Manual LA COLECCIONISTA DE BESOS (Spanish Edition)

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Estamos embarazados by Rommy Cullen reviews Secuela Aprendiendo a ser padre The Tattoo by Emma.

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Vete a la mierda". Y lo acababa de mandar a la mierda. Ven conmigo. Bella Swan's Brand New Acid Test by volvosandlambs reviews Bella Swan no es femenina: no le gustan las faldas, ni tampoco salir de compras. Con la ayuda de una amigable vecina aprende que a veces, lo inesperado puede ser lo mejor que te pueda pasar en la vida. Ya no lo creo by WithoutHeart reviews Cuando Edward se vuelve popular, aleja por completo a su amiga de toda la vida. Desde entonces Bella comienza a experimentar sentimientos encontrados, determinando por fin que le odia HotNerd by Bite-that-apple Hale reviews Bella es una chica nerd, oculta bajo la apariencia de una chica popular.

Su planes, estudiar y trabajar para pagar los estudios pero La vida te puede cambiar con una simple mirada. El amor no era acerca de tener el uno junto al otro. Era acerca de sacrificios. Bajo tus sabanas by Sakura Moonlight T reviews Mis manos exploraban su cuerpo mientras me besaba, buscando sedienta mas de mi. Sentia su necesidad a flor de piel. Instintivamente pegaba mas mi cadera hacia la de ella, haciendole sentir mi prominente excitacion. Pero el no sabe los motivos que oculta Bella tras su partida.

El invierno que precede a la primavera by A. Pero para alcanzar la felicidad deberan sortear algun que otra prueba mas. El amor no sucede en un momento definido. Sucede en todos y cada uno de esos momentos. Rating M por lenguaje y escenas fuertes. Aunque en ese momento no pudieran imaginar la magnitud de ese cambio.

Ella, hija de un candidato a presidente de EEUU. Novia de alquiler by Evangeline. Te necesito a ti by Dany LopMs reviews Su familia la rechaza por estar con el ex novio de su hermana. La lluvia que purificaba by MeryAnne07 reviews La guerra acaba de terminar. La guerra trae dolor, pero consigo aprendizajes. Todos han aprendido algo en esta batalla Expresarse, decir lo que sienten, sincerarse.

Edward no estara solo. Un mes de placer! Suya by Emma. Ella, una simple universitaria. Terriblemente poderoso, posesivo y seductor. Este no se llevan muy bien con Edward, pues cree que le robara a su mami. Es claro que no pudo ser o si? Vivir una nueva vida by ClaudiaRiodeLobos reviews -Ella estaba sentada en un taburete de la barra, me esperaba, por supuesto, se bajo de un salto y vino directamente hacia mi Me parece la parte mas bello.

Gracias a Newton by A. De vacaciones by A. Mi querido profesor by A. Bella necesita un plomero para arreglar una tuberia de su casa, pero aparece un sexy y musculoso trabajador y sin pensarlo ese plomero tendra que arreglar otra fuga y no precisamente de agua Mal Summary.. No Creo en el Amor by A. O tal vez no by A.

Maestro para el verano by Mrs. Drogas, alcohol, sexo desenfrenado e irresponsable. Instintos Peligrosos by Naty Celeste reviews Que hubiera pasado si los papeles se hubieran invertido? Gracias por dejarme plantado by A. Ese dia que penso que nunca llegaria Ese dia Dolor by jossi. Su problema llega cuando tres apuestos chicos piden el sitio vacante. Todos Humanos! Estaba ciego. Se cruzaran sus destinos, para bien, o para mal. La vida nos da sorpresas by fanieCullen reviews Se conocieron en Miami, durante las vacaciones.

Se enamoraron perdidamente sin importarles la edad. Ahora es el momento de cumplirla. Anatomia by Ary Masen reviews Isabella Cullen tiene que presentar un examen final, pero cuando Edward llega a casa sera posible estudiar para tan importante parcial? When the stars go blue by Bloodymaggie81 reviews Chicago Bella y Edward estan comprometidos pero debido a circunstancias adversas, se separan. Las mentiras son un arte que no cualquiera puede dominar. Eso es amor fraternal xD. Edward le entra curiosidad y empieza a leerlo. Secrets by Victoria R. Orsini reviews Gracias al destino se encuentran nuevamente pero ya nada es igual, un misterio rodea a la chica sin que ella lo sepa.

