Top Sexy Girl Group - Chapter 165 - The Final Attack (Part 1)

Born into the Thornhill family, Eliana should have been dealing with succession planning and heiress training. But instead, she’s dealing with the crocodile tears of her cousin Alexa.As if stealing her Fiancé wasn’t enough, she’s out to pin everything onto Eliana.Trust issues - Eliana.Popularity issues - Eliana.Landslide - Must be Eliana.In an attempt to end her cousin’s jealousy-ridden machinations, Eliana is forced into a relationship with a childhood disaster, Lucian Alder Sinclair, her most tempting nightmare.Lucian Sinclair has always been synonymous with perfection, at least to most people. But to his family, finding someone who could handle his aloofness has been the top priority.Forced to return to his home country at the behest of his grandfather, Lucian fortunately encounters Eliana who’s in need of a ready-made partner.Constantly up at each other's throats, then into each other’s arms, may the lies they’ve told hold up against discerning family members and unrelenting pursuers.

Caution: This novel contains R18 content.

Ercella lived a glorious life everyone envied, but died of an illness at a young age.

Before her death, she regretted not having become a proper mother to her son.

But somehow, she went back three years ago.

Ercella is living her second life.

I promise to be a loving mother this time.

However, is it too late?

“Now that you’re doing this, you’re just making me feel uncomfortable.”

The son only pushes her away and she realises that her relationship with the husband, who she thought was fine before her regression, wasn’t actually…

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.