A Z Reads の小説・ストーリー

The things we want are so very rarely the things we need. Clifton Heights, a modest Adirondack town, offers many unique attractions. Arcane Delights sells both paperbacks and hard-to-find limited editions. The Skylark Diner serves the best home-cooked meals around, with friendly service and a smile. Every August, Mr. Jingo’s County Fair visits, to the delight of children and adults. In essence, Clifton Heights is the quintessential small American town. Everyone knows everyone else, and everyone is treated like family. It is quiet, simple, and peaceful. But shadows linger here. Flitting in dark corners, from the corner of the eye. If you walk down Main Street after dark, the slight scrape of shoes on asphalt whispers you're not alone, but when you look over your shoulder, no one is there. The moon shines high and bright in the night sky, but instead of throwing light, it only seems to make the shadows lengthen. Children disappear. Teens run away. Hunters get lost in the woods with frightening regularity. Husbands go mad, and wives vanish in the dead of night. And still, when the sun rises in the morning, you are greeted by townspeople with warm waves and friendly smiles, and the shivers pass as everything seems fresh and new... Until night falls once more. Handy's Pawn and Thrift sits several blocks down from Arcane Delights. Like any thrift store, its wares range from the mundane to the bizarre. By daylight, it seems just another slice of small town Americana. But in its window hangs a sign which reads: We Have Things You Need. And when a lonely traveling salesman comes looking for something he desperately wants, after normal visiting hours, after night has fallen, he will face a harsh truth among the shelves of Handy’s Pawn and Thrift: the things we want are rarely the things we need. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

In the third year of my eating disorder, my husband, Nikolai Hollowell, is the only person who still insists on making me eat. Even when I vomit until I'm a trembling mess, he will make another dish for me again half an hour later. He coaxes gently yet stubbornly, "Have one more bite of the apple slice, Emi." But the moment I smell the food, I throw up again until I can barely breathe. That night, I make another post on X to ask for help. "How is someone with an eating disorder supposed to keep living?" The top comment says, "Get a boyfriend who's a chef! My darling cooks different dishes for me every single day, all 365 days without repeating once. Even the apple slices he cuts are shaped like cute little bunnies, so I absolutely love eating now." Someone replies enviously, "Wow! Where do you find a man like that?" She answers, "Find one? Good men like that no longer circulate on the market. He is actually married. His wife has had anorexia for three years. She has become only skin and bones. "He says just looking at her kills his appetite, and he does not even want to touch her. Well, I'm nothing like her. I always finish every dish he makes." My breathing catches in my throat. This morning, Nikolai personally made bunny-shaped apple slices for me. My fingertips turn cold as I tap into the woman's profile. Her caption reads, "Wow! If your wife won't eat bunny-shaped apple slices, then I will!" Attached is a photo of a man's long, elegant fingers holding an apple slice up to the woman's mouth. And the one reflected in her starry eyes after zooming in—is a face identical to Nikolai's.

Three men. One heart. Maya’s bl‌ueprint for lo⁠v‌e. May​a Al​v⁠are‍z thought‍ she was on the safest and fulfilled path, a loyal boyfriend, a promis‌ing career, an​d a life free of drama. Till a s‍tormy‌ night and a s⁠tole‍n kiss und‌er the gallery lights shat‍tered everything. Humiliated‌ but unbro⁠ken, Maya threw herself into wor​k mindlessly, only to clash wi⁠th Zane Cro‌ss: a ruthless b‍illionaire client, whose smirk is as dangerous as his secr‍ets. Th⁠ei​r s‍parks igni‌te b‍o⁠ardrooms and headl⁠ines, and soo‍n the city is whisperin⁠g abo‌ut the fire between th‌em. When a scanda‍l threatens t⁠o wr‍e‌ck her care​er and all she’d worked for, M‍ay⁠a makes​ a desperate move.She begins to notice Lucas, the⁠ charming​ Doctor, willing to fake-date her, to cal​m the rumor and get her mat⁠c​h‍making f‌amily’s pressure off her. B​ut fak⁠e dates soon b‍ecom‍e real gl​ances, and r‌eal glances stir old fee⁠lings Maya wasn't prepared for. As corpo​rate sabot‍age, family meddling, and city gossip swirl, Maya begins⁠ to wonder if love is w​orth the risk at all and questions where​ h​e‍r salvatio‌n truly lies, to be fully ready to recieve the love she wants and deserves.

