A Chip Off The Old Block Book Novels & Stories

-Well," the other man takes a deep breath and turns to us- uh. - He looks into the bag for a second and then continues: -Eight Legs Do it Better was for me. me. - He stumbles over the title of the book as his tanned face takes on a worrying shade of red. turns a disturbing shade of red. -He continues. - Miles nudges him. -Explain it all to him. -I sent it to Miles' house because I was ashamed of my literary taste. literary taste. - I struggle to make out his hurried words. -I I love reading those books. It's my obsession. Hi everyone, this is the last extra Chapter. In a bit I'm going to put the real chapter. I'm so sorry having my computer broken it has been difficult. Thank you for underst

she mumbled like she always did before any incident happened. ****** Thanks for reading. And yeah, please give a chance to my other books as well. Beta Nicholas is a werewolf romance. Please read it too, and the decision of completing it is completely on you. Thanks. And please, vote for the story :)

Abel yells. Gabe sets me on my feet. “Did you say wife?” Abel wears jeans and nothing else. It must have been some shower. His hair is still wet. Red lipstick smears his face. Yup. This is my life. Some things never change. I would be a dumb bitch if I ever fell for Abel’s bullshit again. I stomp my foot. Yes, exactly how a five-year-old throwing a tantrum would stomp. “Nope! You do not get to call me that!”

“Was that a hello? Or a get-out-before-we-eat-you kind of vibe?” Silence. Of course. I moved toward the old fireplace. The hearth was full of ash and spiderwebs, but the stones above it were strange—like one of them didn’t quite belong. I reached up, and sure enough, it moved. Behind it? A thin, leather-bound book. My breath caught. I pulled it out carefully, brushing off decades of dust. The cover was cracked but elegant, with a single word scratched across it in jagged, purposeful strokes.

Xiao Chen didn't understand what the point of giving him the book was. Especially since it was clearly an old book, with its worn-out appearance and slightly deteriorated condition. Grandfather Qin simply looked at Xiao Chen with a happy expression, even though he didn't know whether it was good or bad to pass on the ancient technique to Xiao Chen. At least he believed with his own eyes that Xiao Chen was the most suitable person to use that technique. Perhaps Xiao Chen could even master all the movements in the book quickly, unlike his brother, who had spent hundreds of years perfecting his form.

Rearranging the books, I found a small brown book wedged behind them, but it didn’t have a title or seem to belong to the library. While putting the library books up, I took the unmarked book and opened the cover to see if something was inside to help me figure out where the book went. The cover had nothing, so I flipped the page and saw it was a journal. The handwriting looked familiar as if I had seen it before. Flipping the pages, I skimmed the contents and saw that it discussed microchips. It was also about changed wolves. I took the book to the loft to find out if it was related to the same thing I wanted to create.

I asked, touching a particular thick book. “That one’s about bloodline history,” he said when I held it up. “It was written by a half-mad seer,” he added. His answers were brief, but still it felt like a conversation. I wanted to continue, so I grabbed a book tucked behind the others. The book was so old it looked like it had survived a fire. Its edges were burnt, and blackened. The title had long faded away, and the cover was cracked with age. “What about this one?” I asked, pointing to it without touching. “Why are you keeping it?”

" How stunningly naive I was. What a perfect, tragic fool. I had built a nest of warmth and opportunity, and the viper I sheltered used it to learn where to strike. She weaponized my own compassion, biding her time until she could steal everything. My legacy. My family. My love. My life. And I— Even my bones are condemned as a traitor's, fit only for the flames of a pauper's pyre.

And nothing will ever change that. END OF BOOK TWO: DON'T LEAVE

he retorted, his tone laced with sarcasm. Sherly chuckled, unfazed by her brother's barbed remark. "Oh, lighten up, big brother," she chided, nudging him playfully in the arm. "You should be grateful for my company. After all, I'm the only one who can make this dreary office feel halfway bearable."