Claire Weekes Book Novels & Stories

she grumbled, quickly gathering the books and went off after them. ******* WESLEY HIGH SCHOOL Tina finally let go off Claire's hair after Phidelia accepted to do as she was not. Claire slightly shook her head, gesturing Phidelia not to do it but then, she had already made up her mind and nothing was going to stop her. She glanced at the staring gazes fixed on her and slowly went on her knees, a bit hesitant.

Before someone dangerous gets out. Claire was even more ecstatic about the book now, dreams of cash born of tragedy filling her mind. She wanted the publisher to put a sticker on the front of the book when it was completed, screaming something sensational about how the pages contained the most authoritative look at the escaped mastermind beauty. It was all the better, Claire insisted, if Janice Rosse was never caught, keeping the mystery alive and making her a legend up there with the likes of Bonnie Parker. Byron didn't want to be quite that purple, especially concerning his friend, but he figured he would lose this particular war.

The email arrived on a Thursday. It was short and direct in the way Clare’s communication always was. She was writing a book. Five years on from What They Bought. Not a sequel — a different project, wider in scope, looking at the landscape that had changed and the landscape that had not. She wanted to speak with Grace. Not as a subject. As a primary voice. There was a distinction, she wrote, and she wanted Grace to know she understood it. Grace read the email. She thought about it for two days before she replied.

“He was the love of my life, but it was unfortunate that I died on the night of a full moon.” “You were attacked by a werewolf.” “Exactly and I was laid to rest in peace by the man I cherished.” Claire loved how she was analytical. “Aurelius?” She guessed. “Of course. He was everything I had and I feel sorry because I left him in that cruel world.” “My friend in the world of the living has a striking resemblance with you and Aurelius thinks that she's you. Do you have any connections to the Wesley family?” “Lynette Wesley. I'm Claire Wesley. Her ancestor.” Claire informed as she stepped backward.

He even invited her to join them for lunch! Anger had made her leave the compartment earlier. She needed a good plan, and fast. She could not let a nobody like her take Axel away from her. Finding out about her basic information was easy. Claire McLennie was born and bred right there in Creek Falls. Her profile was not so interesting in Lisa's point of view. She had never travelled out, and all the schools she attended were public schools. Her file was inaccessible. Lisa thought that was odd and called her investigator. "What do you mean, you can't access it?"

Because if Claire was reaching out—about Jolene—then it meant something was already broken. I met her at the club she worked at, though calling that place a “club” was generous. The air was heavy with smoke and the kind of perfume that made your eyes water. Neon lights pulsed along the ceiling, casting pink and red shadows on curves that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Claire stood near the bar, her body wrapped in a black halter top and shorts so tight they should’ve come with a warning. She was in full performer mode—head tilted just enough to tease, lips parted like she was tasting electricity—but the moment I walked up and grabbed her arm, something behind her eyes shifted.

I conceded, “Fair enough. But I think you should go first since you have an unfair information advantage.” She smiled, accepting the challenge. “Claire Renwick, thirty-six, investigative journalist specializing in criminal justice issues and financial crimes. I have two dogs—Winston, the chocolate Lab you must have seen on I*******m, and a recent rescue named Pepper who’s still deciding if she likes me. For fun, I hike, read obscure history books, and binge-watch cooking competitions while eating takeout.”

Pov: Narration Claire finished wiping the last glass, her hands still trembling. The air in the café felt charged. She hadn’t understood half of what the crying woman and Mr. Wilson were shouting about. Something about an engagement, a business deal, a car crash. But the woman’s final words clung to the silence like frost: “She’s working at Wakefield.” Claire frowned, placing the glass on the shelf. Working where? A cold prickle danced down her spine. She didn’t work at Wakefield. She worked here. And at the diner on 5th. The only ‘Claire Hart’ in this city was her.

Kai walked off toward Ms Leta who was still busy reading her book, probably to speak to her about something. Clarissa didn’t follow him as she was drawn to the shelves already. She walked through the rows as her fingers brushed along the books gently. Most of the books had thick covers. “Pattern Drafting Vol 1,”Clarissa read the book titles in a low tone as her eyes wandered to find the one she wanted. “History of Fabric Dyeing, Creative Sketching 101.” She moved down the aisles, her eyes still scanning the books. Some were old while others looked rather new.

he asked, placing two small kisses on her lips. "I said, stop it!" He looked into her eyes. For a moment, he thought he saw a shadow of confusion and fear in her deep gaze before she regained her usual proud air. "Why do you want to work here?" She asked him. "Because I need to make some money, and I think this place is great." And it was true. Yen Chien loved "Book's Infusion." And he admired Claire for having succeeded in just two years in creating from nothing and by herself that small literary salon, complete with tea corner and sweets from all over the world.