" Beliah was weeping. Outside the eaves dripped. The whole earth was drenched with the grief of Beliah. He wept inside me. I felt his marvellous tears on my face.

You’ll definitely find one or two of the maids walking about tomorrow morning with their hands over their eyes for fear they’ll see the wrong man before they meet up with their sweethearts.” He gestured to Gabe. “That joker there likes to ask them to pick something up, just to see if they can do it with their eyes closed. He’s a devil that way.” “It serves them right to be thwarted if they’re foolish enough to participate in such a ridiculous superstition.” Mrs. Plumtree said with a snort. “I’d never let any of my servants do it. It smacks of country ignorance.” “I think it’s romantic,” Celia said dreamily. “You let Fate choose your mate. The stars align, and suddenly you’re confronted with the man of your dreams.” “Or the man of your nightmares,” Maria bit out, thinking of how Fate had thrown her into Oliver’s power a week ago. “Fate can be rather fickle in that respect, if you ask me. I wouldn’t trust Fate with my future.” Minerva eyed her over her glass of wine. “Probably a wise policy.

Before opening them, I slowly looked around the room. Sumire’s coat was hanging in the closet. I saw her goggles, her Italian dictionary, her passport. Inside the desk were her ballpoint pen and mechanical pencil. In the window above the desk the gentle, craggy slope was visible. A black cat was walking on top of the wall of the house next door. The bare little boxy room was enveloped in the late-afternoon silence. I closed my eyes and could still hear the waves on the deserted beach that morning. I opened my eyes again, and this

If your daughter kills herself, whose business is that? When you think you know what’s best for her, it’s not love. How can you know what’s best for her? How can you know that life would be better for her than death? You would deprive her of her whole path. Who do you think you are? There’s no respect there. If my daughter is going to take her life and I know about it, I’m going to speak to her and offer myself in whatever way she thinks would be useful. And if she has killed herself, I’m not going to think, Sweetheart, you should have stayed here for my sake. I know you were suffering abominably, but you really should have stayed here and suffered so that I wouldn’t feel terrible. Is that love? Do you really want her to live in the torture chamber of her own mind? When our suffering gets too intense, we can inquire, and if we don’t have inquiry, some of us just knock out our painful thoughts with a gun or pills or whatever it takes, but we have to shut this system down. And it’s hell to open your eyes in the morning when you have this painful thought system going.

His (my father's) general belief in life's well-being worked either way. 'Have you ever had it before? You have? It's not going to kill you, then. If you've had the same thing before, you'll be alright in the morning.' My mother couldn't have more profoundly disagreed with that. 'You're such an optimist, dear,' she often said with a sigh. 'You're a good deal of a pessimist, sweetheart.' 'I certainly am.' And yet, I was well aware as I stood between them, he the optimist was the one who was prepared for the worst, and she the pessimist was the daredevil.

TO MY BELOVED, Its neither a piece of paper nor a letter, rather it's my small heart which I'm gifting it to you darling.It seems time stood still without ur presence around me. My days and nights have gone worthless. All my heart could do is to recall the memories of time which we have spend together. My heart gets rejoiced whenever your beautiful face comes before my eyes. Your mesmerizing eyes drive me to another world. Your flowing hair looks tantalizing and your rosy lips seems to be meant only for saying lovely words. While having a cup of coffee yesterday, numerous moments striked my heart. Our first meeting, when you were looking like a fairy in white salwar-suit. Still fresh in my mind, your pretty smile and bowing your head down to laugh with your hand on your lips. I confess that your every action was stealing my heart and I couldn't withdraw myself from lookig you. The gift you presented me on my birthday gives me a sigh of relief that you are always there with me. Sweetheart, In the classroom, I cracked useless jokes and PJ's just to see your charming smile. Kept gazing your lips, just to heat some golden words. You had stolen my heart. Dedicated '' I don't know when and how you arrived in my life, Don't know when my heart star beating for you, day n night.... My eyes kept staring the window pane, Wishing one day u'll come in my lane.... Darling you're the only one whom I admire, It's you whom my heart desperately desires... Being with you is my only need, You are now the medicine of my heartbeat... I Craved your name on my heart, The day when I decided not to loose you ever, And I promise you sweetheart that, I love you & i'll love you for ever, ever n ever...... It's true my baby that, i love you like anything. Miss you from very morning 2 the night. MY senses are active to feel you, to hear you, to see you, to taste every sorrow and happiness of your life. Jaana, get embedded in me, in my soul so that i can live with you, for you........ Dying to have your reply..... Truly Your's PK

Aye, Claudia. You are mine, and I protect what is mine. Our children will never know the fear you have lived with all these years." He brushed his thumb across her lower lip. "In time I will make you forget your fears and replace them with smiles. I want sleepy smiles when you wake up in my arms each morning. Sensual smiles when you arouse my passions at night. Playful smiles when you tell me I am pigheaded in my business ventures." He kissed the corners of her mouth, gentle, undemanding kisses that melted her resistance. "That is one of the reasons I would marry you, sweetheart. Your smiles make me feel things I have never felt before. They are as addictive as a fine wine, and just as rare. I want them all.

Never took you for someone so naughty." "Looks can be deceiving." "Ah, such a fucking smart mouth." "Face it, you love my smart mouth." "Hmm..." "What?" "Just thinking about all the things I want to do to that smart mouth." Her breath hitches in her throat. "You---" "Tell me what I'm thinking right now. If you guess right, maybe we'll make it happen." Eden's face fills with heat, her heart pounding in her chest. Her brain is about to melt. There are so many possibilities, so many scenarios. But one look from him, and she's a goner. Her tongue is a twisted knot. The fire pooling in the pit of her stomach has her unraveling at the seams. Alexander might have just broken her. Alexander can sense her struggle and chuckles, tenderly kissing her cheek. "What are you being so shy for? You started it, sweetheart. Come on, venture a guess." "What if I guess wrong?" "I doubt you will." He presses his forehead to hers, the tips of their noses bumping up against one another. "Say it," he whispers against her lips. "Say it." "I think..." Eden takes a deep but shaky breath. "I think you want to fuck me." "Among other things." She looks deep into his eyes and reads him like a book. "I think you want to fuck me hard. And then soft. All night, and then all morning. On my back. On my knees. You want to taste me. You want me to taste you." "I think you want me to make you beg," he says, still soft and only loud enough for her alone to hear. "You want to be taken against a wall. In my bed. On the fucking floor. You want me to make you tremble. You want to be fucked so good, your voice gives out. You want to feel sore in the morning. Isn't that right, Eden?" "Yes," she gasps, the word bubbling past her lips without a second thought.

There was a present on the front seat of Ethan's car, a Gap box tied with a white ribbon. "Happy birthday, Jenna," Ethan said, leaning over to kiss me, his lips cool from the iced chai he stopped for every morning. I opened the box and pulled out an orange sweater with a cream-colored stripe down the arms. "Thank you. I love it." "I know," he said, pulling away from the curb. "That's what you said when you handed it to me at the store and told me to get it for your birthday." "I'm sorry," I said, holding the sweater in my lap. I knew he was just teasing, but I wanted to be the kind of person who could enjoy surprises. I wanted to be as spontaneous and free as everyone else seemed to be and not feel all the time like if I didn't follow some kind of specific map of daily life, disaster would be right there waiting. "I just...really liked it." "And wanted to make sure you got it," he said, smiling. "So basically you're greedy." "Basically.

