Ben Starling Paper Towns Novels & Stories

Andrew said, motioning towards the painting above Alice's bed. Sophie cast a keen gaze at the famous oil painting of Vincent Van Gogh, 'Starry Night'. She observed the small twinkling stars painted in the dark sky and found that, amidst multiple stars on the canvas, one of the stars has a hidden camera. "Is that a spy cam?" Sophie stuttered, her eyes widening in shock. She felt the rug swept out from under her feet. "Bingo, and you know who the audience is?" An evil smirk tugged at the corners of Andrew's mouth as he raised an eyebrow, then he glanced at Alice, who mirrored his sinister grin.

Elena Vale has spent her entire life sticking to the rules, until the night she's forced into an engagement she never wanted. Fleeing from her high-society cage, she ends up in a grimy bar, drinking with a brooding stranger who offers the one thing she never expected: freedom.  Jack Roman is the last man a woman like Elena Vale should marry. Tattooed, sharp-tongued, and hiding secrets behind his sea blue eyes. He's everything she's been taught to avoid. But when an impulsive drunken wedding turns into a full-blown scandal, Elena seizes the chaos. She makes him a deal — six months of pretending, then they part ways. To Elena, faking a marriage with a stranger is supposed to keep her

There were many waiters but no other diners. “It’s not very popular in here on a Sunday morning,” she ventured. “I reserved the whole place,” Gabriel said, sounding bored as he opened the menu. “Why?” “I wanted you to be comfortable.” He closed the menu. “What would you like?” With a sigh, she opened her menu. It was written in English and French. This place was entirely too coldly elegant, she thought. Looking out the window with longing, Calleigh saw locals and tourists crowding a colorful street market.

“Does my father know about this?’ “He does but this is the easiest way for you to get permanent residence in this country. Don't worry. It'll be a contract and nothing more. It's called a paper marriage. You won't have to live together for long.” A Paper Marriage is a marriage of convenience made with no intention of forming an actual marital relationship. The term is commonly used to refer to marriages made to gain permanent residence in a particular country. “I can't do something like that,” I protested. “And if I’m going to ever get married, it’s going to be to my boyfriend Henry not some American man. I cannot trade him for anyone.” “Do you want to go back home to die?” “No, aunt.” “Well

Stephen said, his gaze landing on Stellar with clear admiration. “The true author is standing right here. From start to finish, that paper was written entirely by Stellar Rivers.” The crowd collectively froze. All eyes turned to Stellar, who stood calm and composed, as if this storm of praise and disbelief had nothing to do with her. Was she even human? She had already led groundbreaking projects—and now this paper, which had shaken the academic world, was hers too? How much more was she hiding? “So it was you…” Dean looked as though everything had just clicked into place.

"Rude. I walked away and out of the building. I had to get Dad's drugs no matter what. *** I walked through the bright, busy streets, my hair dancing with the wind as I searched every drug store without any luck. I was late. I got off from one taxi, boarded another, and then another, searching for a drug store until I got dropped off at a humongous building with the description 'Decula Pharmaceutical'. I hurried in, my hope rekindled as I glanced at my wristwatch. It was almost midnight. "Hey, ma'am... You there in a hoodie," a voice shot after me, and I stopped in my tracks, turning to see who it was. "What are you... Why are you here?

"I'm sorry for being such a burden these last four years." Unexpectedly, he pulled out a ring. "Will you marry me, Willow Sweeney?" The answer was undoubtedly yes. I didn't question his reasons. I simply believed my perseverance had finally paid off. Shortly after we got married, graduate school began. Christopher threw himself into running his company, and I left for Jaskleton. Eager to see him sooner, I pulled several all-nighters, finishing the assignments from my advisor, Professor Tate, well in advance. But when I finally arrived at his place, my dream shattered before my eyes.

Above the countertop, there is an open shelving section built into the wall unit, holding a few brightly coloured folders adding colour to the otherwise natural space. Harper approached to printers control panel, to select her print job on the small screen and confirming the print job. The machine started printing, pulling paper from one of its trays and feeding it through with a series of soft mechanical sounds. After several minutes, a large stack of paper would appear in the output tray on top. She collected the document, straightening the pages and taking them to the counter. She sorted through the documents, organising them in three separate packs and then she tapped the stack lightly a

When he heard the door open, he turned slightly and pulled a folded paper star from his pocket. Once, after we had an argument, we went three days without speaking. The next morning, a paper star appeared in my desk drawer. When I unfolded it, the word sorry was written inside. After that, the stars became his standard apology. Whenever he upset me, he folded one. Sometimes it said "Sorry." Sometimes "Got it." Once, it even said nothing but "Okay." I kept every star in a clear glass jar in the most noticeable spot on my desk. During the second half of freshman year, I joked with him.