Beth Finch Novels & Stories

Finley says, and I halt my favorite gelding instantly. "Are you talking about Benji," I ask in a stern voice, and Finley swallows? "Somewhat...I... You know I'm good at reading people. I joke around, but I can tell when people are upset or having a hard time. And typically, I am good at using jokes and playful behavior to pull people out of their slumps. But umm...," Finley says, sounding nervous, and my eyebrows crease. "Just tell me, Fin. I know all of this. That's why you're so important. You balance Stanley and me. So just tell me what's up and with who, so we can fix it," I say, and he looks towards the lake we like to swim in.

“I am Finley’s mate.” Mya spluttered on her mouthful of orange juice “WHAT?” she exclaimed in disbelief. Beth nodded and looked at the floor “Yes it’s not quite believable is it? There he is tall and handsome and here I am, fat and old” a tear rolled silently down her cheek. Mya certainly wouldn’t call Finley handsome, his features were too austere for her liking but Beth truly did mean what she was saying, she loved him. “What happened Beth?” she asked quietly.

I quickly made my way behind the bushes and found an old fellow in distress. It was Finch, trying to fend off a wild one. “Get off me!” he shouted, wielding a large pen that he was trying to use to stab the wild one. The wild one was probably a child, but still very forceful. “Oh, so it’s you,” I said, folding my arms over my chest as I watched him get tossed down by the wild one. Of course, I wouldn’t let the wild one bite him, but first, I needed to understand why he was hiding behind the bushes.

He didn't want to deal with her anymore, and the cold wind could help him ease his anger. Hazel sighed. She realized that Finney and Antony had completely different attitudes towards life. Finney was someone who always wanted to enjoy, and aunt Wendy had taught her to be materialistic from a young age. She had always hoped that she would be able to live a good life and do whatever she wished. However, it seemed like Antony was a very practical person who knew the importance of money, so it was inevitable for them to quarrel over money.

So, he feeds off the abundant sexual energy from downstairs. “I won’t offer excuses or apologies for him. He’s a dumbass, and I can only assume, as you knew him on sight, you know that about him.” Hana smiled, stepping around me to offer her hand to Finch. “I’m Hana, and I’d like to purchase these.” She gestured to the books in her arms. “I’m Finch.” Finch nodded, shaking her hand.

He prowls toward her. She tilts her head back and grits her teeth. The wolf flashes behind her eyes. Ethan’s hands are in fists at his sides. “Cool. The fuck. Down.”Fiona prods him in the chest with each word.“Now.” He growls, and I cannot help but marvel at Fiona’s courage. She doesn’t even flinch. I fear for her, though. Ethan is not himself. I try to reach out to him with my thoughts, as if my will alone could stop him from harming her.

The Mayfair ballroom’s opulence felt like a sick joke. The crystal, the laughter, the scent of gardenias—it was a stage set for a play whose true script was written in treachery. Anton maintained the performance flawlessly. He smiled, he shook hands, he delivered a brief, inspiring speech about resilience and integrity that now tasted like ash on his tongue. All the while, his mind was a silent, screaming siren. Finch. Alistair Finch. The man who had overseen the loading docks where Anton, as a teenager, had learned the weight of a shipping manifest. The man who had patiently explained just-in-time logistics over a shared whiskey after Anton’s father’s funeral. A pillar. A supposed fortress

"Mr. Finch, we're simply seeking the truth. If you're unwilling to provide that, it raises further questions." Finch rises from his seat, his face flushed with indignation. "I've had enough of this. You both need to leave. Now." Eloise stands up, her face a mix of frustration and disappointment. "Mr. Finch, I'm sorry this has escalated. We just want to understand the situation fully." Arthur Finch waves them off dismissively. "Out. Now." Outside Arthur Finch’s mansion, the crisp morning air does little to cool Eloise’s simmering frustration. She walks briskly towards the waiting carriage, leaving at least ten feet between her and Stanley. Stanley follows closely behind, his expression a mix

"Finchby was in it for the money. You don't need to look for any motive more complicated than that with him." "He simply thought he had a good scam going? An easy way to make money. That seems foolish to me." Quickly and neatly, Klempner reassembles the weapon. He talks as he works giving every indication of speaking to let his thoughts out for air. "Finchby wasn't a fool. A coward yes. A fool no." "And Baxter?" "Oh, Baxter's nobody's coward." He gives a final polish and sets the gun down. "Done." He inhales, sitting upright and casting down to his bag. "That's all of them now and I've not reached any conclusion."

Ben asked me as we turned into the airport and the driver looked for a place to pull over and let us out near the departures area. “I’m okay,” I told him, finding a smile. “How are you?” “Fine,” he said, though he wasn’t. He hadn’t said another word to me about the Finch brothers since we’d made love in the chair the evening before, but I knew he was thinking about it. He wouldn’t just let it go. That’s not how Ben operated. I wasn’t planning on bringing it up to him again though--ever--if I could help it.