Half inebriated, he vaulted up the stairs to find them lolling in chairs in the hall outside Maria’s door. Gabe clasped a bunch of violets in his hand while Jarret held a rolled-up piece of parchment in his. “What are you two louts doing here in the middle of the night?” he growled. “It’s nearly dawn,” Gabe said coolly. “Hardly the middle of the night. Not that you would have noticed, in your drunken state.” Scowling, Oliver took a step toward them. “It’s still earlier than you, at least, every rise.” Gabe glanced at Jarret. “Clearly, the old boy doesn’t remember what today is.” “I believe you’re right,” Jarret returned, a hint of condemnation in his tone. Oliver glared at them both as he sifted through his soggy brain for what they menat. When it came to him, he groaned. St. Valentine’s Day. That sobered him right up. “That doesn’t explain why you’re lurking outside Maria’s door.” Jarret cast him a scathing glance as he got to his feet. “Why do you care? You ran off to town to find your entertainment. Seems to me that you’re relinquishing the field.” “So you two intend to step in?” he snapped. “Why not?” Gabe rose to glower at him. “Since your plan to thwart Gran isn’t working, and it’s looking as if we’ll have to marry someone, we might as well have a go at Miss Butterfield. She’s an heiress and a very nice girl, too, in case you hadn’t noticed If you’re stupid enough to throw her over for a bunch of whores and opera dancers, we’re more than happy to take your place. We at least appreciate her finer qualities.” The very idea of his brothers appreciating anything of Maria’s made his blood boil. “In the first place, I didn’t throw her over for anyone. In the second, I am damned well not relinquishing the field. And I’m certainly not giving it over to a couple of fortune hunters like you.” The sound of footsteps coming down the hall from the servants’ stairs made them whirl in that direction. Betty walked slowly toward them, one hand shading her eyes. That’s when it hit him. His brothers were here because of that silly superstition about a maiden’s heart being joined to that of whoever was the first man she spotted on St. Valentine’s Day. “Good morning, gentlemen,” Betty murmured as she approached, carefully avoiding looking at any of them. A devilish grin lit Gabe’s face. “Betty, catch!” he cried and tossed a violet at her. She didn’t even move a finger to stop it from bouncing off her and falling to the floor. “If your lordships will excuse me,” she said in a decidedly snippy tone, “my mistress rang the bell for me.” With a sniff that conveyed her contempt for them, she slipped inside Maria’s rom and shut the door firmly behind her. “That was shameful,” Jarret told Gabe. “You know bloody well that Betty and John are sweethearts.” “It’s not my fault that John didn’t show up this morning so she could see him first,” Gabe said with a shrug.

Or are you suggesting you'd rather exchange passionate letters by candlelight? Should I tell you that when we're apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I've just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all? I think perhaps Hamilton said it better in a letter to Eliza: You engross my thoughts too intirely to allow me to think of any thing else- you not only employ my mind all day; but you intrude upon my sleep. I meet you in every dream- and when I wake I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness. We can't change the world, and a lot of time we can't even change people. No more than one bit at a time. So we do what we can to help whenever we get the chance, sweetheart. We save those we can. We do our best. Then we try to find a way to convince ourselves that that will just have to...be enough. So we can live with our failures without drowning.

You look pretty, Mommy.” “Thank you, sweetheart,” I say, gazing at her in the reflection of the mirror as she watches me, her expression curious. I pat the counter beside the sink, inviting her to join me, and she climbs up to sit on it as I grab a tube of lip-gloss, strawberry flavored. She puckers up, and I put some on her, smiling as I do it. “You know I love you, right, pretty girl? I love you more than everything. More than the trees and the birds and the sky. More than even pepperoni pizza and Harlequin novels.” “What’s a Harley-Quinn novel?” “Nothing you’ll need to know about for a long, long time,” I say, putting the lip-gloss away. “Just know that I don’t love them nearly as much as I love you.” She kicks her feet, grinning. “I love you, too.” “More than chocolate ice cream and Saturday mornings?” “Uh-huh,” she says. “More than colors and money!” “No way.” “And the Yoo-Hoo drinks and Happy Meal toys.” “Whoa.” “And even more than Breezeo!” Eyes wide, I look at her. That’s some serious commitment coming from my superhero-loving girl. “You know, you can love us the same.” “Nuh-uh,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re my mommy, so I love you more.” I press my pointer finger to the tip of her nose. “Well, I sure appreciate it, but remember that it’s okay if you ever do.

How's your room?" "You could see for yourself if you popped in." "Is that a line?" "I don't know. Is it? Do you feel the compulsion to rush over to room 306 and see me right now? I promise I'll make it worth your while." "Sorry, no compulsion." "Too bad." He lowered his voice. "I'm still sore from hefting all those heavy platters in Auckland, and if you want me at the top of my beefcake game for your shoot tomorrow, you could give me that massage." She laughed, a joyous sound that shot straight to his heart. Head. Gut. Wherever. "Nice try, but I'll pass." "Your loss, sweetheart. Just think, you could be here right now, having me splayed on the bed at your mercy, all that bare skin to explore, running your hands over my pectorals, my biceps, my latissimus dorsi---" "I hope that's not a fancy anatomical term for anything below the waist." He guffawed, enjoying their sparring way too much. "You sure I haven't tempted you?" She hesitated for a moment, before replying. "Maybe a little, but I really have to prep for tomorrow. I'm meeting with the head chef in thirty minutes to run through the dishes, then I'll need a few hours to go through my planning." "Anything I can do to help?" "Just bring the beefcake at eight sharp in the morning." "Yes, ma'am." "And Manny?" "Yeah?" "If I ever lose my mind and decide to give you a massage, I'll be starting at your very impressive gluteus maximus.

Syn pulled his boxers on and quietly left the bedroom, walking angrily to the kitchen. He turned the corner and wanted to throw a shit-fit at the sight before him. Day was standing at his stove loading some type of egg dish onto a plate before turning and setting it in front of God. God folded down one side of his newspaper, peering at Syn from behind it. “Well good morning, sunshine,” Day said way too cheerily for five-fucking-a.m. “We brought breakfast.” Syn clenched his jaw, trying not to yell at his superior officers. “Have you two lost your fuckin’ minds? Come on. It’s, it’s ... early.” Syn turned his wrist, forgetting he didn’t have his watch on yet. “Damn, you guys are always at the office, or at a crime scene, or over fucking here at god-awful hours.” “Oh, it’s early?” Day said disbelievingly. God shrugged like he hadn’t realized either. “Seriously. When the fuck do you guys sleep?” “Never,” God said nonchalantly. “When do you fuck?” Syn snapped. “Always,” Day quipped. “Just did thirty minutes ago. Nice couch by the way, real comfy, sorry for the stain.” Syn tiredly flipped Day off. “Don’t be pissed,” Day sing-songed. “A dab of Shout will get that right out.” Syn rubbed angrily at his tired eyes, growling, “Day.” “He’s not in a joking mood, sweetheart,” God said from behind his paper. “You know we didn’t fuck on your couch so calm the hell down. Damn you’re moody in the morning. Unless ... We weren’t interrupting anything, were we? So, how’s porn boy?” God’s gruff voice filled the kitchen, making Syn cringe. “First of all. Don’t fucking call him that, ever, and damnit God. Lower your voice. Shit. He’s still asleep,” Syn berated his Lieutenant, who didn’t look the slightest bit fazed by Syn’s irritation. “You guys could let him sleep, he’s had a rough night, ya know.” Day leaned his chest against God’s large back, draping his arms over his shoulders. “Oh damn, what kind of friends are we? It was rough, huh?” Day looked apologetic. “Yes, it was, Day. He just–” “Try water-based lube next time,” Day interrupted, causing God to choke on his eggs. “Day, fuck.” Syn tried not to grin, but when he thought about it, it really was funny. “I knew I’d get you to smile. Have some breakfast Sarge, we gotta go question the crazy chicks. You know how much people feel like sharing when they’ve spent a night in jail.” “Damn. Alright, just let me–” “Wow. Something smells great.” Furi’s deep voice reached them from down the hall as he made his way to the kitchen. “You cook babe? Who knew? I’ll have the Gladiator portion.” Furi used his best Roman accent as he sauntered into the kitchen with his hands on hips and his head high. Syn turned just as Furi noticed God and Day. “Oh, fuck, shit, Jesus Christ!” Furi stumbled, his eyes darting wildly between all of them. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” Furi looked at Syn trying to gauge exactly how much he’d fucked up just now. Syn smiled at him and Furi immediately lost the horrified expression. Syn held his hand out and mouthed to him 'it's okay.

