Risultati di "S and J" in Tutte le categorie

A Buckingham Palace l'autunno del 2016 si prospetta particolarmente gravoso: la regina Elisabetta deve occuparsi di un referendum che ha diviso la nazione, di una Brexit alle porte e di un imponente piano di ristrutturazione della dimora reale. Eppure l'ordine delle sue preoccupazioni è stravolto quando il cadavere di una governante viene ritrovato a bordo piscina. Si tratta di una tragica fatalità o a Buckingham Palace sta accadendo qualcosa di sinistro?

It was supposed to be a harmless kiss at a lavish debutante ball. A clandestine moment with a handsome stranger. But unlike his namesake, my Romeo isn’t driven by love. He’s fueled by revenge. To him, I’m a chess piece. Leverage. His rival’s betrothed. To me, he is a man deserving of poison. A dark prince I refuse to marry. He thinks I’ll accept my fate. Well, I plan to rewrite it. And in my story, Juliet doesn’t die. But Romeo? He perishes.

È un mite inizio di primavera al castello di Windsor e la regina Elisabetta si sta preparando per le celebrazioni del suo novantesimo compleanno. Le attività tuttavia sono bruscamente interrotte non appena il giovane pianista russo che ha deliziato gli ospiti la sera precedente viene ritrovato cadavere, completamente nudo, appeso in camera sua con la cintura della vestaglia. Quando le indagini si concentrano sulla servitù, la regina capisce che la polizia sta seguendo la pista sbagliata.

Mancano pochi giorni a Natale e la regina Elisabetta II attende di celebrare le festività in famiglia, come da tradizione, nella tenuta reale di Sandringham; tra cene con figli, nipoti e pronipoti e serate trascorse davanti al fuoco, le vacanze sono da sempre un momento atteso, lontano dall'etichetta e dagli obblighi di corte.

Okay, so my bad for assuming the guy I was going on a date with wasn't married. And my bad for taking him to a friend's house for dinner, only to find out my friend is also friends with his wife. Because, in fact, he is married. And she happens to be at my friend's house because her husband was "busy working." Confused? So am I. Unsurprisingly, my date's wife is super angry about finding out that her husband is a cheating asshole. Girl, I get it. Then to make matters more convoluted, there is the man sitting next to my date's wife. A man named King, who is apparently her brother.

È il 1957 e la giovane Elisabetta II, di ritorno dal suo primo viaggio a Parigi nei panni di sovrana del Regno Unito, viene informata di un duplice omicidio: un uomo e una donna sono stati uccisi in un pied-à-terre frequentato da alcuni membri del Club Artemis, un esclusivo gruppo dell'alta società inglese di cui fa parte lo stesso principe Filippo. L'ultima cosa di cui ha bisogno la giovane Elisabetta, che sta lavorando alacremente perché il suo paese abbia un ruolo rilevante nell'Europa del dopoguerra, è uno scandalo che la coinvolga.

Running away from home at 17 wasn't easy. Let's face it, though, nothing before or in the ten years since has ever been easy for me. And I'm doing okay—sorta. I just need to keep scraping by, living under the radar. Staying out of people's way, off people's minds. When a man walks through my open patio door, stepping boldly into my home and my life, I should be scared, frightened, terrified. I must be more broken than I realized because I'm none of those things. I'm intrigued—and I'm wondering if the way to take control of my life is by giving in to him.

When I was nine, I went to my first funeral. Along with accepting my father's death, I had to accept new and awful truths I wasn't prepared for. When I was nineteen, I went to my mother's funeral. We weren't close, but with her gone, I became more alone than ever before. Sure, I have a half-brother who runs The Alliance. And yeah, he's given me his protection—in the form of a bodyguard and chauffeur. But I don't have anyone that really knows me. No one to really love me. Until I meet him. The man in the airport.

I'm a dangerous man. A man who has spent the last two decades removing so many souls from this earth that it's a miracle my hands aren't permanently stained red. I'm a man who belongs in the shadows. I certainly don't belong in my pretty little neighbor's bedroom when she's not home, touching her things and inhaling her scent. I shouldn't follow her. Shouldn't watch her. No number of cookies on my doorstep will change the fact that love isn't an option for me. The only option left for me is violence.