Entra y descubre esta locura nueva. Cautivada por esos ojos verdes, se los encontro nuevamente en el lugar menos indicado, en su nuevo trabajo, pero ocultaban algo. En verdad esos ojos verdes eran los de un Cobarde? May I ask something? Tras mis ojos by tishacullengreen reviews primera parte de Los ojos del ayer. Falling in love for the first time by camimasen18 reviews Bella siente que su vida esta llena de soledad y no cree en el amor.

Hasta que llega de Londres un chico de cabellos cobrizos. Recordando el pasado y viviendo el presente by Ivis. Cullen reviews TH. La quieren ganar para el baile de fin de curso. Edward no quiere que ella vaya con ellos. Quiere que sea su novia, quiere que ella lo escoja por encima de cualquiera. They attack and Bella and Edward both die. So how come it's Bella's first day in Forks, all over again? Pero no todo es color rosa, ambos tienen pareja. Una noche, se encuentra a una dulce chica con la que se queda obsesionado Mal resumen Bella se ve obligada a contactar a aquel hombre que le quitaba el aliento y del que escapo, Edward Cullen.

Si esto es el destino by andri88 reviews Bella Swan es una chica maltratada y no tiene ninguna esperanza de escapar de su padrastro, James. Se esconde y aleja a las personas que se acercan demasiado a ella. Eterna Noche by The Cullen's Girls arg reviews Edward en su etapa rebelde, deja la casa paterna y decice volver a Chicago, para salvar al mundo de los malhechores Pero una noche encuentra a una mujer que es atacada en un callejon.

Una mujer que cambiara su mundo para siempre: Bella. El anillo by Dubbhe reviews Y es que aunque no quiere pensar mal, aunque se niegue a ceder ante el pesimismo Seguro que ha dejado de quererla Cartas de un admirador by Erew.

One Shoot. Entrada para el Contest: S. Kagome cae bajo un hechizo, ahora su amado es M por futuros lemmons. Borracho by 0-Luna Love-0 reviews Tal vez el alcohol no habia sido tan malo Algunas cosas ni el licor ni el amor pueden resolver del todo Oportunidades by Freya. Eres perfecto Alice y Jasper tiene gemelos y Lily esta comenzando a crecer. ExB Hot lemons.

Dejen reviews! Edward Cullen odia la navidad, de verdad la detesta, tanto que todos en su empresa son conscientes que no pueden desearle una "Feliz Navidad". Mafia vs Amor by LadyBeeQueen reviews La mafia amenaza a Bella, donde es forzada a realizar peligroso trabajos por poca paga. Edward POV. Dos, estoy enamorada de Edward Cullen. Renacimiento by Cinthia Swan reviews Bella ha renacido y se convierte en el vampiro que siempre quiso ser. Nunca fue una humana normal. OoC y escenas no aptas para menores o muy sensibles. Leer nota de autor.

Sus ambiciones no incluyen quedarse. Es cirujano. Y vampiro. Celos by Zoe Ch reviews Bella quiere salir a divertirse con sus amigas. Edward es su novio posesivo y celoso. Twisted Plans by lanenisita reviews El descubrimiento de un pasado retorcido hace mas dificil a un presente doloroso. Todos humanos Entre Crepusculo y luna nueva. Interesados llamar a Bella" TH. Huyendo sufre un accidente y pierde la memoria. Podra el hacerle recordar los momentos de pasion que vivieron? Lo iba a lamentar, como ella se llamaba Kagome Higurashi.

JxA one-shot. Incondicional by Shell Craig reviews Edward Cullen gran arquitecto, su mundo giraba en torno a las mujeres y el sexo. Bella Swan su gran y fiel asistente, ninguno de ellos quiere confesar lo que siente el uno por el otro. ET Mi chico del Tejado by Gery Whitlock reviews TeenageDreamsTwilightContest No sabia que mi vida cambiaria cuando una noche en el tejado de mi "casa" conseguiria a un chico de mirada hipnotizante y caricias magneticas. Es sobrenatural, es extraterrenal. No es justo—. Alice se enoja con el tonto sobreprotector de su marido tras la batalla en Eclipse.

Edward necesitaba una esposa rica para que lo ayudara con sus deudas. Share this: Twitter Facebook. Like this: Like Loading Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Email required Address never made public.

"Coleccionistas de Besos" Claudio Alcaraz (Letra)

Name required. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. El resto, imperturbable, solo se limitaba a observar. Tampoco las ansiaba, su existencia era simple.

