Author Similar To Nicholas Sparks Novels & Stories

“Because... he is my mate. Nicholas was my mate.” “Wh-what?” Jake breathed. “I am Nicholas Gavner Acworth’s mate.”

"Ni—Nicholas?" "Fuck…"

After spending several hours, I finally finished reviewing all the information Ethan had sent me. The background, experiences, behavior, and family details of the twins, Nicholas and Nelson, were laid out in front of me in meticulous detail. Ethan's analysis made perfect sense—there was nothing in their story that remotely resembled Neil's, not even their demeanor. Nicholas came across as overly composed and ruthless, while Nelson, though younger, was alarmingly volatile and combative. This starkly contrasted with Neil’s innocence and kindness. As I pondered these differences, a slight sense of relief washed over me, but deep down, my lingering doubts remained unresolved.

I responded. “Great, Nikolai will give you the necessary details and your next instruction,” “Great, Nikolai will give you the necessary detail and your next instruction,” I mimicked in his same tone, but in my head. Nikolai grabbed my hand immediately and growled at me. “You've gotten quite bold,” he said I was scared out of breath. "Sparka ignis!" (meaning "Spark of fire!") A small, harmless spark of electricity shot out from Rune's fingertips, dealing minor damage to Nikolai.

I asked a stream of questions into the still air. The room fell completely silent. Just when I assumed I would not get an answer, my laptop screen flickered on by itself. A single search bar glowed in the center of the screen. The letters appeared on the search bar one by one, typed by an unseen hand. N-A-T-H-A-N-I-E-L S-I-M-M-O-N-S. Nathaniel Simmons. The results loaded instantly. The top link was a news article from five years ago. The headline read, [Tragedy Claims Rising Finance Star Nathaniel Simmons in Fatal Crash.]

On the other hand, he is so pampered, feared and loved in this town that if he accidentally bumped into someone, they would probably be the ones apologizing to him and not the other way around. Okay, yes, the spoiled thing I got from all the internet research I've been doing this weekend on the guy. I was bored, okay? He keeps staring at me and I stare back at the jerk, straight into his electric blue eyes filled with anger, hatred and what looks like a hint of pain. He also has freckles on his nose that I hadn't seen at the funeral because I was so far away. But up close, wow, they suit him and somehow make him look more attractive. He has full pink lips that I wouldn't mind tasting sometim

Of course! Nicholas Atkins is hot meat for most girls. This girl looked pretty and sexy—in a respectable kind of way. Unlike Saucy, who had a big neon sign on her forehead that spelled a four-letter word, starting with an ‘s’ and ending with a ‘t.’ “She’s hot,” I whispered under my breath. Nicholas glanced over at the girl again, who was still looking at him. “I guess,” he said. “Not your type?” He stared at me for a long moment. I didn’t know what he was thinking but somehow, when he studied my face, he looked thoughtful. Then he sighed and looked away from me. “I must be out of my mind.”

His voice cut like a blade. “What the hell are you doing here?” Nikolai turned calmly. “Relax, Alpha Lockwood. This isn’t a challenge. I am here because I needed help and the one person that I could think about speaking to first is your woman. Considering that it includes women coming to your pack.” Damon looked at me, studying my expression and 900 letting him know to go on. I was not under threat, at least I believed that I was not. Sparks pulsed through the air as Damon stepped forward. “Then get the hell away from her.”

She had fire in her, but it was quiet, the kind that didn’t flare, but burned steadily until everything around it bent to its warmth. And that smile she gave when she tried to hide her suspicion, I’d seen that expression before, in wolves who refused to break no matter how cornered they were. I could still feel the ghost of her hand in mine. Lorenzo D’Amaris. I almost laughed thinking about the name I’d chosen. Annalise would’ve called it arrogance, using our mother’s maiden name as a shield, but it was poetic, the respectable mask for a man she’d long since written off as a monster.

“Excuse me.” Embarrassed at having been caught daydreaming, I forced myself to focus on work. And I succeeded – until I heard Nicholas’ voice come from the speakers. “The kind of woman I’d prefer?” Nicholas said. “Someone loyal. Strong. Even tempered. And she has to like to children.” “Check, check, and check,” came a voice from the table of girls. “He’s describing me! It’s meant to be.” “Dream on. He’s clearly describing me.”