She drops the singsong thing. “I do go to school, Krissy. I didn’t quit.” Ow. “You know what I think? I think you’re under a lot of pressure, with a baby coming and making your first record. Maybe it makes you want to go back to a time before you had all these stresses in your life.” She is blowing me off. “So you’re a psychology major after all.” She doesn’t laugh. “I’m going to give you some advice now.” No shit. “Don’t ever run away from your commitments. You’ll have more options open to you if you don’t run away. Does that make sense?” I say nothing. I shouldn’t have said that I ran away. I should have put it differently. ‘I’ve come to a decision’ or something dramatical like that. Then she’d be on my side, welcoming me back, not lecturing me. “We all have a snake,” Betty continues, and right now you need to -“ “What?” It’s like she slapped me. “I said we all have a snake and yours is -“ “We all have a what?” My head’s pounding along with my heart. “I don’t mean it literally. I’m just trying to say that if you don’t face -“ “Did you say we all have snakes? Why did you say that?” She sighs. “Krissy, if you’d let me finish, I could tell you.” I sit, stunned. I never told her about the snake. “I have a snake and you have a snake. We all have to face our demons some day, sweetheart, and that day’ll be the scariest you ever lived. Then you’ll wake up the next morning and realise your snake is still there, that you have to face your demons again. But it won’t be so scary this time. Once you see your shadow, you’ll realise that the rest of your life will be spent staring it down, but you know what?” “What?” “You can do it.” “Yeah. Thanks, Betty.” Christ. “Krissy, you have a calling, so make this record. If you hate it, you never have to make another record again.” She doesn’t understand. I slide to the floor. The [university student campaign] issue girls turn around to stare at me, their clipboards at their sides. “Promise?” I ask. “I promise,” says Betty. “If this record’s as bad as you think it is,” she says cheerfully, “you won’t be allowed to make another one!

Morning sweetheart," he said quietly, thinking it was Sarah who'd kissed him awake. "What time is it? I guess I better get up huh? We've got a long drive ahead of us today." "From what I hear, you were up quite a bit last night," Tina said, smiling at him sweetly. He opened his eyes then and sat up quickly. "Oh...hi, uh...good morning. Jeez I'm sorry, I thought you were Sarah," he said quickly. "Wait...you were kissing me again? God Tina, we can't keep doing that. If Sarah finds out...," he said, but he didn't get to finish. "Sarah already knows," Sarah said, leaning against the door jam with her coffee in her hand, as well as a second cup that she'd brought for him. Jarrod actually fell out of bed he was so shocked by her sudden appearance. It was heartbreaking how incredibly guilty he looked. "Oh god, sweetie I was asleep, I swear. I didn't do it on purpose," he said quickly. "Didn't you? You mean you don't enjoy kissing her?" Sarah asked, really enjoying this little game. "Well, yeah...I mean...oh jeez." "You're not sure? Maybe you should kiss her again, and then you can decide," Sarah said. Tina just smiled and then pooched her lips out at him. "Come on you guys, I just woke up. Please don't mess with me, it's too early for that." "Tell me something," Sarah said. "Who did you have sex with last night?" Jarrod just stood there looking confused. "Uh...you. You were here for it right?" he said finally. "Yeah, I was, but it was really Tina you were doing all night, wasn't it? She looked damn good in that outfit, didn't she?" That did it. Now his face turned beet red and he just stood there, naked and looking incredibly guilty. "It's ok sweetie, I don't mind...really. Now here, drink your coffee and get ready. We have a big day ahead of us," she said as she handed him his coffee and gave him a kiss. "Wait...what? God I'm so confused," he said. "I would be too if I was standing in front of two girls naked with a cup of coffee in my hand. Careful you don't spill it. You might burn something you'll be needing later," Sarah laughed as both her and Tina walked out the door and headed back to the kitchen. Jarrod just stood there in a state of total confusion, wondering what the hell just happened.

Something diseased and furry had crawled into her mouth and expired while she slept. That was the only possible explanation as to why Neve had a rancid taste in her mouth and a heavy, viscous paste coating her teeth and tongue. ‘I think I’m dying,’ she groaned. The wretched state of her mouth was the least of it. There was a pounding in her head, echoed in the roiling of her gut, and her bones ached, her vital organs ached, her throat ached, even her hair follicles ached. ‘You’re not dying,’ said a voice in her ear, which sounded like nails scraping down a blackboard, even though Max’s voice had barely risen above a whisper. ‘You’ve got a hangover.’ Neve had had hangovers before and they just made her feel a tiny bit nauseous and grouchy. This felt like the bastard child of bubonic plague and the ebola virus. ‘Dying,’ she reiterated, and now she realised that she was in bed, which had been a very comfy bed the last time she’d slept in it, but now it felt as if she was lying on a pile of rocks, and even though she had the quilt and Max’s arm tucked around her, she was still cold and clammy. Neve tried to raise her head but her gaze collided with the stripy wallpaper and as well as searing her retinas, it was making her stomach heave. ‘Sick. Going to be sick.’ ‘Sweetheart, I don’t think so,’ Max said, stroking the back of her neck with feather-soft fingers. ‘You’ve already thrown up just about everything you’ve eaten in the last week.’ ‘Urgh …’ Had she? The night before was a big gaping hole in her memory. ‘What happened?’ ‘I don’t know what happened but I got a phone call from the Head of Hotel Security at three in the morning asking me if I could identify a raving madwoman in a silver dress who couldn’t remember her room number but insisted that someone called Max Pancake was sleeping there. They thought you might be a hack from the Sunday Mirror pretending to be absolutely spannered as a way of getting into the hotel.’ ‘Oh, no …’ ‘Yeah, apparently Ronaldo’s staying in one of the penthouse suites and I saw Wayne and Coleen in the bar last night. Anyway, as you were staggering down the corridor, you told me very proudly that you’d lost your phone and you’d just eaten two pieces of KFC and a bag of chips.’ ‘KFC? Oh, God …’ ‘But I wouldn’t worry about that because after you’d tried to persuade me to have my wicked way with you, you started throwing up and you didn’t stop, not for hours. I thought you were going to sleep curled around the toilet at one point.’ ‘Goodness …

She wondered if he was a neighbor, started to smile and introduce herself when his deep voice cut through the cool morning air. “All right, what the hell is going on?” Ignoring the anger in his voice, Charity set her hammer on top of the dresser and climbed down from the porch. “Good morning. I’m Charity Sinclair. I’m the new--” “I don’t care who you are, lady, I want to know what you’re doing on this property.” She fixed a smile on her face, though it took a good bit of effort. “I’m here because I’m the owner. I bought the Lily Rose from a man named Moses Flanagan.” He narrowed those striking blue eyes at her. “Bullshit. Old man Flanagan may not live here anymore but he’d die before he’d sell the Lily Rose. I don’t know who you think you’re kidding, sweetheart, but if you’re planning to squat on his property you can forget it.” It was getting harder by the moment to hang on to her temper. “You’re wrong, Mr…?” He made no effort to answer, just continued to glare down the length of his nicely shaped nose. “Mr. Flanagan decided to move in with his son in Calgary. He listed the property for sale several weeks ago with Smith Real Estate in Dawson. I’m the person who bought it.” His features looked even harder than they had before. “That’s impossible. I tried to buy this place from Mose Flanagan every other month for the last four years. He refused to even consider it.” Her irritation inched up a notch. “Well, apparently he changed his mind. The transaction officially closed yesterday morning. I don’t know why he didn’t tell you the property was for sale.” When his black scowl deepened, she couldn’t resist adding, “Maybe he just didn’t like you.” He opened his mouth to argue, clamped down on his jaw instead, and a muscle jumped in his cheek. Apparently her goading had hit on a portion of the truth.

