Mostrando resultados por autor "alina" en Todas las categorías

I used to be a cop, and now I kill people for fun. Yeah, yeah I know. Never admit to your crimes. But you don't know who I am. To you, I'm just words in a blurb. Besides, I don't plan on living that long anyway. The system has failed us. There is no justice. So, before I go, I'll be the justice. You know. AKAB. All Killers Are Bastards, or however the fuck the saying goes.

La ruda no es solo una planta, es una herramienta directa para limpiar, proteger y reorganizar el campo energético. Este libro te guía paso a paso en su uso práctico, desde rituales hasta aplicaciones cotidianas, para eliminar interferencias, cortar cargas negativas y mantener estabilidad en tu vida. Aquí no encontrarás teoría innecesaria, sino métodos claros para trabajar con su energía de forma consciente, segura y efectiva.

La ruta non è solo una pianta, è uno strumento diretto per pulire, proteggere e riorganizzare il campo energetico. Questo libro ti guida passo dopo passo nel suo utilizzo pratico, dai rituali alle applicazioni quotidiane, per eliminare interferenze, tagliare cariche negative e mantenere stabilità nella tua vita. Qui non troverai teoria inutile, ma metodi chiari per lavorare con la sua energia in modo consapevole, sicuro ed efficace.

La rue n’est pas seulement une plante, c’est un outil direct pour nettoyer, protéger et réorganiser le champ énergétique. Ce livre vous guide pas à pas dans son utilisation pratique, des rituels aux applications quotidiennes, pour éliminer les interférences, couper les charges négatives et maintenir la stabilité dans votre vie. Vous n’y trouverez pas de théorie inutile, mais des méthodes claires pour travailler avec son énergie de manière consciente, sûre et efficace.

Rue is not just a plant, it is a direct tool to cleanse, protect, and reorganize the energetic field. This book guides you step by step in its practical use, from rituals to everyday applications, to remove interference, cut negative energy, and maintain stability in your life. You will not find unnecessary theory here, but clear methods to work with its energy in a conscious, safe, and effective way.

Protecting her identity means life or death in this immersive epic fantasy inspired by the Mughal Empire. In a different life, under a different name, Razia Khan was raised to be the Crown Prince of Nizam, the most powerful kingdom in Daryastan. Born with the soul of a woman, she ran away at a...

Spanning nearly a century, from 1930s Siberia to contemporary Brighton Beach, a page turning, epic family saga centering on three generations of women in one Russian Jewish family—each striving to break free of fate and history, each yearning for love and personal fulfillment—and how the...

Armed with comfy pants, overpriced coffee, and a highly anxious emotional-support corgi, I prepare to face him. Corporate boss. Villain. Salinger Svensson. I step into his office. His perfect mouth twists into a sneer. There is no heart of gold beneath that suit, just a big black pit. He’s a shark in the frothy waters of high-stakes finance. He might be the archetypal-asshole CEO, causing all in his path to quake in fear, but he’s never had to face down a basic bitch in her thirties.

Chris Winchester is a billionaire with serious trust issues, and I am a photographer trying to survive in the world of high-end weddings. And the billionaire’s penthouse is about to be marriage and a murder if he doesn’t stop hitting his snooze button a thousand bazillion times in the morning, while I’m trying to work and get my life back on track.

I should be hiding away with wine and snacks while waiting for Christmas to end. Instead, I’m wearing a reindeer mascot costume and pretending I’m oh-so-excited to meet New York City’s most eligible billionaire bachelor! Christmas is already a stressful time of the year without adding a billionaire to the mix. Between dodging bake-off sabotaging cousins, applying for a long-shot prestigious museum internship, and trying to survive being broke in Manhattan, I’m up to my black lipstick in my own special nightmare before Christmas.

When you're a blacklisted preschool teacher and somehow end up coaching the worst team in the NHL, it's shaping up to be the crappiest Christmas ever. We’re adding an NHL head-coaching job to the Yule log dumpster fire of my holiday season. I lost my apartment and had to move back home for the holidays. My mom sneaks into my bedroom to watch me sleep because she “can’t help it. I missed my little girl so much, Ellie!” And my day-drinking granny has declared herself the team's new equipment manager so she can ogle hockey butts in the locker room.

