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AH After Hours

Tác giả: jmwreads
Contemporary Romance
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What is AH After Hours

Đọc tiểu thuyết AH After Hours của tác giả jmwreads được xuất bản trên WebNovel.Noah rubbed his temple and remarked, "So I see you're growing close with him." Dixie could tell he was tense as the clothing fit him well and his eyebrows were furrowed. "You're not allowed to do that...

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Noah rubbed his temple and remarked, "So I see you're growing close with him." Dixie could tell he was tense as the clothing fit him well and his eyebrows were furrowed. "You're not allowed to do that," she said "We're not in a relationship." She spat and slapped the papers on the desk, saying, "You're fucking someone else." "We didn't fuck, how many times do I have to tell you that? Tell me you haven't messed with him or you haven't been on a date?" He leapt to his feet and took a step forward, pushing her into the corner. She remained still. "Exactly, don't lecture me about it when you're doing it yourself." "Whatever, is that the reason you've been ignoring me?" You don't have the fucking right to tell me what to do, whether you're my boss or not. You want me some days and don't want me other days. Make up your fucking mind before I leave," he stood there silently, enraged by her tone and thinking about the words she uttered.. Dixie, the ideal woman to everyone else, yet everything was wrong with her. She hides behind the mask of being a flawless girl, despite her deep hatred for herself and her image. Men were never an issue for her because they were continually falling at her feet, lusting for her. The impending internship with Noah will completely transform her life but for the better or worse? On the other hand, Noah is regarded as a sex icon. A possessive, dominant, sage, arrogant, well-behaved and well-dressed businessman who owns the largest firm in New Your City, Beck Telecommunications Limited. What will happen when the two worlds encounter, with both containing stubbornness, want, desire, lust, and perhaps even a little framework for love and passion? With him, everything appears to be in proportion...but is there anything different beneath the surface? Will the secrets she worked so hard to bury and forget surface when the two meet? Will he succumb to the shadows of his past?

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An Ode to What Remained

“Only when it ends!” Sola cried. “And then what?” the Old World asked. Sola could only look back in shame at those pitiful mammals, as the "Longing" forced that silver on their fingers and their fingers around their supervisors' throats. She couldn't even imagine how it must have felt for that thing to seduce their spinal cords and slither into their periaqueductal grey. As she sank deeper into the temperate embrace of "Order", a quiver coursed through some of her layers, swallowing unimportant third-world villages and economically destroying some coastal cities. At last, she too had gotten over herself and her little dalliance with Longing. Who could’ve known that the remedy for heartbreak had always been: Forty-two million casualties, an unprecedented intersolairial union, and forty-eight years of progressive cultural and intellectual stagnation—certainly not her. “Adieu!” She waved as the ship distanced itself from the sizzling shore of frantically gathered history. Long gone were the smokey memories of rebellion, innovation, and hope. Taken by the ash, carried to the railing, and surrendered to the red waves. Nothing but soggy mind pictures, castles in the sky, drug-induced disruptions of neurotransmitters, and juvenile phases. “Maturing takes sacrifices, and these," the clear waters whispered, “were worth it.” Rail carriages drove when turned on. Rain dropped from the airship-dotted skies. The veil devoured reality. Sol sat on his throne. All was normal on Sola... But what’s that? There at the coast. Did the blood waves not wash up the corpse of the past? It couldn't have been suicidality that ripped open the discolored tissue while it wriggled and writhed its way to the primary motor cortex. Did forgetfulness make the molten pinky and ring fingers twitch? Maybe perseverance forced the purge fluid to escape through the mouth and nose. Who cares? What mattered was that the question was never answered.

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