Andrew Lang was a Scottish writer best known for collecting folklore, legends, and fairy tales and making a compendium of them to celebrate ethnic heritage.
Andrew Lang was a Scottish writer best known for collecting folklore, legends, and fairy tales and making a compendium of them to celebrate ethnic heritage.
http://books.google.com/books?id=dNMjAAAAMAAJ
"BUT I AM GRIEVED I HAVE NO VIRGIL." P. 160
PARSON KELLY
BY
A. E. W. MASON
AND
ANDREW LANG
NEW YORK
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
LONDON AND BOMBAY
Shakespeare, Bacon and the Great Unknown by Andrew Lang
Leland, the world's most eligible bachelor and powerful President, was rumored to be in love-with Valerie, the nation's favorite punchline. Once rejected by his nephew and scorned for her looks, Valerie faced public outrage for "leeching" off Leland's status and entering government circles. Elite society mocked, rivals sneered. But the tables turned: the mafia king was spotted carrying her bags, scientists begged for her help, and Valerie saved the nation. As chaos erupted, Leland posted on the presidential account. "My wife wants to dump me-how do I win her back? Urgent advice needed!"
A year into the marriage, Thea rushed home with radiant happiness-she was pregnant. Jerred barely glanced up. "She's back." The woman he'd never let go had returned, and he forgot he was a husband, spending every night at her hospital bed. Thea forced a smile. "Let's divorce." He snapped, "You're jealous of someone who's dying?" Because the woman was terminal, he excused every jab and made Thea endure. When love went cold, she left the papers and stormed off. He locked down the city and caught her at the airport, eyes red, dropping to his knees. "Honey, where are you going with our child?"
Caroline was rejected by her mate of four years, because she was scentless.A flaw no werewolf could accept. Her mate proposed to her cousin instead. That night, heartbroken and humiliated,she let her best friend drag her to a masquerade ball. She gave herself to a masked Alpha, mysterious and devastatingly handsome. They didn't exchange names. Just one wild night of hard kisses and rough touches. He pinned her against the wall, his powerful body grinding into hers while she moaned beneath his hungry mouth. What she thought would be a sweet one-night affair turned into an unexpected pregnancy. Three years later, Caroline has rebuilt her life in a new pack, hiding her past and raising her son. But her new boss, Alpha Draven, is ruthless, controlling, and dangerously attractive... Especially those violet eyes, the same ones she sees in her son every day. Alpha Draven torments her at work, yet she challenges him at every turn. He doesn't know she's the woman he's been searching for since that fated night. While he's still hunting for his true mate, He has no idea she's already in his office... and has been raising his heir.
Katherine endured mistreatment for three years as Julian's wife, sacrificing everything for love. But when his sister drugged her and sent her to a client's bed, Katherine finally snapped. She left behind divorce papers, walking away from the toxic marriage. Years later, Katherine returned as a radiant star with the world at her feet. When Julian saw her again, he couldn't ignore the uncanny resemblance between her new love and himself. He had been nothing but a stand-in for someone else. Desperate to make sense of the past, Julian pressed Katherine, asking, "Did I mean nothing to you?"
Her ex-husband declared, "The person I admired most was that legendary racer." She smiled thinly. "Hate to break it to you-that was me." He said, "Jealous I blew a fortune on a world-famous jeweler for Violet?" She let out a cool laugh. "Funny, that designer trained under me." He scoffed, "Buying a dying firm won't put you in my league. Snap out of it." She shrugged. "Weird-I just steered your company off a cliff." Stunned, he blurted out, "Baby, come back. I'll love you forever." She wrinkled her nose. "Hard pass. Keep your cheap love." Then she took a mogul's arm and never looked back.
I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.
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