What's this?" I asked, putting her cup on the counter next to the plate. "Rocky Road Bars," she supplied with a shrug. "Is that some kind of message?" I asked, head dipped. "Message?" she asked, her brows drawing together and proving that it wasn't. "Never mind," I said, shaking my head, feeling a small wave of relief even if she was standing there wound like a clock for some untold reason. Maybe that was the reason that when she shrugged at me and went to reach for her coffee, I reached over the counter, snagged her chin in my thumb and forefinger and leaned in to lick a small bit of chocolate from beside her lips from where she had smudged it. Her entire body stiffened then trembled at the contact. It was all the encouragement I needed. So right there, a dozen eyes no doubt on us, I framed her face in my hands and pressed my lips to hers. There was nothing sweet or chaste about it. I fucking devoured her mouth, my tongue moving to invade, drawing a quiet whimper from her as her hands slammed down on the counter. The sound was enough to remind me that I couldn't take it any further right then and there and better stop before either of us got too worked up. But as I pulled away and her eyes fluttered open and all I could see was a deep desire there, I knew she was a little bit more worked up than I intended. There were a couple chuckles and one brave soul let out a loud whistle as we pulled apart, making my smile tip up slightly, knowing I had just, whether I truly intended it or not, staked a claim. I let the whole town know that I was messing around with one of their favorite daughters. "I hate you right now," she said, her voice airy, her cheeks pink, her lips swollen. "No you don't," I countered, shaking my head. "You just hate that you can't climb over this counter and let me fuck you right here and now. Don't worry, you can have me all to yourself in just a couple of hours. If you can control yourself until then..." "Control myself," she hissed, both looking slightly outraged and equally amused. "I believe you were the one half-mauling me in public." "And I'm pretty sure it was your tongue moving over mine and your whimper I heard, right? Or was that Old Mildred. Hey, Milly..." I started to call, making Maddy's eyes bulge comically as she slammed her hand into my shoulder hard enough to send me back a foot. "Shut up!" she hissed, making me let out a chuckle. "Alright fine. You made your point," she said, shaking her head as she reached for her coffee. "What was my point, exactly?" I asked, curious. "You just like... marked your territory or whatever," she said, rolling her eyes at the very idea, but a small smile pulled at her lips. "So, what, you're mine now?" "Oh, I, well... I thought..." she fumbled, shaking her head at her lack of explanations. "Relax, sweetheart," I said, saving her from her misery. "Like I said last night, I'm in. You were the one who came in all anti-social this morning." "That had nothing to do with you," she informed me, looking almost pained. "Alice?" "My mom needs to find some friends to talk to about sex, Brant. I can't take it. I can't," she said, looking horrified. "I thought I was a cool, mature, experienced, metropolitan woman. But when your mom starts talking about blowjobs, it makes you really, really want to stick your fingers in your ears and scream 'I'm not hearing this, I'm not hearing this' until she shuts up." "Traumatized for life, huh?" "He's coming over tonight. Did I mention that part? He's coming to dinner and then, ah, staying the night. Because apparently it's... serious. Do they still sell earplugs at the pharmacy? I think I might actually die if I have to listen to them doing it.'' I laughed at that, finding myself charmed by her embarrassment. "Tell you what, why don't you come to my place for dinner.

Unless I get called in, I don’t have to work tomorrow.” “Perfect.” I kiss her nose. “Stay with me.” “Why is this so easy with you?” she asks, frowning. “I thought I would be nervous, and maybe scared, and I had a minute of being a little nervous.” She grins up at me. “But I’m not. I’m just… me.” My thoughts exactly. I’m just me. “I’m an easy kind of guy.” She snorts, then bites my arm. Not hard, like some girls have done in the past, making me shy away from teeth, but just enough to make me notice. And make my cock twitch. “You like to bite, don’t you?” “I guess so.” “This is new?” She shrugs and pulls away, leading me back to the bedroom. “It seems you’re bringing out all kinds of surprising things in me tonight.” “What are the others?” “Five orgasms and my first blowjob in years,” she says, tossing her thick hair over her shoulder. “Oh, and I’m perfectly comfortable naked.” “Good. Because I plan to keep you that way a lot.” I climb into the bed and pull her in with me, tucking her against me. “You want to sleep already?” she asks. “Sweetheart, you’ve worn me out.” “But I can still walk.” She sticks her lower lip out, then laughs and kisses my chin. “I’m just kidding.” “There’s always tomorrow morning.” She kisses my neck, then my collarbone, and settles in my arms as if she was born to fit there. I love how affectionate she is. Her lips rarely leave my skin. “Tomorrow morning then.” She yawns. “Goodnight, Adam.” “Goodnight.” I bury my lips in her hair and take a deep breath. She smells like sunshine and sex. Two of my favorite things.

Why, whenever the morning broke and the sun extended its arms between the dirty alleys of the suburbs, you were that obnoxious face and you played the role of a poisonous bullet penetrating the eyes of persons who usually await you in the streets of the city? where did that soft petal which you had guarded between your palms Throughout the night hide? How did you become a desolate forest encircled by woodsmen from every direction? Why did your whispers which you had sent slowly to remove the braids of your sweetheart's hair tuft by tuft turn into an annoying scream?

How could he do that to his own family?" Daddy seemed to sense there was more to Harper's empathy. He reached across the table and gave her hand a big squeeze. "Don't know. Some folks aren't worth their weight in salt if you ask me." Daddy glanced over his shoulder toward the boy on the pier. Harper pulled a claw off her crab and used it to point toward the other pier. She'd never even met the stepfather and was ready to throw the crab claw right in his face. "Sweetheart." It was a your-compassion-is-acting-up-again warning, not an admonishment. Harper blinked, forcing herself back to the present. "You're right. This dinner is a celebration, after all. You caught enough this morning to feed the whole county." She smiled at Daddy, proud of how hard he worked, then looked back down at the crab and slowly broke off the other claw. She hesitated when it made an unexpected pop. "You're thinking about that crab getting caught, aren't you?" Harper set the food back down on her plate and let her laughter go free. "How did you know?" Daddy grinned. "That's my girl. Always considering the oxygen-deprived crustaceans.

I’ll take care of this pretty little pussy anytime you want, Sweetheart. Anytime she wants to be licked, I’ll be here to lick it and make you come. Eating this pussy is going to be my new favorite meal. Anytime she wants to be stuffed with my fat bull cock, I’ll be here to fuck you so good you won’t be able to remember your own name. I’m going to spoil you rotten, Violet. I’m going to spoil this cunt every way I can—all you need to do is tell me what you need.

In a realm of soft hues and blooming blossoms, a young girl lay amidst a field of flowers, a celestial veil gracing her features with a gentle, translucent touch. Her arms extended gracefully above her, eyes closed, she seemed to dance on the edge of dreams. The flowers painted the canvas in shades of blue, purple, and pink, their petals swaying in a tender breeze. Dew-kissed blades of grass formed a sea of diamonds, reflecting the soft glow of an unseen moon. As the girl stirred in her slumber, a distant echo of horse steps reached her ears, a melody that danced through the flowered meadow. Slowly, she rose from her flowery bed, the veil slipping away like morning mist to unveil her enchanting presence. Her gown, a masterpiece of celestial elegance, cascaded around her. A floor-length creation in light blue, it cradled her form with a sweetheart neckline, the bodice adorned in gold, floral designs. Layers of tulle formed the flowing skirt, adorned with accents of blueish flowers, and a train that trailed behind her like a comet's tail. Around her neck hung a pendant, a crescent moon cradling a star, both crafted from silver and adorned with blue gemstones, a twin to the one she wore in the enchanted garden. Her golden locks, a cascade of loose curls, framed her face with ethereal grace, flowing like strands of sunlight. Awakening from the meadow's embrace, her deep blue eyes sought the source of the approaching steps. With a sense of dreamlike purpose, she floated towards the sound, the forest mist enveloping her like a lover's caress. In the heart of the foggy woodland, a clearing revealed itself, trees standing sentinel in the distance. From the shroud of mist emerged a figure on horseback, a man in the regalia of a medieval warrior. The horse, a noble steed of white, carried him forward with determined grace. His attire, a tapestry of dark fabric and gilded accents, spoke of a history steeped in honor and battle. High collars and embroidered shoulder pads, buttons, and chains of gold, all adorned his form. His cape billowed behind him, a canvas of golden threads dancing in the breeze. Their eyes met innocence and determination woven together in the tapestry of fate. As he approached, still astride his noble mount, he extended a hand, a silent invitation. With an innocence that matched the morning dew, she lifted her hand to meet his, and at that moment, the world seemed to swirl and dance around them. Yet, just as the dance was about to begin, Princess Mehjabeen's eyes fluttered open, the enchanting dream slipping away like mist beneath the twilight.

