“I Don't Have to Play by Your Rules” the poem that gives a unique message upon anyone got betrayal.
No one should have to live their lives
in fear of being found out,
spending their time locked in a closet
with all the skeletons and spiders
and dirty little secrets no one wants
to spill;
exhausted of people acting as if being
queer is a lifestyle or a choice,
it is who we are;
we are born this way—
& for those who want to say it's unnatural
here are some animals that are gay in the wild:
lions, giraffes, bonobos, penguins, dolphins,
albatrosses, elephants, sheep, macaques,
bison, walruses, swans, spotted hyenas,
flamingos, orcas, vultures, sea lions, gulls,
and many more;
just because you live your lives differently doesn't
mean that everyone should have to play by your rules—
stop using your religion as an excuse to murder,
hate, and ruin the lives of those who don't subscribe
to your theology;
you're not oppressed simply because we're calling you out.
After reading, I Don't Have… you may also like to read the below poems
Dizziness worse in dark, when it talks about flirting and broken heart, this poem must read for every reader. The poem well explained on the relationship and love.
You told me I had coffee colored eyes,
then you stopped drinking coffee;
told your mother it was like I had always
been there but then abandoned me
when I needed you most to leave me in
my darkest and heaviest thoughts—
I was sad, at first, when you let me go;
but now I am grateful that I was never
caught in the gilded cage of your lust because
I bet that I would be the most miserable
creature, if I were trapped by your side for
eternity with the knowledge that you're
not a man who is true or sincere—
just someone who promises forever without
meaning them,
and one day it will come to burn you;
if karma is feeling generous, she'll let me watch
and I will do so with a glass of champagne
in hand, watching as you fall into the dizzying darkness
you tried to bury me in.
After reading how Dizziness worse in dark, read more must read poems
Poem on lemonadeexplores the relation between a daughter and father
it's Father's Day,
and I have complicated
emotions about it;
makes me a little sad that my
stepfather and I aren't close
and that my biological father was
nothing more than a nightmare
in the lives of both me and my mother—
makes me jealous of all the people
with good dads that actually love them
and have relationships with them and the
girls and women that get
to have those father-daughter dances
at weddings that I've never ever once had,
makes me hungry for a relationship I'll never have;
because whilst my stepfather loves me
and I love him there's a lot of pain and rage and
resentment there, too;
it wasn't always bad, but it wasn't always good, either—
So, I stand here with this bittersweet lemonade
of emotions, wishing there was more sweetness
because it's mostly bitter, and I've never liked bitter drinks.
After reading poem on lemonade, read another must-read poems
Ashely crafted “Missing in The Pages” by putting, love, revenge and how romance of lies makes us turn the pages until you finish the book. It simply makes you miss the pages of the book at every time you take a break from reading the novel.
Author Bio
Author Ashley Tropea
Ashley Tropea comes from an Egyptian-Italian family and has been writing since she was 11. She finished her first novel by the age of 14 and published it online for free, where she received an overwhelming amount of positive feedback, earning a combined 1.5 million reads worldwide.
In addition to her (perhaps unhealthy) obsession with books, she is also a huge tv junkie. She studied writing for tv at Loyola Marymount University where she graduated with a BA in Screenwriting. Her scripts have performed just as well as her novels, placing in numerous screenwriting competitions and regularly ranking in the top 10 on Coverfly's Red List.
With a special place in her heart for fantasies and ball gowns, Ashley intends to spread her love of large worlds, adventure, and romance through her novels and films.
About the book “Missing in The Pages”
Missing in the pages
With over 1 million reads worldwide, Missing in the Pages is an exciting and heartfelt story full of swashbuckling pirates, dangerous romance, and one girl's quest to find her home.
After eighteen-year-old Elizabeth Burrough's father went missing six years ago, all Elizabeth has ever felt is alone. Ostracized at school and ignored at home by her perpetually grieving mother, Elizabeth’s only solace lies within the pages of her favorite book, filled with daring sword fights and adventurous heroines. But when she awakes one morning to discover she's somehow inside the novel, it seems the glamorous world of eighteenth-century England may be more perilous than she'd ever expected. And when the striking but harsh Captain Carter McLeod decides he can use Elizabeth for his own gain, she is suddenly thrust into a treacherous life of deceit, envy, and revenge.
But as Elizabeth finds herself inexplicably drawn to the merciless captain, she begins to realize that Carter’s past is filled with darker secrets than she ever realized. And when Carter determines Elizabeth's help is imperative in recovering a treasure that had been stolen from him long ago, the dangers that lurk beneath the surface of the polished English nobility start to rise up around them. In a place where it seems no one is completely trustworthy and where darkness hides around every corner, Elizabeth must decide whether there is actually anything awaiting her back home or if this dangerously exhilarating world is where she truly belongs.
Opening Paragraphs
Rain slams against the wooden deck of the ship, dousing the candlelight and plunging the ship’s crew into darkness. The moon paints the frantic men in sallow light, reflecting the blanched panic on their faces as they rush to their posts, crashing into each other in the process. Thunder booms and lightning shoots from the sky, breaking through the thick darkness of the night. Offering Elizabeth just a moment to see him across the deck.
She hikes the skirts of her gown as high as she can and hurries toward him.
“Nathaniel!”