Christmas is bad enough without all the music, frantic shopping sprees, and holiday parties. So many parties… with people you couldn’t stand in high school and definitely can’t stand now. Top of the list? Patty Harrison. She made my teen years miserable and, now that we’re adults, she’s trying to get me banned from the Christmas market. Even so, I’m not going to commit literal murder.

Welcome to life as a wedding dressmaker for the rich and entitled of Manhattan. I’ve seen it all - from the most spoiled brides to the most egotistical Wall Street bros. The worst? Mark Holbrook. Billionaire. Arrogant. Knockout sexy. Certifiable jerk. He hates weddings, and I hate him.

The Thanksgiving turkey is still warm, and I’m already up to my eyeballs in debt from my failed business. To make matters worse, my knight in flannel never appeared—you know, the guy, the one who was tall, dark, and plaid, who had a friendly yellow lab and a truck and sold firewood, the one who showed the big-city heroine the true meaning of love and Christmas. Yeah, he did not come rescue me.

My new billionaire boss looks like he needs something sweet in his life. I graciously offered to let him stick his hand in my candy jar. It has salt water taffy and gummy worms! I can't believe he thought it was inappropriate! In an effort to redeem myself, I set out to show Mace that I wasn't a clumsy, car-destroying, electronic-killing, accident-prone, walking disaster. That lasted all of five minutes before I set his seaweed and quinoa lunch on fire. Yeah, I didn't know that was a thing either. 

I thought I had my life all planned out—great career, swanky condo, wonderful fiancé.... A fiancé who did not show up to our wedding. A bride’s worst nightmare came true, live in front of all my family and friends. And his family and friends. Ryan James was the cake topper on top of this wedding cake of humiliation. All I wanted was to clear everyone out of the venue, throw the hors d'oeuvres in the trash, then light the wedding cake on fire. But Ryan insisted on still holding cocktail hour. And the elaborate five-course meal I had planned. And dancing.

I kept smiling when I caught my fiancé coming down my sister’s chimney on Christmas Eve. I gave polite congratulations when they got engaged. And I even offered to help decorate for their Christmas wedding despite the fact that was supposed to be my dream wedding. But when my sister cuts up my great-grandmother’s one-hundred-year-old wedding dress and turns it into a skank show, even though that was the dress I was going to wear on my wedding day? Well, this elf is torching down the North Pole.

After the first taste of her Christmas cookies I wanted to shove the whole thing in my face. The whole plate of cookies, that is. Not...you know. Christmas is bad enough without one of The Great Christmas Bake-Off contestants all wrapped up in a bow under my tree. Er...I meant...Christmas is horrible, right? Holly. Christmas is like the perfect sugar cookie - it slowly melts in your mouth, sweetening every taste bud, making you wish it could last forever. I love Christmas! I love the cheerful music, the fun sweaters, and the holiday lights.

I admit it was me who shouted, “Looking good, hot stuff!” at Mr. Richmond this morning, but I didn’t mean it like that. Yes, Mrs. HR Lady, I know how it looks. Believe me, I am totally anti-catcalling, but that’s not what that was. Honest. I was paying him a compliment! That’s kind of what I do: I’m a proud, small-town Floridian, and Manhattan is craving some Florida sunshine—nothing like a sincere compliment to turn those New York frowns upside down!

In my defense, I never claimed to be professional.... At least that’s my excuse for why I mistook a billionaire for a waiter, made off-color comments, and accidentally dumped a plate of food all over him. Embarrassing myself is a daily occurrence, just like my unpaid bill notices. But being in a wedding instead of planning one is not. I shall live vicariously through this high-end wedding and forget about the rent payments I’ve missed, the fact that my tiny apartment has no hot water, and that I’m about to be evicted anyway so it doesn’t even matter, anyway! Yay!