In a realm of soft hues and blooming blossoms, a young girl lay amidst a field of flowers, a celestial veil gracing her features with a gentle, translucent touch. Her arms extended gracefully above her, eyes closed, she seemed to dance on the edge of dreams. The flowers painted the canvas in shades of blue, purple, and pink, their petals swaying in a tender breeze. Dew-kissed blades of grass formed a sea of diamonds, reflecting the soft glow of an unseen moon. As the girl stirred in her slumber, a distant echo of horse steps reached her ears, a melody that danced through the flowered meadow. Slowly, she rose from her flowery bed, the veil slipping away like morning mist to unveil her enchanting presence. Her gown, a masterpiece of celestial elegance, cascaded around her. A floor-length creation in light blue, it cradled her form with a sweetheart neckline, the bodice adorned in gold, floral designs. Layers of tulle formed the flowing skirt, adorned with accents of blueish flowers, and a train that trailed behind her like a comet's tail. Around her neck hung a pendant, a crescent moon cradling a star, both crafted from silver and adorned with blue gemstones, a twin to the one she wore in the enchanted garden. Her golden locks, a cascade of loose curls, framed her face with ethereal grace, flowing like strands of sunlight. Awakening from the meadow's embrace, her deep blue eyes sought the source of the approaching steps. With a sense of dreamlike purpose, she floated towards the sound, the forest mist enveloping her like a lover's caress. In the heart of the foggy woodland, a clearing revealed itself, trees standing sentinel in the distance. From the shroud of mist emerged a figure on horseback, a man in the regalia of a medieval warrior. The horse, a noble steed of white, carried him forward with determined grace. His attire, a tapestry of dark fabric and gilded accents, spoke of a history steeped in honor and battle. High collars and embroidered shoulder pads, buttons, and chains of gold, all adorned his form. His cape billowed behind him, a canvas of golden threads dancing in the breeze. Their eyes met innocence and determination woven together in the tapestry of fate. As he approached, still astride his noble mount, he extended a hand, a silent invitation. With an innocence that matched the morning dew, she lifted her hand to meet his, and at that moment, the world seemed to swirl and dance around them.

  I Miss You   Outside the sun is shining, and the roses are in bloom. The sky this morning is so lovely, but here I sit in gloom.   Outside the birds are singing, but in here, no beauty resides. For my heart is empty, shattered and broken, and will be ‘til you’re back by my side.   Honey, I miss you every morning, and at night when I go to bed. I remember the times you were with me, and all the things that we said.   And I miss your touch; the touch that makes me feel so much a man. I miss the smell of your hair, and the softness of your hands.   I miss holding you in my arms and feeling your lips on mine. I miss hearing your sweet voice, which sounds so loving and kind.   But most of all, I miss your warm tender body next to me as I sleep. I feel so empty when you’re not here; I lie awake all night and weep.   Because without your love, my life is over and I’ll spend the rest of it being blue. So please say you love me and come back; for sweetheart, I miss you.

Naomi stretched as she woke with an exaggerated yawn in her own bed. How the hell did I get here? Recollection of the dirty trick the two men played on her the previous night made her sit up abruptly. The sheet fell away and she noticed her clothing of the previous eve gone, replaced with a t-shirt and shorts. “Those dirty, rotten pigs,” she cursed as she swung her legs out of bed and sat on the edge. “You called?” A head topped with tousled hair poked out from around the door frame of the bathroom. Number sixty-nine’s dark eyes twinkled and his lips curled in a sensual smile. Despite her irritation, her body flooded with warmth. “You!” She pointed at him and shot him a dark glare. He grinned wider. “What about me, darling?” “I’m going to kick your balls so hard you’re going to choke on them. How dare you drug me and then do despicable things to my body while I was unconscious?” Stepping forward from the bathroom, he raised his arms in surrender and her eyes couldn’t help drinking in the sight of him. No one should look that delicious, especially in the morning, was her disgruntled thought. Shirtless, Javier’s tight and toned muscles beckoned. Encased in smooth, tanned skin, his muscular torso tapered down to lean hips where his jeans hung, partially unbuttoned and displayed a bulge that grew as she watched. Unbidden heat flooded her cleft and her nipples shriveled so tight she could have drilled holes with them. She forced herself to swallow and look away before she did something stupid— say, like, licking her way down from his flat nipples to the dark vee of hair that disappeared into his pants. “It would take a braver man than me to disobey your mother’s orders. Besides, you needed the sleep,” he added in a placating tone. Scowling, Naomi mentally planned a loud diatribe for her mother. “Let me ask you, how does your head feel now?” His question derailed her for a second, and she paused to realize she actually felt pretty damned good— but now I’m horny and it’s all his friggin’ fault. She dove off the bed and stalked toward him, five foot four feet of annoyed woman craving coffee, a Danish, and him— naked inside her body. The first two she’d handle shortly, the third, she’d make him pay for. He stood his ground as she approached, the idiot. “What did you do to me while I was out?” she growled as she patted her neck looking for a mating mark. “Nothing. Contrary to your belief, snoring women with black and blue faces just don’t do it for me.” His jibe hurt, but not as much as her foot when it connected with his undefended man parts. He ended up bent over, wheezing while Naomi smirked in satisfaction. “That’s for knocking me out. But, if I find out you did anything to me other than dress me, like cop a feel or take nudie pictures, I’m going hurt you a lot worse.” “Has anyone ever told you you’re hot when you’re mad?” said the man with an obvious death wish. Only his speed saved him from her swinging fist as she screeched at him. “Go away. Can’t you tell I’m not interested?” “Liar.” He threw that comment at her from the other side of her bed. “I can smell your arousal, sweetheart. And might I say, I can’t wait to taste it.

I know exactly what Clarissa is talking about. We have all been concerned about Brenda for a few weeks now. Most days she’s fine, but on the odd occasion, she’s behaving totally out of character. “I’m going to go now, I will leave you in peace,” she says about to hang up. “Clarissa?” I ask, making sure she’s still on the line. “I’m still here,” she says confirming. “It’s best to be honest with people, right?” I know that if my dear friend, one of my oldest friends is to offer me advice when I need it, then I should listen to what she has to say. I know that by asking her opinion, she will always tell me the truth. She will always steer me in the right direction and she would never lie to me. “Always,” she simply replies. “Goodnight sweetheart, see you in the morning.

Good morning, sweetheart,” God said, his groggy morning voice sending tingles of pleasure to Day’s balls. Day answered with a fondling of God’s balls and a slow, sexy lick along the large vein running up the underside of God’s cock. He wrapped his mouth back around the head and went all the way down to the base again. God raised his hips and pushed the bulging head further down his throat. He swallowed a few times and God’s palm moved from his cheek to the back of his head. God gripped his hair and held his face buried in scratchy pubic hair while he thrust repeatedly into his mouth. Uhhh, yeah, fuck my mouth. “Leo, fuck. I’m gonna come,” God moaned. “Ohhhhh… right fuckin’ now. Auuuggghh. Fuuuck!” Day opened his throat and took every drop of delicious, hot goodness God had to give him. He swallowed until he was sure there was none left. He let God’s cock slide from his lips and laid a tender kiss on the head before emerging from beneath the covers with a shit-eating grin. “Yes, it’s a good morning now.” God

Good morning!” St. Just wrapped his arms around Emmie’s waist and pressed his freshly shaved cheek to the side of her neck. “You smell good enough eat.” “My lord!” She batted at St. Just with a towel and wrestled herself out of his embrace. When she kept swatting at him, not in play but perhaps in panic, he stepped back and let his hands fall to his sides. “What on earth do you think you’re about?” she panted, spearing him with an incredulous look. “I will not be accosted in the broad light of day as if…” He arched a dark eyebrow. “As if you’re capable of driving me beyond reason between the sheets?” She whirled, turning her back to him, and when he tried a tentative hand on her shoulder, she flinched. “Emmie?… Sweetheart? Are you crying?” “Don’t call me that!” “Can we discuss this outside?” “No we cannot.

In the morning when she woke, he had gone. He left a note. “Sweetheart. Selling wood, plowing some roads. I won’t be too long. Ian.” “Sweetheart,” she whispered to herself. She folded it in half and quarters and found a safe place in her wallet to preserve it. Forever.