He turns and spots her. There is a look in his eyes that makes her blood run cold with a fear she has never known. Her throat runs dry and she almost stops in her approach. But she refuses to believe what his eyes are telling her.
She shoves through the panicked crowd of men until she reaches him. “Where is he?” she demands.
He drops his eyes to the ground, scratching his head sorrowfully. “I don’t know.” His voice is soft...mournful.
Her heart plummets to her feet and she can hardly breathe. “How can you not know? Were you not with him?”
“I was.”
“Then where the bloody hell is he, Nathan?”
He doesn’t answer, giving her that look again.
She shakes her head. Terror’s cold tentacles wrap around her, chilling her to the marrow of her bones. “I have to find him.”
He grabs her arm as she turns to go. “No, you can’t—”
“I have to find him!”
Thunder claps and every single man on the ship falls silent as they stare at the edge of the vessel. For a moment, Elizabeth can’t understand what’s happened. But then she watches as the figure of the man she has been searching for staggers onto the ship.
It wasn’t a thunderclap.
It was a gunshot.
Carter stumbles, clutching at his stomach, blood spilling out. He struggles to raise his head, but when he finally manages it, his eyes easily find hers across the expanse of the deck, a wealth of meaning in them.
Then those beautiful hazel eyes that Elizabeth adores so much roll back in his head.
“No,” she breathes as he collapses. She runs for him, ignoring the way her corset digs into her skin or the way his crew remain frozen.
She drops to her knees beside him, cradling his face in her hands. His skin is pale and his muscles are slack. “Carter?” She shakes him hard, but he doesn’t move. “No, no, no, no—Carter? Can you hear me?”
Silence.
His eyes, eyes that had gazed at her with such love, such passion, now stare unseeingly into the stormy sky. Blank.
Elizabeth cries, terrible, painful sobs as she looks into those eyes. Carter McLeod, the man who always manages to pull her back from the edge, the only man she has ever loved, is dead—
I snapped the book shut and practically threw it across the room where it landed on a round cafeteria table.
What! Carter was dead? Really, truly dead? But he was the male lead! How do you kill the lead?!
I leaned forward and rested my head in my hands, sighing.
These books were going to be the death of me.
I had been so sure the lead characters were safe with Sarah Morales. She had written my absolute favorite books for the past seven years. The release of the final book in the Caspian Rogers series had been record breaking; nearly every bookstore in America had sold out of the novels in the first day.
And in the last book, she killed Carter McLeod. Unbelievable. Unforgivable, really.
I moved to the table the book had landed on, picking it up and scanning over that last page again as if by sheer will I could change the words. But all I accomplished was a deeper feeling of despair and an embarrassing tear that trailed down my cheek.
“Freak,” a girl muttered as she passed me, followed by giggles from her friends.
My cheeks flushed hotly, and I fidgeted on the metal bench, keeping my eyes downcast.
But I felt them watching me a few tables away, their eyes like hot pokers stabbing my skin.
It was my fault. I knew I was sitting in the school cafeteria. I should’ve controlled myself better, done more to appear like the invisible girl I was supposed to be. The invisible girl I so desperately wanted to be.
Because invisible meant no one could see me. Invisible meant no one was looking or laughing or whispering. Invisible meant silence, and silence meant safety.
I had heard that saying over and over about sticks and stones, how words couldn’t hurt. Someone should’ve told the creator of that mantra that the eyes hurt more than the words. Constant accusations of “freak” or “weirdo” I could handle; I’d heard them enough. But it was the things unheard that made my cheeks flame, the judgement that radiated from their faces into my back. It was the unspoken thoughts I couldn’t hear but that I knew existed. That I knew were much crueler than anything anyone actually said.
I let my long brown hair curtain my face from their view, opened the book in front of me again, and blew out a sharp breath. Shield back in place. A meaningless line of defense against laughter and scrutiny, but it was all I had.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and hurried out the door, mentally counting down the days until graduation, until freedom. Just twenty-five more days, I assured myself. I had done twelve years with these people. I could do another twenty-five days.
***
When I got home, a note from Mom sat on the counter:
Emergency at the hospital. Be back late. Dinner in freezer.
I sighed as I practically threw the frozen dinner in the microwave, completely unsurprised to find Mom wasn’t home. Somehow, there was always an emergency at the hospital only my surgeon mother could solve, that just happened to coincide with the time I came home from school at night or when I left for school in the morning. Somehow, she always found a way to stay away from the house.
Away from me.
It was how she coped, she’d told me once. After Dad had gone missing, how could I expect her to be here, where so much reminded her of him? Where I reminded her of him?
Six years. Six years ago, Mom went to work and I went to school, and when we came home, Dad was gone. At first, we’d thought he’d run away. Incomprehensible in itself—he loved us. But his phone, keys, clothes, everything had been left at home. No, he hadn’t run away. Something had happened to him.
But that was six years ago. And Mom and I both knew the odds were he was…dead. The police wouldn’t find him, he wouldn’t stumble through the front door with an explanation. He was gone.
So that made it six years that I had been completely and totally alone in this house. What was one more night?
I shook my head—disappointed in myself for feeling disappointed—and pulled the dinner out as the microwave beeped.
I set my plate at the kitchen table big enough for four but only ever seating one and flicked on the television, not caring at all what channel came on. I just needed something to cover up the sounds of my solitary meal.
