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Rosemary Mac Cabe was always a serial monogamist—never happier than when she was in a relationship or, at the very least, on the way to being in one. But in her desperate search for ‘the one’—from first love to first lust, through a series of disappointments and the searing sting of heartbreak—she learned that finding love might mean losing herself along the way. This Is Not About You is a life story in a series of love stories.

About 2400 years ago, the Greek philosopher Aristotle wrote one of the most important pieces of logic. Within his treatise rhetorical, he showed that the claims are more persuasive when articulated within three distinct but inseparable dimensions: ethos (credibility), logos (reason,) and pathos (emotion). Over the subsequent 125 years, attitudes have generated considerable interest in social sciences because of the widespread perception that they have a strong influence on actions, decisions, and judgments.

Once there was a bridge and a terrible and VERY hungry troll lived underneath it. When the three Billy Goats Gruff decide to clip-clop across the bridge to get to the grassy ridge, the troll is already imagining all the way to prepare a delicious goat dinner. But the troll underestimates those seemingly sweet but oh-so-savvy goats!

Dans un monde où les sujets de stress et d'anxiété ne manquent pas, notre collection "Relaxation guidée et musique" va vous aider à retrouver une certaine sérénité, un véritable bien être intérieur à l'écoute de nos exercices de relaxation et de nos musiques. Une voix paisible, une musique apaisante, et c'est tout un univers de quiétude intérieure qui s'ouvre en vous. L'objectif de nos différents titres est tout simplement de vous aider à vous détendre, à vous relaxer et à vous endormir.

Dans un monde où les sujets de stress et d'anxiété ne manquent pas, notre collection " Relaxation guidée et musique " va vous aider à retrouver une certaine sérénité, un véritable bien être intérieur à l'écoute de nos exercices de relaxation et de nos musiques. Une voix paisible, une musique apaisante, et c'est tout un univers de quiétude intérieure qui s'ouvre en vous. L'objectif de nos différents titres est tout simplement de vous aider à vous détendre, à vous relaxer et à vous endormir.

Die Geschichte des Mannes, der dem Heer des Kalifen Einhalt gebot - ein actionreicher historischer Roman über den kaum bekannten "Eudo von Aquitanien": Als Eudo im Jahr 700 zum Herzog von Aquitanien ernannt wird, träumt er davon, dort als unabhängiger König zu herrschen. Dazu muss er sich sowohl gegen seinen Lehnsherren, den König der Franken, behaupten, als auch seine südlichen Grenzen gegen die Mauren schützen. Zu diesem Zweck geht Eudo ein gewagtes Bündnis ein: Er verheiratet seine Tochter mit dem Berberfürsten Munuza.

Following the assassination of Emperor Gaius Caligula in AD 41, his uncle, Claudius, assumed the imperial throne. After establishing his legitimacy and stabilizing his position with the Roman Senate and people, he looks to legitimize himself militarily. His eyes turn toward Britannia, the elusive isle that even Julius Caesar failed to conquer. Far from being unknown to the rest of the world, various Britannic peoples have maintained trade relations with the continent, and a few of the tribal kingdoms have even formed alliances with Rome that extend back decades.

The photographs, under a title that described the image’s contents in the crudest possible terms, were of Kristen. In the bedroom, in our living room, getting into and out of the shower. Even standing before the cooker top, wearing just an oversized pullover and a red thong as she prepared pasta. I felt sick as the implications began to sink in. Not only were these invasive and highly intimate photographs that had somehow made their way onto a public platform, they were photographs that she clearly believed that I had taken and disseminated.

Enjoy this short story by Mace Styx.

She closed her eyes. Her house sounded different. She could hear animals scurrying outside, the wind blowing faintly off the treetops and murmuring. It was as if her whole neighborhood was now in range of her ears. Opening her eyes abruptly, she decided she would do something besides eavesdrop on the neighborhood. She picked up her notepad and flipped to the back. She found a pencil and began drawing - nothing in particular. When she had finished, she marveled at it in confusion. It looked like some sort of cave system. Shrugging, she picked up her notepad and began scribbling.

On the first day of my stay, I just spent most of my time roaming about the woods and taking pictures. The selling point of this place was undoubtedly the beautiful nature that was surrounding it. I didn’t use the motor bike since its noise would scare away the animals, and I was able to take some great shots of the gorgeous scenery and its inhabitants. As I was strolling, I noticed some peculiar etchings on the trees that were clearly carved by a human. It was some kind of sigils or characters that were foreign to me.

Feems explained, with the use of a tiny bowl, what the whole thing was about and the science behind how it worked. He never quite got to the point where he explained how in God’s name he had convinced them to let him do it, but we didn’t care. “So, the swimming pool is going to be emptied in the next fortnight, all the pumps replaced to get ready for the big swim meet. So, before they replace everything, I’ve convinced them to let me have a go with the swimming pool to do an experiment.”

A new message. She was glad for a little distraction. Without pausing from walking, she let her fingers skillfully reply to the text. The second she pressed the send button, her music cut back on at full blast, startling her. Her phone slipped out of her grip and slammed onto the street. Wincing, she picked it up slowly, still spooked by the event that had just taken place. Her heart was now thumping rapidly. She practically ran to her street before looking both ways. With each step, her chest tightened.

Perhaps some heavy sheet of twisted metal, the engine or outer frame of his vehicle. He scoured his memory, trying to recall what he had been doing immediately before he had awoken, but the account came back blank. Like the times he had drunken himself into a blackout, he had clearly lost time; where the memory should be, there was nothing - just a blank void, a gap in the recording.

Eilidh Duncan's explosive dossier exposes massive corruption and criminality brewing in the dark heart of the UK Establishment.... Sound familiar? As she follows leads, her investigation exposes layer after layer of fraud in government procurement and contracting linked to international banking and criminal networks.

Sex, Chicken and CoCo Butter is a narrative taken from the pages of the author’s journals during the five years of learning about different sex lifestyles, including: BDSM, polyamorous, and swinging. Streaming from sex addiction he and his wife at the time, went through a lot of trials and tribulations creating events you couldn’t believe. The author generously opens up his life and relationships to showcase for listeners the power relationships with people can have in their lives.

James. Was he inside the house, alive? There was nobody else at the scene of this horrendous crime. James was missing and nowhere to be found. The couple had multiple stab wounds and even bite marks all over their bodies. And their attention turned to suspecting that James was the one who murdered his own parents.

The problem with the area, especially at night, was that it backed onto the woods. This being England, and the wildlife of England being what it is, there was no threat from any animals. There might, on occasion, be the odd stray dog out there, but even that wasn’t anything to really worry about. Yet, several members of staff, who would happily take out the bags full of waste in the daylight, refused to even entertain the idea of going out there at night.

The Reaper did not speak. He did not even move, for what need did he have to chase anyone? Everyone comes to him eventually. Men, women, and gods all are consumed in his ever waiting black. Clive, sighing deeply, turned to look Death in the face. In the form he took for Clive, Death stood around seven feet tall, the hood of his monk’s cowl falling to just above the bridge of the nose, had there been a nose to speak of. Instead, there was simply a hole, a cavernous nothing, like death itself.

She blinked at Sir Farridan’s sudden entrance. He was surprised by how ordinary-looking she was, for a princess - they were supposed to be wispy little things, delicate and ungodly beautiful. Princess Idrun wore a simple white gown, her unruly blonde hair falling down to her hips, a greenish cast to it in the light. How will Sir Farridan rescue a princess who doesn't want to be rescued?