Best Of Harlan Coben Novels & Stories

“What about you, Mr. Brady, do you read?” "I haven't read in a while. I like thrillers. Lee Child, James Patterson, Stephen King." He tells us as he reaches and takes a piece of steak. "Have you read Harlan Coben? He writes some amazing thrillers like Drop Shot, One False Move, and Tell No One." I'm in my element now. This is safe ground, I love talking about books. I love almost every genre out there. I'll give anything a go once. Indie authors are my favorite as their work is so unique, it's like a diamond in the rough.

The dim bar in Berlin's outskirts hummed with low chatter and clinking glasses. Coby Harlan, 42 now, nursed a whiskey at the corner table, his broad shoulders hunched under a worn leather jacket. Retirement had not softened him, scars from old wounds pulled tight across his knuckles, and his buzzed hair showed flecks of gray. Ten years since that botched op in Kabul, the one that cost lives and shattered his world. He came here on a whim, chasing ghosts, not expecting to find one staring back.

I turn the door knob open and I take a peak. Just a peak, I tell myself but soon I'm seated on his bed and reading a novel that I got from the shelf of books just at a corner of his room. I can't help it, his room is so arranged, the opposite of what I expected. Everything about the is in black and white, giving it this gothic vibe, I expected it to be beige just like the other rooms. Chasing Red! I've gotten myself so hooked up in the love story of the book that I don't pay attention to my surroundings. I never thought Nathan in all his calm and intimidating self would be interested in novels, romance at that!

The teacher scolds us both, but all I can hear and see is his smile. He fixed me, he’s my serotonin, my very own drug. My feeling for him feels illegal, but he’ll still be my favorite crime. “Mr. Alex Sheperd and Mr. Conan Gray, this is not the time for chit chatting, now answer my question or you’ll meet the principal. “ We faced each other with a smile on our faces. We grabbed our bags and willingly took our punishment. This shocked our professor as he stopped talking until we left the room. We didn’t answer his question, it’s not like we could answer it anyway.