Naturally, it was the news, talking about the record sales of the Caspian Rogers finale. The news anchor stood in front of a bookstore with what looked like an angry crowd gathered in front of it. Everyone held copies of the last Caspian Rogers book, and their muffled grumbling could just be heard over the news anchor’s words. “Since first hitting shelves seven years ago, fans have been in love with Sarah Morales’ Caspian Rogers series, filled with adventure and swashbuckling pirates. The final installment of the beloved books was released earlier this month, and today, Morales was set to do a public reading of the novel at this bookstore. However, fans were left disappointed when the famed author failed to show, the third public appearance she’s missed since the final book’s publication. I spoke with many of the fans here today, and the question on everyone’s lips? Where is Sarah Morales?”
I switched to a different channel, to some nineties sitcom that I’d seen so many times it could function as the irrelevant white noise I needed. Though it might seem ridiculous, I felt a certain kinship to Sarah Morales. She was loved, she was famous, and even she wanted to hide. Why couldn’t they just let her hide? Why couldn’t they be content with what she had given them and leave the rest alone? Why wasn’t all of it—any of it—ever enough?
I finished up my dinner quickly and then sped through my homework, which was a joke this late into the school year. Who cared about finishing assignments in precalculus or physics? There was only twenty-five days left. Surely, the teachers had to know we’d given up by now.
Although I felt like I had given up a long time ago.
True, I used to strive for straight A’s. I used to stay up until the sun was near rising to study for exams or finish assignments. I used to think if I just worked hard enough, my mother would snap out of her funk, would smile and laugh with me the way she used to.
The last time I’d tried was sophomore year. I’d stayed up late to catch Mom when she came home from the hospital. She’d stumbled into the house, scrubs wrinkled and eyes watery and bloodshot. But I didn’t care. If I had waited for a time when she was ready to talk, I’d never have spoken to her again. So I’d ignored any signs of exhaustion, plastered on an excited smile, and presented my report card to her.
“What is this?” she’d grumbled before reluctantly taking the paper. She’d looked at it for a split second before clicking her tongue and handing it back. “Not now, Lizzie,” she’d said, and then headed to her bedroom and closed the door.
And locked it. I remembered that vividly. She’d quite literally locked me out.
Since then, I felt mildly proud when I brought home a C, felt like a superhero when I managed a B.
And tonight, as I stared at the symbols of my precalculus homework, I felt that same indifference I’d felt for the last few years. That overwhelming question that pounded in my head:
Why bother?
Why bother when I wasn’t even going to college? Why bother when I knew I’d never study math or science if I did go to college? Why bother when I simply didn’t care?
So I pushed my homework away, put on my pajamas, switched off the light, and climbed into bed.
Loneliness always hit me the hardest when I was lying under my covers, when all was quiet in the house, when I could hear the absence of my mother’s snoring in the next room, when I realized it was only eight o’clock and I was already in bed. And when the loneliness hit, when the isolation became too much, there were only two options: I could cry myself to sleep—which I had done too many times to count—or I could crack open Caspian Rogers and allow my only companions to cheer me up.
Forgetting the grisly death of my favorite character, of course.
Last night, I’d read the epic sword fighting scene, but, tonight, I flipped a few pages further to where Elizabeth Gallagher and Carter see each other again for the first time in years. It always amazed me how brave Elizabeth was when faced with the fearful pirate. Her and I were both “Elizabeth” but we couldn’t be more different, and not just because she was a few years older than me. Carter was by no means the warm and fuzzy type, but somehow this noblewoman found the strength not to cry or cower. She was strong. And I was not.
I sighed and snuggled deeper into my covers. I wished I could be like Elizabeth Gallagher. I wished I could go right up to those snickering girls and give them a piece of my mind. I wished I could find the courage to make my mother talk to me, to get her to ask just once if I was okay. But I knew that no matter how badly I wanted to, there would always be some sort of invisible duct tape sealing my mouth shut.
The words began to blur together on the pages as my eyes drifted shut.
Tomorrow, my companions promised me. Tomorrow will be better.
Here is some great news for Mysterious Love readers. Bint will walk you through the mysteries and horror of his novel, “To Rise Again." Who is Stewart Bint? Keep reading.
Author Bio
Stewart Bint
A former broadcaster and PR writer, Stewart Bint is now semi-retired, devoting just a few hours a day to his next novel, and has his own column in a monthly magazine. He has four published novels and a collection of short stories. Married, with two grown-up children, he lives in Leicestershire in the UK, and celebrated his 40th wedding anniversary earlier this year. He was born in the dim and distant past (under extreme torture he'll admit it was in 1956). Stewart goes barefoot almost all the time, regularly hiking on woodland and moorland trails in bare feet.
Just before the German occupation of Jersey during World War ll, the Marquand family flee their home in the English Channel, and never return. Now, it's the summer of 1983, and the once-oppulent Idlewild mansion is crumbling and derelict. The mansion holds a mysterious lure for 18-year-old David Simeon, who dreams of Idlewild years past, as it used to be., But who is the young girl he sees, endlessly wandering through its corridors?
As the nerve-shattering link between David, the girl, and the mysterious Idlewild comes to light. Is it too late to stop the seeds of destruction and world domination planted there long ago, during Adolf Hitler's last desperate throw of the dice in World War ll?
