Chan Thomas Books Novels & Stories

"Your deadbolt won't stop four hundred pounds of jaw pressure, and the rangers are currently asleep in their beds, completely oblivious to the fact that the woods are full of things that want to eat you. Grab your coat." "I am not going anywhere with a giant, arrogant lumberjack who turns into a giant dog!" Noah yelled, his fear finally giving way to white-hot indignation. "This is my home! My grandfather built this apothecary, and I have rare root cuttings upstairs that will die if they aren't watered by morning!" Francis let out a long, heavy breath through his nose. "I don't care about your plants." "Well, I do!"

“I didn’t say that I wanted to cause any bodily injury to Thomas. I just let him know that I exist.” “Go and do it.” Darco closed his notebook and left. Weiss continued smoking his cigarette. He gazed at the blue sky outside the window, and said to himself, “All stores of Elite Jewelry are fully operational now and the whole business structure has been established. Thomas, just wait for my full revenge.” In a stand-alone old mansion of 33 Metro Garden Neighbourhood, Thomas sat on the sofa and held a book entitled ‘A Hundred Years of Solitude’ in his hands. He was reading and flipping through the book casually.

Thomas quickly seals the entrance with a pile of rocks and branches before lighting a torch with a flick of his wrist. I lean against the cold stone wall, trying to steady my breathing, but the world tilts slowly. I glance down at my shoulder—my shirt is soaked through with blood, dark and wet. No. No. My knees buckle, and I drop to the ground just as Thomas’s voice fades into a distant echo. Everything goes black. *** My eyes flutter open to the warm glow of a small fire. A wild fowl roasts over the flames, its skin crackling. Thomas sits nearby, crushing herbs with a smooth stone.

Eventually, she reached the heavy oak door of Thomas’s study, she paused in front of it, inhaling deeply as her hand hesitated on the doorknob. She gave herself a single second to compose her expression—neutral, calm, just short of apologetic—before twisting it and pushing the door open. The scent of old books, leather, and ink filled her nose as she stepped in. At the far end of the room, in front of a bag window, Thomas sat behind his desk, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, forearms taut and fingers flipping through a stack of documents. A gold pen lay beside him, neatly aligned with the edge of the paper. His posture was rigid, but his expression was unreadable.

"How long have you been working for Uncle Mateo?" Thomas shifted his weight, not quite meeting my eyes. "About three weeks. I was passing through and needed work." Something about his answer felt rehearsed. I'd met plenty of rogues in my time with Uncle Mateo, and they all had their stories. Some were open books, others kept their pasts locked tight. Thomas seemed to be the latter. "Where were you before?" I pressed, watching his reaction carefully. He shrugged. "Around. East coast mostly." I nodded like this satisfied me, but my senses were on high alert. Uncle Mateo had taught me to trust my instincts, and they were sending mixed signals right now. Thomas wasn't giving off any immediate th

Nobody in the underworld was innocent. Some of us were worse than the others. Nonetheless, that chip could put all of us behind bars and get us executed. It would expose our world, but not only the Thorns of Omertà’s world, but also all of the others. Kingpins. Billionaire Kings. Cosa Nostra. Cartels. Yakuza.

“Please... my... Lord...! Don’t... do... this...!” Somehow Thomas knew it was his end. “You have failed me!” Said the other Thomas. “I’ll take care of everything personally…!” Then his body began to burn, wrapped in flames, and causing a terrifying scream of pain. Outside, Mark and Mulligan heard the scream and ran to open the door to enter. It was locked and they began to beat it hard with their bodies to open it. On the third attempt they succeeded and entered. Thomas was standing next to the table, watching them with a smile on his lips, and with what looked like a pile of ashes on the table and floor. They ordered him to sit down again; when they saw he didn’t have the handcuffs, they dr

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. Till There Was You (The Thorntons Book 6) Published by Blue Violet Press LLC Seattle, Washington Copyright © 2017 by Iris Morland Cover design by Resplendent Media All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief

He turned toward the sound of Peanut laughing. Elena smiled. "She sleeps now because you're here." Thomas didn't know what to say. He simply sat quietly. Trying to understand. Then tiny footsteps hurried into the room. Peanut. Of course. She carried a large book almost bigger than herself. Very proudly. Very dramatically. She dropped it onto Thomas's lap. With a loud thump. He blinked. "What is this?" "My favorite." Thomas looked at the worn cover. It had clearly been read many times. The edges were soft.

MARY’S POV "The spiritual man judges all things, yet he himself is judged of no man." (1 Corinthians 2:15) The air in the room was thick with the scent of cheap air freshener and disinfectant; the heat of five bodies packed into a space meant for two hung in the air. I sat at the head of the circle, my Bible open to the Book of Proverbs. My phone vibrated continuously inside my denim skirt pocket.