Marabella's Farm

Marabella's Farm

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Apr 20, 2012
Katrina Muller is blown away. Her mother has finally had it. It was enough. Her mother was fed up with her constant warnings from the police, and also her teachers. She had vandalized several things, got high several times, shop lifted several times, and expressed vulgar tastes in every aspect of her life. Ms. Muller has finally had enough of Katrina’s unvarying offenses. Things regular seventeen year olds wouldn’t normally like. Katrina likes girl things, regular things, but she is also attracted to the bad girl vandalism things. The odd mix make her stuck up and snotty and very full of herself. Katrina is sent away to live with her mom’s friends aunt, in a small town in Tennessee’s mountain, on a farm. The exact opposite of Katrina’s ideal living style. There she gets over her perfect life in NYC and finally comes to the realization: Sometimes sparkles and mini skirts don’t matter. Neither do vandalisms. Because in Marabella’s Farm, past things don’t matter. Clean slate. Find out what Katrina does in this exciting novel!
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College? No, this was paradise. Three years filled with partying, not so secret underground drug-deals, and hot-headed men sliding into beds like snakes with no self-control. Things were different now. I wasn't that perfect, frill-wearing angel Mama thought would walk into the house ring-beared. So many things had changed, except for one. Him. He was a disease, one I couldn't get rid of no matter how hard I tried. Everytime he's near, I feel myself turn into something I've never seen before. Like there's something under my skin only he is capable of bringing out. He's manipulative, twisted, and completely wrong in every way. I hate him. Yet every night, from miles away, I find him in my dreams. Mikhail Volkov Fuck the patriarchy. Better yet, fuck everything and everyone. It was a game of cat and mouse, me chasing victories every single day. The Bratva's constant want for war was what kept the fuel in my blood, burning up into flames whenever my knuckles made contact with another opponent. In the end, I'm always the one left standing. This fire in my bones, I feel it burst into flames while every dark memory, thought and desire runs into my fists. So many medals, but only the people around me could see them. The real battle was against my head. And maybe, just maybe, I was afraid to admit that I had no chance in winning it. She makes it harder. An angel with wings to everyone else, yet a master at unveiling those devil's horns only when I'm near. There's this darkness, this fire, in the both of us. The only difference is, she's better at hiding it. She was gone, far away, yet there was this tether dowsed in fuel connecting us, one that only lit up when she came back. Every time she's near, I feel the limits surrounding my wrath being tested. Then again, rules are only made to be broken, right? Mafia Dark Romance *Standalone*

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