Fantasy, science fiction, horror, and paranormal mingle in Stewart Bint's “To Rise Again”, as the threads of 1945 and 1983 slowly intertwine to reveal a world on the brink of destruction.
Opening of “To Rise Again”
Colonel von Brauschlow read the directive again. This was the first time his inconsequential outpost on Jersey had received a communication from the Drittes Reich High Command. And addressed to him personally. That made him proud. Especially when his eyes lingered.
The title and name at the bottom: Der Führer, Adolf Hitler. The message outlining Hitler's plan left von Brauschlow in no doubt. The future of the German Fatherland and the master race rested entirely in his hands.
He smiled at the thought that Jersey, this tiny island surrendered by the British Government to the German occupying forces in June 1940 as being of no strategic importance, would be the starting point for the final realisation of Hitler's dream: world domination.
The story of mystery on how both need each other to escape. The book The Birdcage by Krista Lynne White narrated intriguingly, keeping the reader in suspense.
Krista Lynne White | Twitter
Author Krista Lynne White
Krista is a former executive recruiter who fell so hard for writing, stories soon consumed her every idle thought. Relationships fascinate her. Marital, romantic, familial, professional—as long as they’re ripe with complexity and emotion—she’ll be writing them. Krista lives in an idyllic Southern Ontario hamlet with her husband, sons and vegetable garden. She’s published a handful of short stories, and this is her first book published with Saga Fiction.
Matt’s in awe of his wife. Feisty, intelligent, capable, and now excelling in her first executive sales position. But Jillian’s job requires long hours, and Matt can’t help but suspect an affair. Jillian’s become more suited to her impressive boss than the hapless schoolteacher she’s outgrown.
Jillian’s marriage is slipping through her fingers.
Jill loves meeting the challenges of her new job, despite the unreasonable demands of her misogynistic boss. But she needs to find the balance between being a woman, wife, mother and hard-charging executive. Even a patient man like Matt won’t tolerate being neglected for long.
Episode 1 (The opening paragraph)
‘Are you ready?’
Matt knew he was still limp without having to peek. ‘Maybe a little…you know…lube might help?’
The lamp atop his nightstand illuminated Jillian’s playful smile with soft light. She rolled over and rifled through her nightstand.
Matt reached out and traced the sensual curve of her hip beneath the sheets. He ran his hand through her untamed ginger-gold curls and told himself to relax as she warmed the gel in her palm then slowly caressed him. He moaned as he cupped Jill’s freckle-kissed shoulder then stroked the length of her long, slender arm. Slowly, tenderly, Jill slid along his body with her rhythm and piece by piece the world faded away, until nothing remained but them as one... Shit, she was good at this. A little firmer, a little faster. No, she was exceptional at this. But then, Jill became exceptional at anything she tackled.
‘Mmm, now we’re getting there,’ she purred.
We’re getting there. Tension emerged, stiffening his neck, spreading to his shoulders. That’s not really what she meant. She was there. He wasn’t. He watched Jillian’s smile become cocky, her eyes shift to smug. A competitor, not a wife. You’re coming along now, Matt. Catch up to me, I’m way ahead of you.
Jillian was way ahead of him; distant beyond his grasp, pulling away fast, and he didn’t know how to close the gap.
He grunted and adjusted his hips and shoulders. Their mattress now felt as comfortable as a bed of stones.
‘Relax, babe. I know it’s been a while...Just don’t think about it.’
Thanks a lot, Jill. Trying not to think about the fact they hadn’t made love in the last three months made him unable to think of anything else.
‘Stay with me, babe. I’m losing you.’ She picked up her pace.
Matt shifted, to maximize the onslaught, ‘I’m trying.’
Jillian slowed to a stop, then sighed and kissed his temple, ‘I’m sorry... I ruined it, didn’t I?’
He risked a glance downward. He rolled his eyes and groaned. ’It’s no problem, babe. I’ll try again. Just let me think a minute.’
She rose to her knees and wiped her hands on the sheets, studying him like a doctor assessing a patient. Real sexy.
She suddenly straddled him, leaning forward on her elbows so their chests pressed together and their faces hovered inches apart.
‘I still remember the first time I saw you...’ Her blue eyes twinkled under the lamplight as she gazed into his eyes. Her mouth spread wide, into her adorable gum-bearing smile, as she stroked his thick hair back from his forehead. Cocky or not, she was undeniably beautiful.
‘It would be hard to forget, wouldn’t it? A college doofus who bumbled a first line so badly.’
A lilting chuckle escaped Jillian’s lips and she tried to stifle it in his neck. ‘Is it hot in here, or is it just me?’
Matt grimaced, ‘You. Is it hot in here, or is it just you?’
‘Thankfully, I didn’t know you were giving me a pickup line. If I knew you were trying to woo me by calling me hot, I would’ve presumed you only wanted me for my body, thrown you my nastiest look and turned my back on you forever.’
He chuckled. She would’ve too. Conviction and spirit were among Jillian’s greatest strengths.
She playfully slapped his chest, ‘Okay, yes, I can be a little naïve. I just thought you were too warm, which looked probable—I’d never seen a guy wear a sweater vest to a bar before. That, mixed with your glasses... You were intriguingly intellectual and mature.’
