Books With Unreliable Narrators Novels & Stories

A collection of dark, raw narratives that people would have to read. “You’re insane,” Jenni says, shaking her head, though I can see the faintest hint of interest in her eyes. “You think you can find real criminals and get them to tell you their life story?” “It’s unique,” I insist. “And no one’s ever done it. People would be hooked. I tell them I'm doing research for my dark romance, which I am. Then I use everything in another book as well.”

There could be a slip up, I might just mistakenly say something I'd rather not say. One more reason why it was a kind of safe space with Kunle and Sophia. We talk about everything and yet, nothing. "Well, All books, all genres except sad fictions. I don't understand why books would have sad endings. Books like All the bright colors, The fault in our stars, We were liars and co. I hate reading those kind of books. I prefer books like Eleanor and Park, Holding up the Universe, A very large expanse of sea. Generally, light novels that'd just make me smile. A sun is also a star, books with breathtaking ending that'd make you feel things."

The safehouse dining room had been stripped of its warmth. No bottles, no food, no laughter. Only a long table, chairs pulled tight, the air heavy with smoke and unease. Dante sat at the head, a dark figure in a black suit, his hands resting calmly on the table’s edge. Marco stood at his right, stone-faced, while the lieutenants filed in. Each man carried the stink of fear and ambition. Whispers followed them—the casino inferno. The stiletto kills. Rumors that Dante had lost his grip, that his queen whispered fire in his ear and made him reckless.

Food, coffee, and a shoulder to lean on; exactly what I need right now. ⸻ Damian I knew that nurse wasn’t right. I even followed up with the staff. Every single one of them vouched for her, but something felt off about her, from the beginning. I should’ve trusted my gut. I should’ve protected Sareena. Instead, I got pulled into Familia business. Again. Thank God for Gabriella. She’s the only one who saw through the lie. I owe her. Sareena needs to know how much Gabriella loves her.

“Books don’t talk back. They don’t expect small talk. I like the order. And the stories. What about you? History major with a focus on obscure trade? That’s not common.” I shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “I like knowing how people lived before everything got loud. Plus, it’s an excuse to hide in here. Away from parties and drama.” “Smart girl,” he murmured. The way he said it made my stomach flip. Time passed. Maybe twenty minutes. We talked about everything and nothing. My terrible roommate. His awful coffee from the faculty lounge. How the basement always felt colder than the rest of the building. Our voices got softer, more comfortable. The dark made it easier somehow. Like we we

I always thought the line between right and wrong was clear. Turns out, it’s not a line at all. It’s a fog. A thick, shifting fog where good intentions can still get people killed. And right now, I was walking straight into it. I sat in the passenger seat of Raffaele’s black SUV as he drove us through the industrial district—abandoned warehouses, graffiti-covered train cars, broken glass glittering on sidewalks like spilled secrets. “This informant of yours,” I said, breaking the silence. “Is he reliable?”

I touch its glass cover and to my surprise, it vanishes in just a snap. The book floats mid-air and emits blinding light. It starts glowing and the pages start to turn. A few moments afterward, the pages stop turning. The glow starts to vanish, and the book moves toward my hand. Just like the book I was reading earlier, it has a leather hardbound cover and its title are embroidered with gold. 'The Untold' I said as I've read the title. I turn the cover and start reading once again. ----- THIRD PERSON’S POINT OF VIEW

Mom supported me, not because she understood, but because she loved me and wanted me to be happy. I stood up and walked around the library, feeling a little restless. They had all of the classics, and some of them looked as though they were expensive copies. Other authors that I regularly read, such as James Patterson and Dean Koontz were on the shelves. They even had some of my female favorites, such as Lisa Jackson, Lisa Gardner and Heather Graham Pozzessere. Then I wondered down to another section where I found some more provocative books. They had a lot. “You are not stupid people and you know why I initially came to the island. Do you think that I am some kind of loose woman?”

He says, but he stops as the old lady, Pearl apparently, slams her cane on the floor making a loud cracking sound ring through the small room. "You will not leave, young man. If anything, you need us." She says causing us to look at each other in confusion as Everett sinks back into the couch. "How do you figure?" He asks. "I'm getting the sense neither of you are particularly smooth with the ladies. Am I wrong?" She asks. We look at each other, but neither of us say anything because well... She's not wrong. "Mmhmm... Now who do you think writes these books?" She asks and we both shrug. "Women." She says succinctly, but we both just stare at her in confusion. She huffs at us, rolling her eye

Dear Readers, Since English is not my first language, there will be tons of grammatical mistakes. Please continue reading this book only if you don't have any issues with that. Rest I can guarantee you that you won't get bored with the storyline. The following are my books; if interested, do give a look over them: Can't help falling in love (Book 1)-Completed Purchased by the Mafia (Book 2)-Completed Her Mysterious Lover (Book 3)-Completed