Smashwords mga kuwento

Everything in Cam's life is finally going right. Despite many of her best friend being out of town for the summer, she is ready to have some fun. With her good friend Josh by her side, Cam is just starting to really enjoy the time off school, when Nick comes wandering back into her life. It's been a year since Cam last saw Nick, but the wound is still fresh. The heartbreak Nick caused so long ago left Cam in pieces. Now that he is back, she is quickly falling apart one again. And the fact that he brought his new girlfriend Gina along for his vacation is only making it worse. Not wanting to see the shell of a person Cam once was thanks to Nick, Josh comes up with an idea: he will play the role of Cam's boyfriend to make Nick jealous. Although the plan seems impossible, Cam quickly realizes it's working. Or at least it seems like it's working from the outside. But to everyone on the inside things get messy fast. With feelings, emotions, and kissing flying all around, will Cam ever stop the pretending and land the true love she's been looking for?

"kutipan yang terlahir dari raga serta perasaan"

Let us skip, you and I, through certain half-smelted streets; where time and conscience dissolve like watches, and glass shadows catch the first sun's rays fully on their mistaken faces.

Your tattooed stigmata is showing, my dear- that spot of willful blood lies dormant; while greedy hosts of Angels draw illicit lots, and seek redemption in performance.

A story of how Smash started, along with its tradition. ____________________________________ Super Smash Bros. By @Ist01ey0subs I do not own the rights to Smash. Super Smash Bros., the logo, and other trademarks are licensed by Masahiro Sakurai, Nintendo Co. LTD., and Sora LTD.. ©2019 @Ist01ey0subs. All rights reserved.

Pol Pot's deflowered now who used to ride a water- smooth buffalo and kill onetwothreefourfive million traitors Justlikethat -- Jeezus, he was an awful liar, and what I'd like to know is how do you like your despot now, mister Death?

A collection of author's notes about my writing and editing all in one place so you guys don't have to scroll through endless comments/activity to find mass messages.

I could never understand her need to wash His feet; I did not come from Magdalene's world, That nervous sticky world of anonymous diddling, Which mixes its shekels with blood and lies and spit, And leaves its spineless remains In the bellies of involuntary Beasts.

One wish sends Vanessa back in time where she lives in a carnival under the Ring Leader. She knows there's something off about him, but she can't quite place her finger on what, exactly. All she knows is he wants her dead.

Eenralla lives in a Dome. That Dome is run by the Government. The Government has a secret. A secret they want Eenralla to forget. It all started when she touched the wall... (Book 2 of the Trapped Trilogy) Eenralla seems to be lost forever. The Rebellion seems to have crumbled at the feet of the Domes' power. Murkas has won. Or so he would like to think. Justin isn't controlled by the Domes-he was born and raised outside of them. He escapes, with help from Brynlea, his mind on one thing: WAKE. UP. EENIE. _ _ _ Available to purchase on Amazon and Radish.

This is how easily two stiff souls can learn to bend, And pivot around the mulberry times Like dancers, defining their time and space.

Story of a modern girl trying to find love and her best friend who is settled and married but realises her life still isn't fulfilled

Pilate is doomed to clean his rifle forever- The walls will not forget these nights. If you decided to brave the waters of sanctioned terror, be sure to wear your Christ; should you decided to share your scraps of hard-won Gospel, sharpen your sword against the bars.

Four small whispers can now leave rehearsal, the last cigarette has been ground to ashes. It was once important for us to kill some Negroes, no matter how many times they claimed to fear God― no matter how pretty their dime store dresses were― no matter how late they were for choir practice.

and with each passing day he shoulders the weight, as if he were the only strongman left in his own heart's circus-