Matt laughed softly, ‘Maybe that’s why I’ve never given up the sweater vests.’
Jillian’s smile faded, all levity gone, ‘That wasn’t the first time I saw you…’
‘It wasn’t?’
‘I noticed you when you came into the bar. Had you not come talk to me, I would’ve talked to you.’
Matt caressed her face with his palms, and stroked her high cheekbones with his thumbs.
Jillian’s eyes narrowed, ‘I’d still notice you. I love you, Matt. Do you know that?’
His chest tightened, a wave of nausea engulfed him. He felt confined, trapped. ‘Yes. I know you love me.’ His head dropped to the side. He couldn’t meet her pleading blue eyes.
He had just lied to his own wife.
‘Do you still love me, Matt?’
‘Of course!’ He looked into her eyes. ‘Of course, I love you.’
Every one of Jill’s facial features relaxed.
Matt kissed her and rolled her onto her back so he could show her just how much he loved her.
He should believe Jillian loved him. In over sixteen years of marriage, she’d never shied away from a hard truth. And it was her honesty that locked him in this cage. He knew she was holding back something big from him, and this time he couldn’t face the truth.
Now that the kids were in school and she could pursue her dreams... Now she’d been promoted and she could see how amazing she really was—how much longer would she put up with him? She drew up seven-figure contracts, while he taught brats with dribbling noses two plus two equaled four. She negotiated with power-brokers while he ended squabbles between playground kingpins. How could she respect him? All day spent around sophisticated, shiny men and a boss who was a picture of male perfection, only to return home to a finger-paint-splattered dweeb who read picture books for a living. He had to do something with himself. To keep her; he needed to grow, to be more. He squeezed her tighter, dug deeper.
‘Babe, careful,’ she whispered. ‘That’s too hard. It hurts.’
He pulled himself up along her body, wrapping his arms around her shoulders drawing them together, wanting to feel every inch of her skin against his. If only keeping hold of her respect was as easy.
How long till she left him? He wasn’t able to satisfy her. Why wouldn’t she have an affair with a man her equal? He couldn’t bear the thought of a life without Jillian, but in conscience, could he fight a divorce? She belonged with someone better, some loaded CEO. He’d always known it. When she left, how often would he get to see the kids? How much did a good lawyer charge?
‘Are you ready?’ Jillian gasped. He let her find out for herself. Her features drew tight, surely in disappointment.
They both rolled back to their sides of the bed.
‘It happens to every guy, babe.’
He knew she was trying to reassure him, but the suppressed frustration in her tone really bit. ‘No, it doesn’t, Jill.’
‘Please don’t nit-pick. You know what I mean.’
He sighed deeply, hoping Jillian would realize he didn’t want to discuss this.
‘All I’m trying to say is this is a common problem for men. Maybe not for guys as young as you, but problems like this affect guys of all ages, I’m sure.’
He wasn’t. He gritted his teeth.
‘Do they sell little blue pills over the counter?’ she asked, ‘Or do you need to see a doctor first?’
His face flushed and his heart rate sped up, ‘Jillian! I don’t need a little blue pill. Don’t put this all on me. What about the nights I’ve been ready and raring, but you’ve been too tired, or couldn’t get your mind off work?’
Jillian’s lips pursed, and her eyes darted to the corner of their bedroom.
‘Obviously it’s not going to happen tonight.’ He threw back the sheets and got out of bed.
‘Matt! If we could just talk about what’s bothering you—’
‘Nothings bothering me. I’m going to get ready for bed.’ He walked along the foot of their bed, shamefully in retreat, and closed the door of their master bathroom louder than he intended.
***
Jillian rolled over, turning her back toward Matt in the master bathroom. How could he give up so easily? What a stubborn jerk. What a shrouded mute. He’d locked himself up tighter than Houdini since she went back to work. It would take divine intervention to open him up. But this wasn’t the first time she’d felt like her husband was a stranger, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Once Matt got over whatever was bothering him, he’d make it up to her. Because once you adjusted to his silent spells, Matt was kind and sensitive. Loyal and patient.
She pulled her pyjamas out from under her pillow—turquoise plaid bottoms and a shapeless T-shirt. She shook them out, then paused, eyeing the baggy, unshapen form of the oversized shirt. When was the last time she dressed up a bit for Matt? Her little lacy chemise hung in the closet, collecting dust. But then so did her flirty sundresses and her make-up bag. She’d gotten in the habit of suppressing her femininity…
Femininity. Of course! Why hadn’t she seen it before? Gone were the days when she had an excuse to put in the effort. Too many hours working during the week meant housework and napping filled her weekends. So she wore comfortable, frumpy “home clothes”. Working in a male-dominated office meant she couldn’t wear anything that showed off her figure. Not if she wanted to be taken seriously.
Her job challenged her. She loved a formidable challenge, but maybe taking an executive role wasn’t worth it. Maybe the pressure and responsibility had carved away her soft spots and sharpened her into a battle-axe. When she’d been at home with the girls full-time, they’d spent afternoons at the park, singing nursery rhymes while she pushed them on the swing set. Now, she managed a client list of over three hundred. She’d baked cookies covered with sprinkles every week and now she crafted quarterly reports and calculated sales projections.
