Novel & Cerita Chaos Book Tom O'neill

Travis; his Religious Studies lecturer, that had sent the letter to him but one thing was certain; He was going to face the devil in two weeks. I JUST WANT TO MAKE IT CLEAR HERE THAT THE ‘MACROCOSMIC ORDER’ IS A WORK OF FICTION; JUST LIKE OTHER PARTS OF THIS BOOK. IF OUT OF CURIOSITY YOU GO TO GOOGLE TO SEARCH FOR IT, YOU'LL DEFINITELY FIND SOMETHING DIFFERENT. With Love, Stephen. ❤️

“It is like asking you what it is like being… pretty.” Chloe blushed and instinctively ran two fingers over her cheek. “I'm just curious,” she continued. “Okay, what are the differences you feel there are?” Harold stopped close to a wardrobe and fished out the timetable that he had neatly folded into his bag. “The differences I feel there are,” Harold repeated, not looking up from the map he was studying. “Okay. First of all, I'm not free to behave as I want to. Right from when I was a pup, I've always been trained to rule, he hard, dominate and… lack emotions.”

He reacted at once and released me. I barely had time to draw a breath when the crowd suddenly shifted. People all around me began jumping in time with the music. Someone ahead of me stumbled and collided with me, forcing me backward. I tensed without thinking. Then, a strange sensation surged up inside me, hot and unrelenting. My eyes widened. Oh no. It had already gone in.

And most importantly, I hate feeling like I don’t have control over my environment. And this house? As chaotic as it is, I understand it. I know how it moves. I know how everyone behaves. I can predict things here. Unlike my life right now. Still… “That doesn’t mean I enjoy the chaos,” I said, crossing my arms. He chuckled softly like that was expected. “It’s a family, Alexandra. Chaos is part of the package.” I didn’t respond to that because honestly, I wasn’t in the mood for emotional wisdom. “Why are you here?” I asked instead, cutting straight to the point.

And maybe—just maybe—cue the sequel: HELL NAWW! ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ❤️Hope you guys enjoyedChaos in Heels—I definitely enjoyed writing it. Until next time, my friends. 💅

"A chaotic, expensive, legally married brand." "I don't want to be a brand." "You don't get to choose anymore." "I absolutely do." "No." She'd pointed at my phone. "The internet has chosen for you." That was the problem. The internet kept choosing things for me. A husband. A reputation. A personality. A motive. Apparently, I had gone from being Grace Ellinton, relatively unknown woman with questionable decision-making skills, to Grace Bramhall, mysterious billionaire wife who may or may not have married Manhattan's richest bachelor as part of an elaborate revenge scheme.