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A esas horas Cornelio era uno de los pocos habitantes despiertos. En la puerta de la trastienda ya lo estaba esperando Billy, su ayudante. Primero, dejaron todas sus cosas- la voz de Cornelio aseguraba un claro desconcierto- Segundo…, es imposible. Es… como si hubiesen desaparecido. Llevaba toda una vida viviendo en esas tierras. Pero no esto. Por el momento, el desconcierto absoluto. Justamente por eso llevaba colgado del hombre su mejor rifle, y suficientes municiones en la bolsa. Llevaba una hora caminando tras llegar al abandonado pueblo.

Por lo menos seis o siete pares. A lo lejos, cerca del horizonte, vio un grupo de figuras humanas desconocida. El grupo se detuvo, y se dio vuelta. Algo no iba bien. Silencio nuevamente. Desconfiaba, pero no se iba a quedar de brazos cruzados. Disculpe usted, pero nos tenemos…. Aquellos hombres estaban en paz, no eran portadores de malos augurios ni de malas intenciones. Sostuvo su mirada en ellos, en sus ojos, en esas facciones relajadas. Lo necesitamos. Mi gente depende de ello.

Desaparecieron antes que el panadero pudiera darse cuenta. Short Story in English. The Streetlight. Janice Ng pressed her arms against the railing and looked out over the edge, down at the black coastal roads wending beneath her, gilded by a thousand street lamps and ensanguined by brake lights from shiny taxis and European sports cars. The briny rot of the tide and the sweet, muggy night-smell of the tropics were snuffed away at this altitude. All that remained was liquor, expensive perfume, sweat, and the grossly synthetic vanilla of stage smoke, wafting out from the band making a racket on the stage inside.

It was always bound to happen here, she mused. Someone would reach too far, with aspirations that exceeded the means, and the next thing they knew the ground would be rushing up to meet their blinking eyes and shatter them into blood, brain, and bones. Who would mourn, or change? Not a single person in this club she stood in, high above and apart from the city sprawled all around them. A concentration of lights, melded into one glowing heart, beating together and in sync. Yes, as long as the vessel functioned, the cogs could be overlooked. A slight nick or dent - whether caused by wear and tear or by a falling body - could be forgotten in time and adapted to, like a terminal illness, or an old war wound.

She stared at her companion. Chestnut skin, raised eyebrow, tall frame fleshed out by his two years in the army. Infantry, specifically, as he would happily remind her while flipping the bird at the sky. He used to be pudgier, wear glasses instead of contacts, abhor cigarettes, throw around a smile rather than a grimace.

Her hand tightened round her nearly empty hurricane glass and she pursed her lips, tasting the sweet and sour of the drink that lingered on her tinted gloss. Passionfruit, egg white, orange and grapefruit, spicy ginger. The one who leaned over the railing and just fell. Who else would dare? She frowned at the water below them. That's how it always was in this place.

Anything was possible, lexically or otherwise, when you were stuck on the seventy-second floor, overlooking a bay that glittered with reflections of the skyscrapers and searchlights. Anything could be willed into existence, whether it was a filled wallet, friends in high places, or a renewed desire for life. She wondered what it had been like looking out over the water two hundred years ago. Those men that had come on their wooden tallships, travelling for months with hardtack and scurvy, unable to shortcut through the nonexistent Suez, rounding the Cape and braving the squalls until the trade winds dropped them here, anchoring off a steaming jungle shoreline.

They probably thought they could do anything, too. This city, this country, this place could drive a person crazy in that invincible, exhilarating, self-destructive way. He followed her gaze down to the Friday night traffic and scoffed. Rush to wait and wait to rush. Perfect place for us to be. She looked down at her own bare hand.

Shun me for life maybe. Wind whipped over her cheeks, and blood rushed to her head, making it pound, making her flush with a vibrancy she was sure had already drained from her. You know that. At least while he sighed in exasperation, it also made him smile. Red gums, white teeth. She nodded as he began to walk off. That was always the solution. Alcohol or Panadol, whatever fit the bill. She followed him to the bar, listening as he ordered an old fashioned, mechanically asking for rum herself - straight, no ice, no water.

She clambered onto the black bar stool, tucking her knees under her like a child, and leaning against the railing until it dug into her ribs. Beside them, a couple of friends laughed over something on Instagram. She leaned over her drink, imagining the gold liquid sloshing in her glass was the new mint peach ice tea everyone was raving about. Not old rum, the kind that sailors and prostitutes used to drink in the Colonies because it was all they could afford, desperate to numb their overworked muscles and forget everything. What was the point of having anything if you never got to use it, after all?

She wanted Yusof to buy her overpriced American coffee, not hard liquor. She wanted him to stay, not use his new money to spirit himself away to the Alps or Cambridge or Silicon Valley with his new girl. There was no point in this place at all if nobody stayed, if nobody got to use what was theirs.