Brandon walked in and when he saw us he held up his hands like he was surrendering and slowly backed back out. It wasn’t weird to see Bree and I hug, but I usually wasn’t naked. “You’re not supposed to see her!” Bree said over my shoulder, “You’ve already seen her too much this morning. Go hide until we can leave.” “Bree,” I whined and looked at the empty doorway, “I love you Brandon!” You could hear the smile in Brandon’s voice, “I love you too sweetheart, I can’t wait to marry you. Bree keep your hands off my wife, you already had your chance to make her gay … too late now.” Bree and I laughed so hard, tears were streaming down our faces.

You all right, sweetheart?” God said, inching up against his side. “Holy shit. You have no fucking idea how I’m feeling right now.” Day half-moaned and half-laughed. “Is it good or bad?” God asked, rubbing Day’s smooth chest. Day turned to face him with a sexy wink. “It’s real good. I’m just pissed that we could’ve been doing this four years ago.” Day smiled. “We weren’t ready for this four years ago,” God replied. “Maybe you’re right. Are you ready now, Cash?” Day turned serious eyes on him. God used his thumb to tenderly stroke Day’s bottom lip. “If you’re asking am I going to hurt you or flake out, the answer’s no. You know me, Leo. You’re the only one who knows me. You’re the only one that’s seen this man in front of you right now.” “Do I know you, Cash?” Day whispered into the darkness. “You will know all of me, but you’ll have to wait until morning.” God smiled, lightening the mood. Day

It’s a safe bet we’ll have an audience, since the cousin saw me walk in here. When we leave, you will have your arm around me and you will lean into me. You won’t look scared or upset, and if anyone approaches you, you won’t say anything. Understand, Rachel?” I sighed in defeat, and my head shook once before he grabbed my chin roughly. It was already sore from the numerous times he’d done it that morning, and I knew I would have bruises there soon. “Unless you want another show like you got this morning”—he paused and smiled when I inhaled audibly—“you will tell me you understand and you will make this look believable.” Blake kissed me deceptively softly and murmured against my lips, “Go on, sweetheart; say it again. I know you’re thinking it. I’m a monster.” He kissed me again once, then brushed his lips across mine, his grip on my chin never loosening. “But like I said, we’ll work on your feelings. Now, do as I said.” I

The next thing I knew, my heavy eyelids slowly opened when Brandon lowered me to my bed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice raspy from the short nap, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He smiled and tucked a loose chunk of hair behind my ear, “Don’t worry about it, you were tired.” “Mhmm. I had a great time though, thanks for taking me.” “Anytime, get some sleep.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead softly once. As soon as his lips touched me, my gummy bear woke up. I laughed once, “I don’t think that will be happening, he’s been asleep until now, he’ll start kicking soon and won’t stop for the next few hours.” Brandon slid onto the bed and put his hands under my shirt, resting them on my stomach. I sucked in a quick gasp but didn’t say anything. We’d already gone way past our friend-only-touching-zone when he’d held me and I kissed him on the cheek this morning. He may talk to my gummy bear every day, but when his hands were on me, they were always over my shirt. Not now though. Now, I was lying in bed, he had his hands on my bare stomach, gently caressing it, and was looking at me from under thick black eyelashes. All I could think about was kissing him. My baby was going crazy, moving his legs and arms back and forth, and Brandon looked so happy I closed my eyes and pictured a world where this could be okay. A world where Brandon and I had stayed together, eventually gotten married and were now expecting. After what must have been at the very least ten minutes later, Brandon leaned forward, his deep voice husky and hypnotic, “Be good to your mom little man, she needs to sleep.” and then he kissed my stomach. So soft, so tender, I couldn’t be sure if I’d imagined it. Then he straightened and came closer to me, “Good night, I’ll see you tomorrow sweetheart.” I

Ironically both of them were on the pavement that night to escape their past and all that had circumscribed their lives so far. And yet, in order to arm themselves for battle, they retreated right back into what they sought to escape, into what they were used to, into what they really were. He, a revolutionary trapped in an accountant’s mind. She, a woman trapped in a man’s body. He, raging at a world in which the balance sheets did not tally. She, raging at her glands, her organs, her skin, the texture of her hair, the width of her shoulders, the timbre of her voice. He, fighting for a way to impose fiscal integrity on a decaying system. She, wanting to pluck the very stars from the sky and grind them into a potion that would give her proper breasts and hips and a long, thick plait of hair that would swing from side to side as she walked, and yes, the thing she longed for most of all, that most well stocked of Delhi’s vast stock of invectives, that insult of all insults, a Maa ki Choot, a mother’s cunt. He, who had spent his days tracking tax dodges, pay-offs and sweetheart deals. She, who had lived for years like a tree in an old graveyard, where, on lazy mornings and late at night, the spirits of the old poets whom she loved, Ghalib, Mir and Zauq, came to recite their verse, drink, argue and gamble. He, who filled in forms and ticked boxes. She, who never knew which box to tick, which queue to stand in, which public toilet to enter (Kings or Queens? Lords or Ladies? Sirs or Hers?). He, who believed he was always right. She, who knew she was all wrong, always wrong. He, reduced by his certainties. She, augmented by her ambiguity. He, who wanted a law. She, who wanted a baby. A circle formed around

You want to borrow my girlfriend?” Carson shouted later that afternoon, promptly dropping the box in his hands. The cardboard smashed onto the floor of Carson and Holly’s new glorious kitchen with a resounding thunk and the distinct sound of glass shattering. “My new plates!” Holly wailed, immediately sinking to her knees. She ripped open the tape closing the two flaps together and peered into the box then looked up at Carson in horror. “You’re a monster!” Carson scowled at her. “I’ll buy you new plates.” The scowl deepened. “That is, if I decide not to break up with you. I can’t believe this was your idea. I told Garrett you and Shelby shouldn’t hang out. The two of you are trouble together.” “They’re just trying to help me out,” Will pointed out, experiencing a jolt of sympathy at the despair on Holly’s face. He swiftly knelt down and tried to pry her hands out of the box. “Quit sticking your fingers in there, Hol. It’s filled with broken glass.” Carson let out an enraged roar. “Don’t you dare console my girlfriend. My girlfriend!” Holly got to her feet, planting her hands on her hips. “Now I’m definitely going,” she shot out. “You broke my plates.” “So you’re going to play house with my lieutenant as punishment?” “He’s in love with another woman!” “Well, I’m in love with you!” Holly’s eyes softened. “Doesn’t it make you love me more, knowing I’m willing to help out one of your friends?” A sigh slid out of Carson’s mouth. “What is it with you and helping people? Didn’t we just decide you’re not going to drop everything for your family anymore?” “This isn’t my family. It’s yours.” “Will and I aren’t related.” “You’re SEALs. Of course you’re related.” Another sigh. “Yeah, you’re right.” Carson took a step forward and pulled Holly into his arms. “Fine, you can go.” “Really?” “I just said it, didn’t I?” Holly threw her arms around her boyfriend. The two proceeded to make out as if Will wasn’t in the kitchen. He shook his head to himself. He wasn’t quite certain how they’d gone from furious to calm to horny in a matter of seconds, but he wasn’t complaining. Ever since Holly and Shelby had burst into his house this morning, he’d been warming up to the plan, starting to believe it might actually work. He was glad Carson hadn’t put up more of a fight. Slipping his hands in the pockets of his khakis, he let the couple smooch a while longer, then cleared his throat. “Uh, guys?” The two pulled apart sheepishly. “Sorry,” Holly said. “Forgot you were here.” Story of his life, women forgetting he was standing right in front of them. Hopefully not for much longer, though. “So how is this going to work?” Carson asked, bending down to retrieve the fallen box. He glanced at his girlfriend. “I’m sorry about the plates, sweetheart. We’ll go out and buy some tomorrow, ’kay?” “I’m holding you to that.” With a stern look, she headed for the fridge and grabbed a can of soda. Flicking the tab, she raised the can to her lips, sipped, and then said, “Will and I are going to Hunter Ridge tomorrow. Apparently there’s some fair going on this weekend.

