Best Suspense Books Novels & Stories

I stare at him watching his clear blue eyes change from peaceful to stormy. "If you don't let me walk you home I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you home myself." His voice is hard and daring, making me afraid that he might do as promised, but my feet are glued to the ground. I don't move. "So you really want to do this." He lean closer to me. So close that I can feel his warm breath against my ear. "I swear if you scream or fight me I'll drug you for so long you will become a zombie." And with that I am in the air dangling from his shoulder. My ass in the air, again for the second time tonight and my feet to his back. My hands planted on his hard chest trying to position myself so I

Yeah, he'd learned to practice patience, but dealing with the police while they questioned Betty had just about driven him to the edge of reason. He opened the car door for her, holding her elbow as she climbed in. Daylight had waned, and the parking garage was dimly lit, the sound of other hospital visitors echoing through the cement structures. Betty listened for other things. Furtive footballs on the pavement. The click of a gun safety being released. The slide of fabric or the soft huff is a breath. Someone had tried to kill Dan just a few weeks ago, and there was no reason to believe that person would be content to let him live. The road went quiet as he stepped around the car. The soun

Then there were his psychology books and books on wilderness craft. His gaze fell on a small cluster of volumes of English literature, some that Faith had convinced him to try. While he couldn't bring himself to read them, he hadn't been able to part with them, either. The top shelf held an extensive collection of contemporary bestsellers, and it was one of those he chose, a mystery thriller, as he heard the first roll of thunder. "Yep, Bear, it seems like a 'dark and stormy night' kind of night." He gave the dog a pat as he settled down in his chair.

Maybe that is the reason why I have no problem in communicating even if I don’t talk to people much. ‘This Time I Will Not Love You' This novel sounds so hurting. I think I won’t be interested in this since I have no love life or whatsoever. ‘To The World I Wish…’ ‘Reckoning Love…’ ‘Mystery Caller' ‘Untold Secrets…’ ‘Unfolding Secrets…’ JUST WHY THE HELL DOES IT SOUNDS SO SPOOKY?!?!? “Alright let’s look for other books to read...” I tried to calm myself just to not let me feel the spookiness in the titles of the books I saw. A very interesting book caught my attention. Unlike the others, it was… handwritten.

He must have taken advantage of me while I was unconscious. I stood up, my movements stiff with fury and fear. My eyes roamed the room, noting the opulence—the golden wristwatches, diamond rings, and gleaming furniture. He’s filthy rich, but that doesn’t give him the right to do this to me. I couldn’t stay here another second. I needed to return to my pack, to check on my parents. But I had no money, and my situation was desperate. Without a second thought, I began gathering valuables from the room, his golden wristwatches, diamond rings, and even his wallet. My gaze landed on a silver necklace around his neck. It shimmered faintly, almost otherworldly, and I carefully removed it.

Suzanne popped another juicy piece of fruit into her mouth and mumbled, "Aren't you busy?" Ignoring her question, Nathan asked, "What book are you reading?" Suzanne picked up the book and showed it to him. "I randomly picked up a suspense novel. It's quite interesting." Nathan took the book, glanced at the title and synopsis, then casually placed it back on the table, his interest seemingly waning. After eating a few more pieces of fruit, Suzanne put down her fork and reached for her book. Suddenly, Nathan grasped her hand. Startled, Suzanne turned to look at him, her heart racing and cheeks flushing.

It was completely dry, its thick leather cover pristine, its pages white and unblemished by blood or ink. ​But as Elara reached out a trembling hand to pick up the book, the headlights of the white sedan suddenly flickered and died, plunging the highway into a deep, absolute darkness. ​The quiet of the forest was broken not by the sound of crickets or rain, but by a slow, heavy, and terrifyingly familiar sound that echoed from the dashboard inside the dark car.

They keep law books on the second floor mezzanine, which is potentially the darkest and creepiest area of this place. Once I get to the top of the stairs, I glance down at the piece of paper with the title of the book on. Legendary assassins and their downfall. The shelves are all sorted in alphabetical order, so I find L fast and then search through the plethora of books, looking for the one I need. The same creeping sensation that I’m being watched sweeps over me as I glance down onto the ground floor level toward the door, wondering if I wouldn’t have heard someone enter. “What are you looking for?”

It was a perfect fit. Tara scoped the room for a place to put it. Maggie insisted she keep the book safe. The second-floor den had an enormous bookcase built into the wall. If she placed it on the top shelf it could easily blend in with the array of books of all shapes and sizes that were stuffed, shoved and crammed in rows from floor to ceiling. She felt a little light headed when she stood up. She couldn’t decide if it was from the power emanating from the book she held close to her chest or simply because she stood up too fast. Whatever the reason, she took the time to stand still and wait for her equilibrium to come back before heading off to the den. ****

, Rachel grunts. I want to say "Why", but I don't want to risk sounding like a creep so I whatever her and go back to going through the rest of the shelf even though I'd done that a thousand times before. I drag my hands across the spines of the books; Kara Taylor's Prep School Confidential, Carol Wyer's The Secret Admirer, and Megan Goldin's The Night Swim. You would be subtle to call Rachel a crime-thriller addict - she's more of a crime freak. The Night Swim. There is a piece of paper sticking out of it. I pull it out of the book. Something is scribbled across it in Rachel's handwriting.