Christopher Moore Novels & Stories

He reached for the decanter with practiced ease and poured himself a glass, settling into the leather chair behind his massive desk. The liquor burned down his throat. He welcomed it. He needed the fire. The world knew Grayson Moore as a billionaire, a power player, a man untouched by weakness. But beneath all that, he was still the boy who had crouched in blood, held in his mother’s shaking arms. Still the child who had lost everything in one night. A long exhale escaped him, cigarette smoke curling toward the ceiling in slow spirals. It should have been Damien Lopez in that grave. It should have been his empire crumbling, his legacy buried in shame.

Moother got up after me and grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Do you think I am a fool? Sit down.” Her nails dug more into my skin to the point of drawing blood. She made sure to add more force before letting me go and sitting down. I fought a hiss as I moved my arm. I sat back down and gritted my teeth as I bit my tongue. “Look at you. I see the reason Nikolas won’t touch you. You’re getting fat. Your cheeks are too full, your breasts are growing bigger, and your already fat ass is getting fatter. You stomach is no longer flat. What is wrong with you?”

My heart did a strange little flip in my chest, and I knew without a doubt that it was Christopher. He was there, close enough that I could feel his presence, but he had stayed back, giving me the space I needed, but I couldn’t help myself and turned to the housekeeper. “I haven’t seen Mr. Moore.” She smiled, just as the shadow in the hallway stepped forward. Christopher emerged from the dimness, hands tucked casually in the pockets of his gray pants. His gaze was steady, his eyes soft as he looked at me, and the warmth in them was enough to undo me all over again.

The silver wasn’t just physical; it was laced into the spell itself, tainting her core. Then the door creaked open, and heavy footsteps echoed across the floor. Serena raised her head slowly, her eyes narrowing at the tall figure entering the chamber. Maeron. The very name sent a shiver down her spine. He was impossibly handsome, in a way that was otherworldly and terrifying. Long dark hair fell over his shoulders, his features sharp and regal—too perfect to be mortal. His eyes, a swirling mix of black and sea-green, held an unnatural gleam, as if the ocean itself whispered secrets within them. His long robe shimmered with a magic she didn’t recognize, embroidered with sigils and runes from

I acted like I had plenty, but deep down, my shattered soul barely held on with duct tape. “No Playboy tonight? That’s going to be a relief,” said Luke behind my back. He stretched his arm to grab the glasses I had cleaned and placed them back on the rack. I turned around and followed him until he returned to grab some more. “What?” I replied a little defensively. “Dominic Moore,” Luke added, so I’d know who he was referring to. “What does that even mean?” I scoffed.

“ Boss, I finished fixing those cameras. Would you like me to hook them up?” Creed asked holding them in his hands “Yes.” “ you okay sir?” Creed asks “ Yes, I'm fine.” “ Are you sure? You look heartbroken” he mocked drawing tears with his finger down his cheek “ how can I be heartbroken when me and her aren’t even together?” I hissed “ say that to your face” he chuckled walking away “ fucking prick” I mumble to myself

She seemed to be afraid that I would run off. Everyone's gazes landed on me, making me feel like I was being roasted over a fire. Christopher stared at me for a long while before snorting, his gaze turning contemptuous. It wasn't a look I'd ever seen on him before. "You saw the news, I presume?" I nodded. He continued, "Since you know who I really am, you should also know that I hate materialistic gold diggers. You shouldn't have been so dumb, Daphne Moore.

Cristofer took a deep breath and said with his head lowered, “I’m really very tired, Gretchen. I’m trying to find the murderer who killed Mrs. Moorsum. Mrs. Moorsum watched me grow up, and I take her as my family. If I can’t find the murderer, I’ll feel guilty for her.” Gretchen’s voice suddenly softened when she heard that. “Wasn’t Mrs. Moorsum killed by Estelle?” “Gretchen, tell me, did you see Estelle push Mrs. Moorsum off the top of the villa?” Cristofer suddenly asked her. “Yes, I saw it with my own eyes. When Estelle pushed Mrs. Moorsum, I wanted to stop her, but Estelle shook off my hands. I could only watch Mrs. Moorsum killed by her. I was so scared at that time! Cristofer, I was tr

I pray it to be Leo, but when I see Paul bend down next to Christopher, my heart almost stops beating. "Christopher is dead. What are we supposed to now?" He repeats, and I stare at him in horror. "No...this can't be possible. Christopher can't die. He fucking can't die." I take a step back and whisper to myself. I could still picture his smiling face as he left my suite room. It was just moments ago when he assured me that everything was going to be fine. No. This is not true. I know this is just a fucking bad dream. Christopher can't die. He can't fucking leave us in the middle. All my hard work and suffering can't go in vain like this. He was meant to be the mafia boss. He was meant to ta