Maybe that’s why she didn’t do it for Matt anymore. Maybe he didn’t like this vice president version of her. He probably missed coming home to a woman who had nothing on her mind but family. Not that Matt ever complained, but there were some nights she couldn’t get dinner on the table—that really drove her nuts. He obviously didn’t want her to work; he tuned her out whenever she tried to tell him about her day.
She may have to quit. Relegate her career to the “someday” back burner and return to their simple, quiet life.
This time Kelly Miller grabbed the attention from her book, Accusing Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation is perfect for Jane Austen's book lovers.
About the author
Kelly Miller | Award-winning author Kelly Miller is a native Californian and Anglophile, who made her first visit to England in 2019.
Award-winning author Kelly Miller is a native Californian and Anglophile, who made her first visit to England in 2019. When not pondering a plot point or a turn of phrase, she can be found playing the piano, singing, or walking her dogs. Kelly Miller resides in Silicon Valley with her husband, daughter, and their many pets.
Death Takes a Holiday at Pemberley, a Pride and Prejudice Regency romantic sequel with a touch of fantasy, winner: Royal Dragonfly Book Awards and Indies Today Book Awards.
Mr. Darcy’s Perfect Match, a Pride and Prejudice Regency romantic variation.
Accusing Mr. Darcy, a Pride and Prejudice Regency romantic mystery, winner: Firebird Book Awards and Queer Indie Awards-Ally Division, Recommended Read: Author Shout Reader Ready Awards, Finalist: Wishing Shelf Book Awards.
A Consuming Love, a Pride and Prejudice Regency novella, winner: Royal Dragonfly Book Awards. Captive Hearts, a Persuasion Regency variation.
About The Book, Accusing Mr. Darcy (Austenesque Regency romance/mystery)
Accusing Mr. Darcy A Pride & Prejudice Variation
Could Fitzwilliam Darcy harbour a shocking, sinister secret?
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet count themselves among the many guests of the Kendall family, whose estate lies amidst the picturesque hills, gorges, and rocky slopes of the Peak District in Derbyshire. Elizabeth’s cousin Rose Kendall believes her dashing brother-in-law, Captain James Kendall, is Elizabeth’s ideal match. Rose’s husband, Nicholas, hopes his good friend Darcy—a rich, proud, and taciturn gentleman with a spotless reputation—will fancy one of the other eligible lady guests.
News of a brutal killing at a neighbouring estate sends a wave of shock through the genial group of friends and family. When one of the Kendalls’ guests is attacked, all of the gentlemen become suspects, but the former Bow Street runner tasked with investigating the crime finds the evidence against Mr. Darcy particularly compelling.
In this romantic mystery of Accusing Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation by Kelly Miller, the beloved couple from Jane Austen’s “Pride & Prejudice” cross paths with a ruthless killer. When faced with dire warnings against Mr. Darcy, will Elizabeth heed them or follow the dictates of her heart?
This is the best kickstart paragraph of “Accusing Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation” by Kelly Miller, which intrigue the reader instantly.
Saturday, 28 March 1812
Josiah entered the shadowy room. Narrow shafts of light pierced crevices between the closed window coverings to guide his path. A lifelong exposure to harshness and volatility induced the hesitance that encumbered each protracted step. He paused, and one hand smoothed his hair, dishevelled from his travel. His nostrils crinkled. The musty air that pervaded his mother’s room combined with the cloying fragrance her maid applied each morning to assail his senses. He breathed through his mouth and took his usual seat. Soon the smell would no longer be noticeable. He raised his eyes with a smile. “Good day, Mother. I had a successful trip to town.”
In the faint illumination, Mother’s eyes resembled flinty slits. “So you are home at last. London—always London! You must find a way to work closer to home.”
He gnashed his teeth. That old complaint again! With several measured breaths, he managed a calm, even tone. “We have reviewed this topic many times. It cannot be helped. This work is much too risky to carry out close to home. The important point is that I have rid England of another sinner. You may rejoice that a blight upon this world has been eliminated.”
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जीवन जीना यानि क्या? जब हमारी निराशा आशा में बदल जाएगी, तो जीवन अपने आप बदल जाएगा। निराशा को आशा में बदलकर हम कैसे आगे बढ़ सकते हैं, इसके बारे में जानिऎ। हालांकि, निराशा कोई ऐसी चीज नहीं है जिसके चंगुल में फंसा कोई भी व्यक्तिइससे बाहर न निकल सके या जीवन को उम्मीद में न बदल सके। यदि आप प्रकृति के प्रति अपने प्रेम को बढ़ाते हैं और अपनी संगति में उसका विश्लेषण करते हैं, तो आपको बहुत सी ऐसी चीजें दिखाई देंगी जो आपको आनंदमय जीवन जीने और निराशा की हर भावना को त्यागने के लिए प्रेरित करेंगी। इसलिए, हम जीवन जीने के सर्वोत्तम तरीकों के बारे में चर्चाकरेंगे और निराशा को छोड़ना चाहेंगे। 5 सर्वोत्तम तरीके जीवन जीने के.
