Any Man Book Novels & Stories

Carter asks with a smile on his lips, and I shake my head, fighting the smile that is on my lips. “Nothing. Can I use these?” I ask as I point to the books and he nods his head with a smile as he begins to type away on his laptop. I grab a few books and take them to the desk when the door opens, and a man walks in. He is tall, athletic with blonde hair and brown eyes. He has glasses on and is handsome. Not otherworldly like the shifters or the gods, he is decent looking for a human. I look back down and open the book.

She exclaimed while running behind the old man to keep up with him. "M-Miss!" The two maids exchanged glances as they trembled with the thought that something bad might happen to their Lady. Meanwhile, just a floor above them, the old man opened a safe from the uppermost shelf. Anyone would notice how he carefully placed all the books about mana inside that big safe, but he didn't use any keys to open it, somehow it seemed like he had been taking books in and out of the safe. "Here are the books you want." He said, putting down all the books on the table beside the window.

And he had a long nose that looked like a cursive L – L. “Sal Maan Roos Dee. He is a big writer. One of the biggest of all times. This man, see,” revealed my brother, showing the back cover of the book he had in his hands. The passport size photograph of the man on the back cover was exactly like the man I saw in my visions. I AM NOT KIDDING! I mean it! The front cover read: “An Extraordinary Novel” – The New York Review of Books ________________________________________________ MIDNIGHT’S CHILDREN

"Listen to me young man, if I wanted to have a beer, believe me, it wouldn't be here, let alone in your company. With that, if you don't have something interesting to say to me, I'll be off right away. You see, I'm a very busy man and I don't have time to waste on a joker." When he finished talking, he already wanted to get up to leave. I was right to think it was a stuck up man. What foul mood is he in?! If what I'm about to do is not of capital importance, I would never have used this kind of person. Seeing that he was already getting carried away and the questioning look that Martine gives me, I stop my interlocutor in his tracks and I prevent him from leaving. "I'm no joke. I have a most

“What are you doing?” I held up my prize. “I found a bunch of old comic books in the attic. I read the first one of these and wanted to read the rest.” He reached out to me, gesturing with his fingers to hand them over. I reluctantly gave the comics over. He flipped through them, seeming interested. “Where’s the first one? I’m grounded for a while so . . . ” I smiled. Even though the Popobawa was a great secret, my secret, it would be cool to talk about it with someone. “In my room, I’ll grab it for you.”

"Who are you!" That heavy voice with a very strong aura I felt my body goosebumps and fell unconscious unconscious. Cold, damp, and filled with a dark aura. I very clearly felt it all. I opened my eyes, my eyeballs rolled to look around where I was. My gaze is on a man with an athletic build with crossed legs, he is holding a book covering his face. "Who are you?" I'm a little confused by my own question, which the castle owner should be asking.

Instinctively, I stepped backward, afraid he might try something inappropriate like before. This time, the man spoke first. "Don't be scared, miss. Can't we at least be friends?" "Sorry, I'm married." There was no way I was becoming friends with some creep, so I rejected him immediately. The man didn't seem discouraged at all. Instead, he slowly leaned closer and whispered into my ear, "I know where you live. I know where your husband works, too. You wouldn't want anything happening to him, right?"

I followed the sound, my steps careful, like I was walking through something fragile. Evan stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair still rumpled from sleep. He looked older in the morning light. Less composed. More human. “You didn’t have to make coffee,” I said softly. He turned. “I needed something to do with my hands.” I nodded. I understood that feeling too well. We stood there for a moment, the silence thick but not hostile. “I read the last pages,” I said finally. He stiffened. “I didn’t know if you would,” he replied.

I exclaimed, stepping back instinctively. The man laughed, a warm, easy sound that immediately made me relax. “Hey, it’s okay. You really don’t need to apologize.” I looked up—and froze slightly. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties, with messy blonde hair that fell in soft waves over his forehead. His eyes were a clear, bright blue, and when he smiled, they crinkled at the corners in a way that made him seem friendly, open, and—unintentionally—charming. He wasn’t intimidating or overbearing. He just looked… approachable, kind, effortless. Handsome without trying.

I sat in the chair nearest the door because sitting nearest the door felt like the right instinct, and I waited, and the house waited around me, and nobody spoke. Then the front door opened. The man who walked in was tall, not as tall as Damien but close, with lighter colouring and a face that shared certain features with Damien's the way different editions of the same book share a cover. You could see the connection if you were looking for it. The jaw, the set of the eyes, the particular way he held himself like he had grown up being told he was important and then at some point stopped believing it. He was maybe thirty. He was wearing a jacket that had been expensive once and was not anymor