There was no point. She was fighting and fighting in spite of the eventual implosion she refused to acknowledge. Yusof clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. She rolled her fingers into fists. She took a swig of rum, hoping for it to go down wrong and let her choke.

It made her cough a few times, but nothing more. Oh hell, she was going to go mad.

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She wanted to smack her head against the glass of the railing until she began to feel something again, until she shattered, red blood, white bone. I need to get out, before this plastic metal shell of a city ruins me. I need to build myself up before I can come back and rebuild this place. Just arrogant enough to get off my ass.

Forsake it, I mean. Asia makes me sad, Europe makes me nostalgic. Here, I cry out for change. There, I realise the lamps were never relit. You never stopped believing it. Don't give that up now. His chewed his cheek, standing up. She was aware of a waiter coming over, of him apologising about the glass, and of the stares that watched them. Her heart rate rose, pounding against fragile ribs, so young, so futile from the beginning. They were staring, and they knew.

She was the weak link. She was the nick in the cog. Yusof looked at her, all concern and disappointment. He knew, too, even if he was too polite to say it. She was the failure, he the success. The briny rot of the tide reached up for her. Yusof swirled his old fashioned, listening to the ice clink off sides of the glass. Down here, in the bar district, the scents of hot concrete and sweat and cheap aerosol deodorant surrounded him like a toxic cloud.

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It was better than being at one of the sky bars. He looked at the one clearing the trees to his right. A party at its peak lit up the cloud cover in shades of pink and neon green. He gradually became aware of a presence at his side - a woman. Young, pretty, local. She was making eyes at him. Red cocktail dress, white face powder.

He glanced down once at his bare ring finger, and she decided that was her cue. The scars were too fresh - all of them. His voice came as a breath, almost lost to the cacophony. The woman blinked at him, then wrinkled her fair, delicate nose.


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How morbid. I try to keep my balance as I stagger across the terrace, trying to keep one foot in front of the other, my field of vision blurring in and out of focus. I block out these thoughts and manage to sit down steadily on the edge of the balcony, overlooking part of the city, the starry night sky an imposing view looking down on me, condemning my actions, judging my motives. All I wanted was fresh air. I can hear people talking inside my apartment, laughing, having fun at the party me and my husband Daniel were hosting. I laugh acidly at the situation.

The flashing lights of another, surely larger and wilder, party in the distance seem as alluring as they do accessible. I stretch my arm and wave my fingers; I can feel liveliness, the vibration of souls as lost and confused as my own, giving their sins away to the music. Oh, it is all so close. It all lies just at the tip of my fingers, peace and chaos, intertwined, my own disaster following suit.

I feel myself begin to shiver. The cold, metal bar which stops my body from precipitating onto the dark, hard, concrete under me feels like an icy torture above my waist. I laugh again. How can I care? I slide under the metal bar, sitting straight on the other side. Nothing is separating me from a mortal fall now. I feel steady, confident almost. For once, my life is the result of having achieved a perfect balance. I wonder, just for a second, what it would feel like to let myself slip away into the abyss of uncertainty, and it seems as easy to me in that moment as sliding down a toboggan, my parents waiting at the end, arms open.

I shudder at the dark energy consuming me. My black nail polish gleams like a deadly, foreshadowing force as I slide back behind the metal bar. A couple walks hand in hand down the street beneath me. Their elevated tone suggests an argument, a heated one, and I feel like an intruder lurking in the shadows; I am invading the scene of a life which is not mine to star in. The woman is visibly upset, and pulls away from the male figure holding her purse, whispering angrily about the inadequacy of the moment. I wonder why she would use that word; The Street is deserted.

She cannot possibly know they have an audience Or can she? I smile in the darkness and squint my eyes to distinguish the couple from the mesh of shadows around them, in the dim illumination provided by three lonely streetlights. The area under one of the streetlights is dimmer than the rest. They stand under it, and I wonder why. I soon realise it is not just a fight I am witnessing, it is a goodbye. They slowly come together, their uncertain steps separating them by a good fifty centimetres.

She is whispering, and unknowingly I lean forward to hear what she is saying, gasping in horror when I realise I am sitting on the literal edge of a building. My sleuthing surely must have death as a boundary. Lonely, strangers, separate. Separate what, lives? I cannot help but wonder. I begin to construct a narrative in my head. Why would such a beautiful woman feel lonely?