Kyla Adams is a workaholic. I mean, who wouldn't be when you're working your dream job? She is one of the many writers for a startup business in North Carolina called "Clicked," where the focus is writing about hot gossip, new trends, and out of the ordinary experiences. Think of this social media app as an online magazine, where the workers are gossip hungry millennials and Gen Z'ers all trying to top one another. And the best part- Dakota Kramer; the hot young CEO at the top floor of the office building. Kyla is the job. She thrives on gossip and is a phenomenal writer, but lately her articles have been dryer than her dating life. After Dakota threatens to fire her if she doesn't step out of her comfort zone, Kyla and her friends drunkenly email Dakota an exciting new article proposal titled "EleDATE." What does the hell does this mean? Kyla must ride the elevator every morning, starting from floor 1 up to floor 50-the top floor- with a hand picked single guy from the office. The catch? She's blindfolded. She must rely on her instincts about the "bachelors" and the impressions they make during their limited time riding together- and they must remain anonymous. With over 100 employees in the building, 50 floors, and 20 single men willing to participate, this will sure make for an intriguing article and a literal make or break career moment. And let's face it... there's just something about elevators.

During our company's Black Friday sale, an intern took it upon herself to change "Spend $300, save $50" to "Spend $300, save $350." In my previous life, I was the Director of E-commerce Operations. I shut down the servers immediately and stopped the company from bleeding nearly ten million dollars. At the year-end party, the intern stood in front of everyone with tears in her eyes, playing the victim. "Erin, all I wanted to do was drive user acquisition through a loss-leader growth hack!" "Customers would have come back to repurchase after getting the discount. Who gave you the right to cut off the company's revenue by killing the servers?" She posted a viral thread on Instagram: Gen Z Takes on the Workplace: How My Outdated Boss Sabotaged My Brilliant Idea. Strangers doxxed me and came after me in waves. I left the company due to depression. Eventually, her mob of rabid followers drove me off the edge of a roof. Now I've been given a second chance. When the intern points to the promo page that's about to go live and asks me: "Erin, does my Black Friday campaign look good to you?" "It doesn't just look good. This is the textbook definition of a viral growth hack!" I turn around, grab the documents, and announce over the company-wide PA system. "Cassie has personally guaranteed this campaign with her own and her boyfriend's credit history, signing a full liability agreement to cover any losses. Let's give her a hand, everyone!"

When the new intern, Felix Madden, hears that I'm going back to my hometown for the Thanksgiving weekend and won't be home in my fully paid-off luxury lakeview apartment, he goes out of his way to cozy up to me. "Come on, Carl. Your place is going to be empty anyway. Why not let my parents stay there for a few days during the holiday? It'll save them the cost of paying for a hotel," Felix says. Worried that my belongings might be tampered with, I politely turn him down. His expression darkens slightly, and he mutters under his breath, "Fine. If you won't lend it to me, I'll find my own way." I don't think much of it at the time. Then, on the first day of the holiday, the property management company sends me a message. They inform me that a group of strangers has entered my building using my access code and appear to be heading to my unit. My heart sinks to my stomach. Something is very wrong. I've only ever shared my access code with my closest family members. There is no way an outsider could know it. The next thing I see is Felix's social media post. The photo shows him and his entire family relaxing in my apartment. The caption reads, "Spending Thanksgiving in a luxury lakeview apartment. Life is good. If you work hard enough, you can enjoy this kind of lifestyle too." Not once does he mention that the apartment belongs to me. Instead, he deliberately makes it look like he owns the property himself. Quietly, I save every piece of evidence. I save the security camera footage and make screenshots of his social media posts. I don't throw them out, nor do I expose them—I simply wait. By the final day of the holiday, they've thoroughly enjoyed themselves and start packing up without a care in the world. As they prepare to leave, they are dumbfounded.

To help my husband, Henry Carter, pay off a million-dollar debt, I clean windows and scrub toilets in an office building on Valentine's Day just for the triple pay. After I'm done with the windows, I am about to transfer the last 50 thousand dollars of the debt when a post suddenly pops up on my phone. The title of the post is, "What is something you see in real life that makes you feel sorry for someone, even if they are your enemy?" One of the top comments says, "The person I hate the most is my boyfriend's wife. My boyfriend pretends to be poor to spend money on me and cheats his wife out of over a million. That woman works day and night at a cleaning company just to make money for me! "This has gone on for eight years. That woman has been scrubbing toilets for eight years! Even if she is my enemy, I feel sorry for her." I freeze, and my fingers tremble uncontrollably. No way. It has to be a coincidence. I stare at those words, stunned and unable to recover from the shock. Then, a new comment appears, "Now, my boyfriend plans to fake an illness by telling his wife that he has cancer. He's going to trick her into giving him money to buy me a car." At that exact moment, Henry sends me a message. The instant I open it, I feel my heart skip a beat. It reads, "I'm sorry, honey. I'm sick—I have cancer. The doctor says we need to prepare 80 thousand dollars for treatment. I hate myself for this. Why am I even alive? I'm just dragging you down with me." The words "late-stage liver cancer" in the attached diagnosis report are painful to look at. I think in dismay, "Henry, you do not need to pretend to be sick. You are indeed in the late stage of cancer."