Gdmng, Sunshine! Just your daily dose of “wisdom” (because who doesn’t love a little dose of encouragement, inspiration or motivation in the morning)? Deep down, we all have the potential to be great. But let’s be honest, some of us planted those “greatness seeds” years ago & are enjoying a tree overflowing with awesome fruits. The rest of us? Still staring at a bag of seeds, wondering if the season is good & afraid of putting hands in dirt. Darling listen – those seeds won’t magically sprout into a self-watering garden of success. You gotta get your hands dirty (metaphorically…, unless you’re actually planting something today, then get dirty for real). Here’s the deal: Everything you do today is a seed for tomorrow. Remember, every thought, word & action counts. Shocking, I know.. but it has always been that way & it will always be that way. Sweetheart, ask yourself: While the universe is on your side, are you on your side? Because the universe is not here to do the weeding. That’s on you. May your metaphorical seeds blossom into a life-changing orchard. Keep Doing The Stuff, Keep Smiling, Stay Blessed & Enjoy your day!

Good morning, Sunshine! Sometimes what we do everyday might seem small, but it matters. The good things we do add up & the not-so-good things do too. Even if you can’t see it right away, what you do everyday affects the world around you. Darling listen – continue doing whatever good you are doing & stop doing bad things… This little post is one such thing that looks so unimportant to some but might just brighten someone’s day. The point that I am making is… keep doing your kind of awesome things everyday, even if they don’t seem like a big deal. They totally are! Sweetheart, while you’re at it, don’t forget to cherish the part of you that wants to do good & that voice inside that tells you to be good, to see the bright side & to cheer for others. That’s what makes you, YOU! Cherish that! It’s what making your world a better place. So here’s to a fantastic day! Let’s show the universe our best selves & watch good things come back our way. Blessings!

This beautiful morning is reminding me of a saying: “Sun for the mind, moon for the soul.” It is really amazing to see how Universe conspires in our favor? Sunshine to boost our brains for the day, moonlight to soothe our souls at night… Talk about a 24/7 support system! Sweetheart, this Universe, in all its cosmic glory, is basically your own personal cheerleader. Every single thing around you is actually designed to help you to be what you came here to be. Darling listen – the only pressure you have is to be your awesome selves & make the most of what you’ve got, everyday. The rest is practically cosmic room service

Today I want you to be willing to be a beginner every single morning.. Sweetheart, by Being a “beginner” I mean: Ditch the Expert Hat: we all have knowledge and experience, but sometimes that can make us close-minded. Open Arms for Newness: Be willing to try something completely new or revisit old skills with fresh eyes. Fresh Start Every Day: Whether you’re burnt out, failed or it’s just time to do things differently, a daily reset is powerful. Darling listen - whatever you did yesterday or didn’t do, just become a beginner today, approach the day with a sense of possibility, revisit the fundamentals & try doing whatever you can, once again.. Let’s savor each experience, learn & grow together. Blessings!

For those of you who aren’t understanding some things I write, my message is simple: we all have dreams, big or small, about what we want to achieve or who we want to be in life & guess what? They’re within your reach! Darling listen – here’s the key: set aside your pride, apologize for past mistakes, actively change your behavior & show up for yourself, for your goals & for the life you crave. Remember, sweetheart: you become what you focus on. Don’t just expect things to magically fall into place. Raise your standards & put in the work. This will not only improve the quality of your relationships but also propel you towards a truly fulfilling life. Raise your Standard, not expectations! Once again, my morning messages, posts & articles are just to feed your mind strong affirmations until your dreams morph into reality. Because I firmly believe that our lives, future & destiny is shaped by the mental shifts that we adopt along our journey in life. I wish & hope that you get closer to living the future that you want, everyday… Blessings!

In our day, friends, there weren’t fancy computers or the internet telling us how to be a man. We just…were men. We figured things out, took responsibility & got the job done. We never needed some motivation or a fancy coaching program to do that. Sweetheart, This isn’t to brag about a bygone era, but to remind you that you too possess that same potential. But yes, now the time has changed. Maybe you need a little help figuring out what it means to be a Man today. Being a man means – having the ability to make yourself do the things that should be done, when you should do it, whether you feel like it or not! There are a few things that make a real man. Go on my blog to read the full list of things that you must do become a real man. (rajeshgoyaldotin) Darling listen - Become the Man You Want to Be! I wish you to know that becoming a man is not a one-time decision or event: it’s something you have to choose every day. It’s like shaving; just because you do it once doesn’t mean you’re done; you still have to wake up & do it again in the morning. Remember, dear – you are supposed to become an honorable man & not just a man; it’s not enough to know you need to act, you also need to know what actions to take. What should you start doing? Where do you hope your actions will lead you? Here’s to all the strong, confident men out there, young & old! Stay Classy, Sassy & Fabulous! Blessings!

I blame it on those wheatgrass smoothies you make me drink every morning. They must be laced with something.” “They’ll extend your life span, Mr. Harper. I want many, many years with you.” “Not years, sweetheart. Forever.

Good Morning, Beautiful Souls! Before you dive into this brand new day, I want to remind you of something powerful: our journeys & lives are filled with both sunshine & storms. Sweetheart, there will be days where the climb feels steep & the path unclear. You might even stumble & fall, feeling lost & questioning everything. But hold on, because even amidst those moments, there’s a truth waiting to be embraced… Golden Days are Coming: Remember – there will also be harvest days. Those glorious moments where the seeds you’ve sown, the battles you’ve fought.. all blossom into something beautiful. Days where success & recognition will find you, days where you fall in love with yourself, your life & where you find those special ones who guide you home & make your soul sing. Darling listen – those blooming days, are not just possibilities – they are waiting for you. I wish & hope that today is one of those extraordinary days for you. May you make this day a day you’ll look back on with pride & a smile. Blessings!

Gdmng, Sunshine! This morning, I offer a gentle reminder: even when everything sucks, pretend you’re a wildflower & push through anyway. Isn’t it amazing how wildflowers just, like, grow anywhere & bring beauty to the space that they inhabit?? So inspiring! Darling listen – this isn’t about blind optimism; it’s about embracing a spirit of wildflower. Let you truly believe you have a wildflower heart within you, meant to blossom freely, resiliently & untamed. May this unearth the hope that lies within you. Sweetheart, in this season of growing, I want you to learn to embrace this beautiful characteristic & the tough sides of yourself. No matter how chaotic it is, let you spring up, grow & expand in the middle of nowhere like a wildflower. May you bloom in a way you are meant to & bring beauty to this world simply with your thoughts, words & actions.. Blessings!

At times in our marriage I loathed him. I saw, with a kind of dull disc of dread in my chest, that with his pleasant distance, his mild expressions, he was unavailable. But worse. Because beneath his height of pleasantness there lurked a juvenile crabbiness, a scowl that flickered across his soul, a pudgy little boy with his lower lip thrust forward who blamed this person and that person—he blamed me, I felt this often; he was blaming me for something that had nothing to do with our present lives, and he blamed me even as he called me “Sweetheart,” making my coffee—back then he never drank coffee but he made me a cup each morning—setting it down before me martyr-like.

The moment you see my message or note or article, I know what you think – Ah, once again a reminder of “responsibilities,” “productivity,” & that vague notion of “becoming your best (at least decent) version.” Who even needs that, right? Even if needed who will do groundbreaking efforts? Whatever you think about my morning posts, these are just to motivate you to think, say & do things that bring greater blessings into your life. But don’t be afraid, Sweetheart, champions of procrastination! Today, I bring you a revolutionary new approach: Accomplishing through Thinking Method (patent pending)... Darling listen – today I want you to just say loudly or think this as the first thing: “I release all disease & negativity from my body. I welcome health, love, happiness & abundance into my life!” Say this to God please make me do something really big, make me gain something big or make me win a lottery today…. Repeat these with gusto, throughout the day… Sure, it might not be the most proactive approach, but, it’s just a start. Remember, the key is to believe it until you see it. My mantra & my method will make you feel amazing (even if you haven’t actually done anything), my guarantee! & who knows? Maybe by repeating positive affirmations again n again, they’ll magically come true. That’s the law of attraction… I wish & hope that you embrace the power of such internal pep talks (inspirational self talks) even if these have zero basis in reality! Stay Blessed!

