Clueless Novel Novels & Stories

Present Day Emily lived by one rule: look good, work harder. A rule she had set for herself four years ago. Dressed in black pants and a tucked-in pink shirt, accompanied by a pink leather handbag—she stood in the lobby of City Pulse Press. Looking at her, one would think she feared nothing—but deep down, she panicked at the thought of what awaited her behind the doors of Carol's office. Carol was the only person in the building who could see through Emily's composure.

His suspicions got cleared after few seconds as Clarissa closed the book with a thud and put it back in it’s place, rolling her eyes in disgust. Asshole! She is a fool to believe that he’s into romance novels, which explains his cold personality. Now she understood the meaning of the phrase ‘Don’t judge the book by it’s cover’. The book she took out is a murder mystery from fourteenth century and now she came to realize how Nicholas mastered in torture methods. He must’ve trained himself by reading such thriller novels. Nicholas chuckled at her actions and found her disdain cute. She can be amusing at times, he thought and stood behind her.

Or at least— Pretends to. Keyboards move. Phones ring. Voices stay low. But underneath it— Everything has shifted. Eyes linger. Not openly. Not boldly. But enough. Judgment. Assumptions. Doubt. --- Clara Clara watches me closely. Not hiding it now. “Anything you want to explain?” she asks. I look up. Meet her eyes. Calm. Steady. “No.” Her brows lift slightly. “That’s all?” “That’s all.”

Sit, legs spread atop his desk and peel his glasses away as she kissed him senseless. Instead, Clara schooled her features so she'd appear less interested as she headed towards the towering shelves laden with books. The silence was heavy and she could feel Lucas' eyes lasering at her frame. She knew he wanted to speak to her but was trying to respect her boundaries at the same time. At this point, she was so nervous she could barely see the titles on the thick covers she was shuffling through. Deciding she had to get out before she collapsed from lack of oxygen, she pulled out Maria Garden's 'Into The Wild' which, as a matter of fact, she'd read over and over a thousand times and beelined fo

she murmured in annoyance and scratched one more paper, adding to a number of crumpled ones beside her and under her table. She grabbed at her own hair and ruffled it in frustration, the girl felt like tearing it out but didn't have the heart to do so. Her eyes darted towards the white ceiling, drowning in her own thoughts once more, a favorite pastime of her. “I merely want to mitigate the problems I’d encounter” Claire heaved a long sigh, if her memory is correct, she would face not only a numerous rivals but also a number of problems. The chapter one of the novel already indicates that she will have a hard time with her roommate, but she successfully avoided that by lying to Andromeda tha

Klark, ‘Tribid Greed’ by Steve Reynolds, and a lot of other books. One by one Trisha returned all the books she'd picked. When she was beginning to get tired and unmotivated, the corner of her eyes perceived a strange book on a shelf not too far from where she was. Its spines were tattered and appeared like spiky wires beneath the poor lighting.

I would kill him, slowly and painfully—yes! "Well, what have we here in the early hours?" Clara's voice echoed, drawing my attention away from the shelf. "Just losing myself in a book, Clara—trying to make productive use of my time," I replied, flopping back onto the bed in my usual manner, legs raised as I sprawled across the mattress. "Finishing a book might provide a sense of accomplishment, don't you think?" "I see," Clara mused, joining me on the edge of the bed, her eyes skimming the cover of my chosen novel. "A thriller—not your typical choice."

--- ### The Unfinished Letter### The next morning, Claire awoke with a strange sense of anticipation. The attic, the locket, the letters—they all felt like pieces of a puzzle that she was finally beginning to understand. But there was still so much left unresolved, both in her grandmother’s story and in her own life. As she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, she felt the weight of all that had happened pressing down on her. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, the way the past seemed to be seeping into the present, demanding to be acknowledged, to be reckoned with.

POV: Zia The silence in Dr. Clue’s office was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic thud-thud of Clayton’s boots as he paced the small square of linoleum. It had been over thirty minutes. Thirty minutes since the doctor had looked at us like he’d seen ghosts, muttered, "I can't believe this," and vanished.

“Cornered, little sister. Just like a frightened animal. What will you do now?” Marcus’s voice followed, calm and commanding. “The game is over, Clara. Hand over the book.” Clara turned in a slow, unsteady circle. The well loomed before her, its dark mouth yawning like an endless pit. Moss covered its rim, slippery with dew. She had no way of knowing how deep it went, no way of knowing if anything lay within but emptiness.