"Emily! You must not come out of this room or turn your back to me!" Emily's brow furrowed, not understanding what Jason wanted from her. "What do you mean?" the girl asked, starting to get annoyed. "You stay where you are, facing me!" ordered Jason. "You must not look away at all and must witness what Tamara and I are doing from start to finish!" *** Emily Karlton was forced to go through a marriage without being based on love with Jason McKennel, who was her adoptive brother. The feeling that should have been for Jared—Jason's brother, was misdirected. Especially when the head of the family and owner of the Kennel'z Industry, Charles McKennel, decided to a death sentence for both. Jason, who has been in a relationship with a married woman, finally obeys his father's wishes for power in the company but still lives his love story secretly. While Emily tries to be a good wife, Jared can't accept Emily's decision and continues to pursue it and struggles to take back what should belong to her. Emily tried to suppress any feelings because she felt she had to keep the good name of the McKennel family who had raised her. She tries to cultivate a love for Jason and take the man's heart. Will Emily manage to get Jason's heart, or will the relationship between the two have to end because there is no love growing between the two? . . Dear, all readers ... It's my very first english book on Goodnovel. Since I'm an Indonesian language-speaking author, i'll try my best to translate my work and deliver a nice story to you all. Hope you'll enjoy reading and will love the story❤️ Happy reading, all❤️

I've been in love for six years, but my wedding has been called off 99 times by the man who claims to love me most, the mafia boss, Daniel Reed. The first time is on a private island off the coast of Sorellia. He promises me a secret wedding. But an hour before the ceremony, he gets a call saying that his new assistant, Emily Jennings, has been taken by a rival family. Without a word, he leaves me behind and sails off into the night. The second time, we're standing at the altar, exchanging vows. His underboss then leans in and whispers, "Emily's in trouble." Daniel tears off his boutonniere and walks out without looking back. Emily has been kidnapped again—this time, near the border district. He leads an armed raid that very night while I'm left behind, becoming the laughingstock in the mafia's VIP lounges. No matter when I schedule the wedding, Emily always ends up in danger. And Daniel always runs to her without hesitation. Eventually, I realize I will never win against the reckless Gen Z assistant who constantly drags him into chaos. After the 99th cancellation, I decide to break up with him and disappear from Valemont. I move out overnight, erase every trace of myself, leaving nothing behind. But I never expect him to go completely mad. He shuts down the ports, searches every villa, and unleashes his entire family's intelligence network just to find me. His eyes burn red like a wild animal on the edge of collapse. "Elara," he growls, "just give me one more chance."

During the holidays, my husband, Andrew Hartwell, flakes out on the vacation trip we've planned in advance once again. He has to go on a business trip in another state at the very last minute. But the next moment I know, I stumble upon a social media post uploaded by his assistant, Chloe Miller, that features a photo of them lying on the beach side by side while sunbathing. The caption reads, "Mr. Hartwell watched the moon with me last month, and he's now watching the sea with me on this vacation. Everyone, please help me brainstorm which location he'll have to take me during the next holiday! P.S. That location has to be super pretty for photo-taking sessions. After all, Mr. Hartwell looks super handsome in the photos!" Everyone begins throwing out ideas and suggestions in the comment section. I pause for two seconds before leaving behind a comment calmly. "Why not the city hall? Not only is it a nice place, but you two can also receive a marriage certificate of your own." The colleagues, who know about my marriage with Andrew, are stunned, to say the least. Soon, they quickly text each other and start harboring guesses on the way I'm about to get jealous and start a fight with Andrew. Meanwhile, Andrew is quick to call me on the phone impatiently. "Why are you this petty? What's wrong with me sunbathing with Chloe? Can't I take a break on my business trip? "So what if I skip out on spending time with you? Must you kick up such a ruckus? I want you to delete your comment right now! Otherwise, others might view Chloe differently! "Besides, we're already married! There are so many holidays in the future. I'll just spend time with you on the next one!" As I listen to Andrew's stale excuse, I can't help but scoff. There's no more next time. Once the holiday is over, we'll have already received our divorce decree.