I hear the tone of the discussion shift from a lulling sadness to an overwhelming aggressiveness, the distance between them tingling with the remainder of forgotten memories and blurred sentiments. The man is shouting with desperation, the woman is deaf with indifference. No matter how far I may be I feel closer to them than ever. I can clearly from afar see the remains of a torn curtain of passion between them, in the present merely a piece of cloth blackened and consumed by a slow fire throughout the years. To them it is now barely an illusion, a string keeping both their lives together Like she said, separate.

Separate people, with separate lives, in separate worlds. A wave of guilt hits me like a crumbling wall from above. This moment is so intimate, so catastrophic for them both that a stranger should not be experiencing their heartbreak from a balcony like a morbid observer. The man is now weeping, grasping her head, pulling off her scarlet headband accidentally in the process.

I watch her look away, trying to contain her tears, turning her back on the man ever so slightly. The man takes advantage of this split-second of loneliness to quickly shove her headband into his suit pocket, crumpled and creased, yet a last desperate attempt at conserving something of her lover. I wonder what he will do with her headband if they do part ways. Will he lay it on her pillow at night, pretend her hair is still underneath it in the morning? Will he use it to wipe away his tears, as a reminder of the fatidic night where they realised they had nothing left in common, as a consolation that he will at least always safeguard something of hers even if just her headband?

Before I realise it, I am crying myself. How can an emotion so pure, Love, end in the saddest of tales? The rest of their words are lost to me in the thick night air; I can barely make out their murmurs from the traffic, of streets so far away from here that they almost seem normal.

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They hug. She cries. I sigh. It is clearly a goodbye hug. Will she ever regret ending a life together, no matter how long or short, passionate or dull, under the weakest Streetlight of an anonymous street? One day this Streetlight will falter, its bulb will burn out. Will I be watching, from this same balcony, remembering this same couple, I wonder? The couple leaves.

As abruptly as they interrupted my silent meditation they jump into their car and drive away into the night. A shiny Renault Megane, a trail of disillusionment behind it. I am left alone with my thoughts once again; me, and the metal bar, and the balcony, and the Street. I imagine what it would feel like screaming down onto the line of parked cars and adjacent houses. To pierce the silent night with a noise so loud its echoes would stop the city from ever remembering Silence again.

I sigh with the leftovers of a burning desire. Will I regret not doing so? I scream. I cry out for the couple-no-more, so loudly it hurts, so loudly it pains my lungs and my integrity and my sense of decency. The streetlights disintegrate, glass windows shatter, the lights in the distance stop flashing for a split-second: I have never felt freer in my entire life.

The burning sensation in my throat reminds me that I have caused complete annihilation around me for one single moment, one defining, tangible instant in which Power pulsed through my veins instead of blood. I wipe away the remaining tears in my eyes, and realise at least an hour has passed. I have to return to my own party, people are probably wondering where I am. I stretch once I am on solid ground again, making my way down the same stairs which had led up to my small adventure. I remember them again for a second; the disillusioned Couple, the dark Street, the scarlet Headband, the dimmest Streetlight.

I plaster a fake smile on my face as I enter my living room once again, reapplying my MAC Cosmetics lipstick before facing a welcome committee of three of my friends, immediately gasping about my runny makeup and cold skin. I cannot help but think of how trivial their concerns suddenly seem, how distant and irrelevant. I feel the need to find my husband, Daniel, to look into his tumultuous eyes yet feel his solid reassurance. I need to feel loved.

I make my way between the noisy crowds, inspecting suit after suit, face after face, saying hello after goodbye. I finally spot Daniel near the window, the Streetlight from before visible on the street behind him, casting a lonely shadow. His handsome countenance reflects nothing but seriousness as he engages in conversation with a man I do not recognize. The twisted reminder of the Streetlight and the couple under it drives my desire to see Daniel even further. I cannot help but feel like the most egotistical person in the world as I make my way towards him. How narcissistic of me is it to strive to find reassurance in my own relationship after witnessing a failed one?

I convince myself not to care as I stand less than a metre away from Daniel, my arms wide open, my love for him almost a need, clear in the desperate rhythm of my high heels against the marble floor. He spots my approach and gives me a smile which makes the man he is engaged in conversation with to stand by, and me to stop dead in my tracks before reaching my final destination; His embrace.

His smile is one of sadness, my expression one of confusion. Everyone around us falls into a sudden silence. The tension around us dawns on me with such force I have to make a large effort not to fall onto my knees. I gasp, bringing my hand to my mouth in shock, tears welling up in my eyes as I struggle to block out all the sounds around me.