5 सर्वोत्तम तरीके जीवन जीने के | i'mBiking | Photo by Ali Arapoğlu from Pexels
अपनी आशाओं को जीवित रखें।
कभी भी घास के उस नरम पौधे को न देखें जिस पर लोग अक्सर अपने पैरों से चलकर आगे बढ़ते हैं और इंसानों के पैरों के नीचे बार-बार कुचले जाने के बावजूद यह जमीन पर मुरझा नहीं रहता है। हर बार वह फिरसे खिलकर उठता है और हवा में लहराने का साहस दिखाता है, इसके साथ अपनी ऊंचाई को भी बनाए रखता है। इसलिए, जब एक छोटा और कमजोर घास का पौधा आशादायी होने का इतना बड़ा उदाहरण पेश कर सकता है, तो आप भी दिखा सकते हैं कि आप भी इंसान के रूप में कितने अद्भुत हैं। दुनिया के तमाम लेखक, महापुरुष, समाज सुधारक, नेता और विजेता आदि सभी आशावादी रहकर इस हद तक ऊंचाई तक पहुंचे हैं। अपने लिए सोचने की कोशिश करें, इन सभी महान व्यक्तियों ने जीवन में पहले निराशा को आशा में बदलने की तरकीब सीख ली, फिर वे नई आशाओं के साथ आगे बढ़ने में सक्षम हुए।
अपने मानसिक स्वास्थ्य में सुधार करें।
अगर एक सैनिक निराशा में पड़ जाता है, तो उसकी हार निश्चित है और अगर यह निराशा किसी छात्रया प्रतियोगीता परीक्षाके उम्मीदवार में बस जाती है तो उसकी असफलता निश्चित है। इसका कारण यह है कि, निराशा शारीरिक और मानसिक शक्ति को निगल जाती है और उसे किसी भी कार्यमें सफलता के योग्यनहीं छोड़ती है। इसके विपरीत मन की आशा मनुष्य में उसकी शारीरिक और मानसिक शक्तिको इस कदर बढ़ा देती है कि चाहे कोई भी कठिन या बड़ा कार्य क्यों न हो, व्यक्तिकी जीत या सफलता पक्की हो जाती है। आप अपनी आंतरिक निराशा को आशा में बदल सकते हैं, आइए देखते हैं अपने जीवन में इसके कुछ असामान्य तरीके अपनाकर आप कैसे बेहतर जिन्दगी पा सकते है।
अपना जीवन कैसे व्यतीत करें।
सबसे ऊपर, सबसे पहले, दूसरों से इर्षा या घृणा करना बंद करो, कारण यह है कि नकारात्मकता एक घणा अंधेरा रहता है जहां वे भ्रष्टहोते हैं। अगर मन में नकारात्मकता है तो सकारात्मकता कभी नहीं होती। फिर जहाँ सकारात्मकता नहीं होती, वहाँ आशा नहीं रहती, क्योंकि केवल उस व्यक्तिकी सकारात्मक सोच ही अपने आप में आशा जगाती है। उजाले की चिंगारी जलाकर उम्मीद की एक नई किरण पैदा करती है।
दूसरा है, उन लोगों की बिल्कुल भी परवाह न करें जो केवल आप के अवगुणों की तलाश करते हैं और उन्हें उनमें से कोई अच्छेगुण नहीं देखते हैं। क्योंकि, ऐसे लोग जीवन में आशावादी रूप से आगे नहीं बढ़ सकते हैं या आगे बढ़ना नहीं चाहते हैं। उन लोगों पर ध्यान दें जो आपके सामान्य गुणों के असाधारण गुणों को बदलना पसंद करते हैं। इसके आलावा, अपनी आत्म-प्रेरणा का स्रोत बनें और अपने भीतर आशा का पौधा लगाएं।
-तीसरा, जीवन की परिस्थितियों का सामना किए या उनका विश्लेषण किए बिना कभी भी कोई निर्णय न करे या न लें। दशा और दीशा की स्थिति का विश्लेषण कर निर्णय ले। जीवन में किसी भी आपदा को स्थाई न समझें, समाधान की कामना करके साहस दिखाएं। जब हममें साहस हो और आशा का साथ दिया जाए तो हर कठिनाई का समाधान हो सकता है।
चौथा, इससे कोई फर्क नहीं पड़ता कि आप कुछ समय के लिए नाखुश हैं, तो क्या? यदि आप सोचते हैं कि मुझे कभी दुखी नहीं होना चाहिए, तो यह भी दुख का कारण बनता है। वैसेही, बहुत समय दुख में बिताना भी खतरे से खाली नहीं है, जीवन वह है जो खुशियों से भरा हो। लंबे समय तक दुःख सहने से जीवन बर्बाद हो जाएगा। कोई बात नहीं, दुख हमारे जीवन का एक हिस्साहै। बस इस दुख से निकलने का रास्ता खोजे और फिर से खुशियों की ओर बढ़ो।
आखिर में, दूसरों पर निर्भर रहने के बजाय, जो आपके पास है उसमें खुशी से जीवन जीने की आदत डालें, क्योंकि उस व्यक्तिमें आशा कायम नहीं रह सकती जो हमेशा छोटी-छोटी चीजों के लिए दूसरों की ओर देखता है यानि अपेक्षारखता हो। हमेशा अपने आत्मसम्मान को बनाए रखने की कोशिश करें और आत्मनिर्भर जीवन जीना सीखें। अगर हम ऐसा करते हैं तो निराशा भी आशा के सूरज की तरह चमकेगी और आगे बढ़ती रहेगी।
Summary
This article explores a person's reason for living life, tells the story of how to live life to a person surrounded by despair. In this article, the ways for that person to convert a hopeless life into hope, and how these methods help in maintaining their mental health. Your whole life goes through episodes like hope, despair, or joy and sorrow. Hence, this article provides a guide to get out of the phase of your pessimistic life. How to spend your whole life, know only in Five Best Ways to Live Life.