AMANDA: Do you realize that we're living in sin? ELYOT: Not according to the Catholics; Catholics don't recognize divorce. We're married as much as ever we were. AMANDA: Yes, dear, but we're not Catholics. ELYOT: Never mind, it's nice to think they'd sort of back us up. We were married in the eyes of heaven, and we still are. AMANDA: We may be alright in the eyes of Heaven, but we look like being in the hell of a mess socially. ELYOT: Who cares? AMANDA: Are we going to marry again, after Victor and Sibyl divorce us? ELYOT: I suppose so. What do you think? AMANDA: I feel rather scared of marriage really. ELYOT: It is a frowsy business. AMANDA: I believe it was just the fact of our being married, and clamped together publicly, that wrecked us before. ELYOT: That, and not knowing bow to manage each other. AMANDA: Do you think we know how to manage each other now? ELYOT: This week's been very successful. We've hardly used Solomon Isaacs at all. AMANDA: Solomon Isaacs is so long, let's shorten it to Sollocks. ELYOT: All right. AMANDA: Darling, you do look awfully sweet in your little dressing-gown. ELYOT: Yes, it's pretty ravishing, isn't it? AMANDA: Do you mind if I come round and kiss you? [...] AMANDA: We're tormenting one another. Sit down, sweet, I'm scared. ELYOT [Slowly]: Very well. [He sits down thoughtfully.] AMANDA: We should have said Sollocks ages ago. ELYOT: We're in love all right. [...] AMANDA: [Victor] had a positive mania for looking after me, and protecting me. ELYOT: That would have died down in time, dear. AMANDA: You mustn't be rude; there's no necessity to be rude. ELYOT: I wasn't in the least rude; I merely made a perfectly rational statement. AMANDA: Your voice was decidedly bitter. ELYOT: Victor bad glorious legs, hadn't he? And fascinating ears. AMANDA: Don't be silly. ELYOT: He probably looked radiant in the morning, all flushed and tumbled on the pillow. AMANDA: I never saw him on the pillow. ELYOT: I'm surprised to hear it. AMANDA [angrily]: Elyot! ELYOT: There's no need to be cross. AMANDA: What did you mean by that? ELYOT: I'm sick of listening to you yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yapping about Victor. AMANDA: Now listen Elyot, once and for all --, ELYOT: Oh my dear, Sollocks! Sollocks! -- two minutes -- Sollocks. AMANDA: But -- ELYOT [firmly]: Sollocks! [They sit in dead silence, looking at each other. AMANDA makes a sign that she wants a cigarette. ELYOT gets up, hands her the box, and lights one for her and himself. AMANDA rises and walks over to the window, and stands there, looking out for a moment. Presently ELYOT joins her. She slips her arm through his, and they kiss lightly. They draw the curtains and then come down and sit side by side on the sofa. ELYOT looks at his watch. AMANDA raises her eyebrows at him and he nods, then they both sigh, audibly] That was a near thing. AMANDA: It was my fault. I'm terribly sorry, darling. ELYOT: I was very irritating, I know I was. I'm sure Victor was awfully nice, and you're perfectly right to be sweet about him. AMANDA: That's downright handsome of you. Sweetheart! [She kisses him.] ELYOT [leaning back with her on the sofa]: I think I love you more than ever before. Isn't it ridiculous? Put your feet up. [She puts her legs across his, and they snuggle back together in the corner of the sofa, his head resting on her shoulder.]

I was unaware that Adam had been trying to stand between me and Sabrina since ever, and the expos gave him room and time to mingle with her, and talk about me, just before I met Martina. Adam and I knew that we would most likely get the place we wanted, and only we knew that we were going to make it happen - I was going to make it happen - we both knew. I was unaware whether Adam had been manipulating Sabrina throughout the last weeks and months of our so-called “relationship” until I acted out of character one night and broke a security door with my shoulder the following morning, when her behaviour was becoming too much for me to endure. I didn't think that she had any potential relation to business or criminal activity on Adam's part against my own life. I was wondering if Adam didn't want me to reconnect with Sabrina because he had other plans with her. If we reconnected with my little sweetheart of a crazy ex-girlfriend, then Adam's manipulation of both of us wouldn't work. Adam had been manipulating both me and Sabrina for a long time, I just didn't realize it since we had split up and she moved out. Adam couldn't really manipulate Sabrina before because she hated them. But Adam had an easy job manipulating / corrupting / influencing / instructing / transforming / changing / destroying Martina apparently and I didn't understand why. Was it because of Ruan? Did Adam promise jobs for Ruan, Agustina in London, Amsterdam, and Paris? That sounds like manipulation. Of children. “Manipulation.” – Mani = hands “Mani” – hands / money “Manipulation” – Money – pull – ation Pulling the hands. The lines. The cash. The strings. The puppets. I told her I wanted her to move back home for her safety. We had been living there for over half a year, and Adam, Sabrina, and the others didn't know where we lived. Was it only an illusion and only for me personally, to think that they did not know our address? If they didn't know where we had moved, why had we moved to Mount Juic, the Jew Mountain? By chance? If they knew our address from Martina, then what was the point, or what were they waiting for? For the construction to be completed. Why would they want me to think that they did not know our address? To let my guards down.

times in our marriage I loathed him. I saw, with a kind of dull disc of dread in my chest, that with his pleasant distance, his mild expressions, he was unavailable. But worse. Because beneath his height of pleasantness there lurked a juvenile crabbiness, a scowl that flickered across his soul, a pudgy little boy with his lower lip thrust forward who blamed this person and that person—he blamed me, I felt this often; he was blaming me for something that had nothing to do with our present lives, and he blamed me even as he called me “Sweetheart,” making my coffee—back then he never drank coffee but he made me a cup each morning—setting it down before me martyr-like.

Sending a rose to a beautiful rose To a rose who breathe who Scent my world, by her fragrance To scent your morning sweetheart, not by the fragrance of rose But by my love in form of a Rose Good Morning

Sending a rose to a beautiful rose To a rose who breathe. even not beside me but dwell in my soul in my heart more than me who Scent my world, by her fragrance To scent your morning sweetheart, not by the fragrance of rose But by my love in form of a Rose" Good Morning

Jiya Dalal. You’re holding my soul in your hands. Marry me. Cook breakfast with me every morning. Let me hold you and make you safe. Forever, sweetheart. Keep me grounded while I watch you fly.

You bring the morning with you. You’re the light, sweetheart. When you walk into a room, I can’t see the shadows. There is nothing in this world that could persuade me to send you away if

Paddy's Lament" "Well it's by the hush, me boys, and sure that's to hold your noise And listen to poor Paddy's sad narration I was by hunger stressed, and in poverty distressed So I took a thought I'd leave the Irish nation Well I sold me ass and cow, my little pigs and sow My little plot of land I soon did part with And me sweetheart Bid McGee, I'm afraid I'll never see For I left her there that morning broken-hearted Here's you boys, now take my advice To America I'll have ye's not be going There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin Well myself and a hundred more, to America sailed o'er Our fortunes to be making we were thinkin' When we got to Yankee land, they put guns into our hands 'Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln' Here's you boys, now take my advice To America I'll have ye's not be going There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin General Meagher to us he said, if you get shot or lose your head Every murdered soul of youse will get a pension Well in the war lost me leg, they gave me a wooden peg And by soul it is the truth to you I mention Here's you boys, now take my advice To America I'll have ye's not be going There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin Well I think myself in luck, if I get fed on Indianbuck And old Ireland is the country I delight in To the devil, I would say, it's curse Americay For the truth I've had enough of your hard fightin Here's you boys, now take my advice To America I'll have ye's not be going There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin I wish I was at home I wish I was at home I wish I was at home I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin

Let me explain to you what casual is. Casual is a random text from someone you haven’t seen in two weeks, asking for a hookup. Casual is wearing a condom. Casual is fucking several people at once. Casual is not texting me every day, is not telling me you miss me, not sleeping over and having pancakes the next morning. So, what do you want from me, sweetheart?

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