I have a nice life—living in my hometown and owning the coffee shop I’ve worked at since I was 16. It’s comfortable on paper, but I’m tired of doing everything by myself. Tired of being in charge of every decision in my life. I want someone to lean on, someone to spend time with, sit with, hug. And I really don’t want to go to my best friend’s wedding alone. So, I signed up for a dating app and agreed to meet with the first guy that messaged me. Now here I am, at the bar. Only it’s not my date that just sat down in the chair across from me. It’s his dad.

I fell in love with Beckett when I was 7. He broke my heart when I was 15. When I was 18, I promised myself I’d forget about him. And I did. For a dozen years. But now he’s back home. Here. In Darling Lake. And I don’t know if I should give in to the temptation swirling between us or run the other way.

There are a few things that life doesn’t prepare you for. Like what to do when a super-hot guy catches you sneaking around in his basement, or what to do when a mysterious package shows up with tickets to a hockey game (because, apparently, he’s a professional athlete). Nor how to handle it when you get to the game and realize he’s freaking famous, since half of the 20,000 people in the stands are wearing his jersey.

With River Valley Hospital in the midst of negotiations to avert a nurses' strike, a wealthy benefactor is set to give a large donation in honor of the Chief of Emergency Medicine: Dr. Elliott Chin, the brother of private investigator Lydia Chin.

My friends found their happily-ever-afters with a couple of sweet, doting, over-the-top, in-love athletes. They got nicknames like Kitten and Sugar. But me? I got stuck with a dickhead who riles me up on purpose and calls me Banshee. Yeah, he might have a voice made explicitly for wet dreams. And he might have a body and face carved by the gods. And he might have a level of Alpha-hole that gets me all hot and bothered. But when he presses my buttons, he presses ALL my buttons.

My friends have convinced me: no more hockey players. With a dad who is the Head Coach for the Minnesota Sleet, it seemed like an easy decision. My friends have also convinced me that the best way to boost my fragile self-esteem is through a one-night stand. A dating app. A hotel bar. A sexy-as-hell man who’s sweet, and funny...and did I mention sexy-as-hell?

My trip to Mexico for my cousin's wedding was only supposed to be a few days of obligation and oceanside. I wasn't expecting Luke. Wasn't expecting the hot hockey player, with the smirks and the tattoos, who kept bumping into me. And I certainly wasn't expecting to spend a night on the beach, under the stars, underneath him. It was magical, but I thought it would end there. Instead, we exchanged numbers and stayed in touch. So when Luke invited me to watch him play in Vegas, I went. And it was great. Until we woke up the next morning and found the wedding certificate in my pocket.

Several months ago, I was the queen of English Prep. The boys stopped in their tracks at the sight of my too-short plaid skirt, and the girls cowered behind their locker doors, envious of me ruling the halls with the most desired boy by my side. But the thing about queens? They often fall to their own demise.

English Prep has always been known for housing the most uppity, privileged rich kids in all of Pike Valley. That is what has been driven into my brain since attending the opposing prep academy in the area since middle school. So when I am hastily pulled out of Wellington Prep and thrown into English Prep my junior year, it feels like I am being thrown to the wolves. My plan is to blend in and to remain invisible, so I fly under the radar, staying away from the "in" crowd. Then I lock eyes with Ollie Powell.

I'm starting to think I've been doing this for too long. The screaming fans. The constant media attention. The fat paychecks. None of it brings me the happiness I yearn for. Yet here I am. Another year. Another holiday special. Another Christmas spent alone in a hotel room. But then the lights go up. And I see her.

I should have run the other way. Paid my tab and gone back to my room. But he was there. And he was…everything. I figured, what’s the harm in letting passion rule my decisions for one night? So what if he looks like the Devil in a suit? I’d be leaving in the morning, flying home to my pleasant but predictable life. I’d never see him again. Except I do. In the last place I expected. And now everything I’ve worked so hard for is in jeopardy.