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मराठी सारांश
हा लेख एखाद्या व्यक्तीचे जीवन जगण्याचे कारण शोधतो, निराशेने वेढलेल्या व्यक्तीला जीवन कसे जगावे याची कथा सांगते. या लेखात त्या व्यक्तीचे हताश जीवनाचे आशेमध्ये रूपांतर करण्याचे मार्ग आणि या पद्धतीने त्यांचे मानसिक आरोग्य राखण्यात कशी मदत करतात हे सांगितले आहे. तुमचे संपूर्ण आयुष्य तुमचे सुख, दु:ख आणि आशा, निराशा यांसारख्या प्रसंगांतून जाते. म्हणूनच हा लेख तुमच्या निराशावादी जीवनाच्या टप्प्यातून बाहेर पडण्यासाठी मार्गदर्शन प्रदान करतो. तुमचे संपूर्ण आयुष्य कसे घालवायचे, जीवन जगण्याचे फक्त पाच सर्वोत्तम मार्गमध्ये जाणून घ्या.
Amazon self-publishing books is perceptive nowadays. It is easiest, cost saving, freedom to write, fastest and easily made available tools which provided with printing and e-book facility.
Book publishing is among the most prominent businesses worldwide. However, it can be a long and tedious process to pass through the multiple checks of traditional publishers and their editors and manuscript reviewers. You may even be an author who is absolutely fed up with querying and rejection emails. Yet, you haven’t found a way out of traditional publishing or the web of vanity publishers.
However, I’d like to tell you that the modern publishing industry has now created a great solution in the form of self-publishing platforms for all those authors. Who dreams to touch and feel their hard work sooner than they would do via a traditional route. As a self-published author myself, I’d love to share below some wonderful benefits of self-publishing that may clear a few of your confusions about it.
Freedom to write
Whether you are a fantasy writer or a mystery author, you may not like to be bound by the genre in which you write or in the style you write. As every author has their own way of expressing their thoughts and communicating what their soul desires to communicate, they need the freedom to write, like they need their food or a few cups of coffee, probably! If you are that type of writer who wishes to break the boundaries with their creative work, then self-publishing would allow you to follow your heart and never judge you for what you create.
Faster self-publishing
Amazon Self-publishing books tremendously cuts down on the waiting time for your book to arrive in the market and reach the appropriate reader base. Most Amazon self-publishing platforms provide you with options to easily create your books using the basic manuscript you have. On top of that, popular platforms like Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing also connect you to the paid services if you are unable to edit your own book or format it. With such help, you can quickly complete the process of preparing your book for self-publishing.
Availability of help tools
If you are stressed about creating your book cover or formatting it for a digital platform, then you should stop worrying. Self-publishing platforms may offer you the online options to create digital and paperback book covers and even take care of your problem to get the ISBN numbers for your physical books. You may also download their easy-to-use software tools when you are ready to develop a platform-compatible manuscript file that can be accessed seamlessly by the readers who use different reading devices, such as Kindle e-readers.
Self-publishing is Affordability
Instead of being trapped by a vanity publisher that charges you a huge sum of your hard-earned money for publishing your work, why not choose an option that lets you come up with your book at almost no cost! Yes, self-publishing usually does not involve any direct costs, while you may have to spend on add-on services if you cannot edit your content by yourself, illustrate for your words, or design a cover. However, these indirect costs will anyway have to be paid for, even when you go for traditional publishing. You can also save more if you are aware of the free third-party services for cover creation and design or content formatting.
Multiple printing options
Most authors find it annoying to follow every rule of printing and publishing their book that is dictated by a traditional publisher. If you feel the same way, then Amazon self-publishing not only rescues you but gives you many options to print your book the way you desire. You can decide on the look and feel of the manuscript and the cover, as well as the paper type and texture you would use to print it. Different printing options are available at different prices. Thus, you can even select a lower-cost printing option as per your budget or the profit margin you want to keep.
Amazon self-publishing books Choices galore
Since you are the publisher on Amazon self-publishing platform, you can review numerous choices while producing a publish-ready book. From a variety of design fonts and colors to a wide range of print paper sizes and finishes, everything remains under your control.
Higher royalties at Amazon Self Publishing
The most lucrative thing about self-publishing is the receipt of every penny of royalty directly in your bank account. There are no middlemen, except what the platform charges for printing your book and distributing it online or offline. While traditional publishing may not even fetch you a breakeven amount in spite of its promotional hassles, you can claim a much higher royalty rate from self-publishing platforms, provided you are good at product marketing and finding workable promotional platforms. Well, nothing comes without hard work.
Final thoughts
Using your money for advertising your self-published work not only brings in improved financial rewards, but also keeps you away from money-sucking vanity publishers. Self-publishing is a fine way to achieving creative control, motivating self to produce better work. And most of all, empowering self and learning to be independent in your choices and decisions as a managing authority of what is precious to you.
