Clueless Novels Novels & Stories

she asked carefully. He met her gaze. “Perhaps.” The river moved beside them, glinting under hesitant sunlight. Clara felt something stirring again — not hope. Not certainty. But curiosity. Dangerous, undeniable curiosity. And as they stepped into the café once more, she realized something quietly unsettling: The riddles weren’t random. They were leading somewhere. She just didn’t yet know where. But the town was listening. And so was she.

I had those thoughts about us. ‘Now that the chase is over, there’s nothing else for us to look forward to.’ ‘What gave you that idea?’ he frowned. ‘Did I do anything that gave you any indication that this is going to end? Or that this ends here?’ Clara shrugged and sighed, then shook her head no. ‘I know I’m stupid and insecure. I’ve never had anyone like you, confident, handsome, congenial, and well-liked by everyone. There’s nothing wrong with you, nothing to fix, and I do not know what to do with myself. It makes me scared to think that you settled for less when you asked me to be yours.’

A smile that had the Smith women swooning and had Claire rolling her eyes with disinterest. "I read when I get time" Only thing I read was fire manuals and a daily magazine on how to grill your meat right. Nothing more. "Really? Well I guess we have our man. How about you start us off Mr Cutler?" Claire challenged. I looked at the book's cover. Shameless they called it. More like trying to write porn on pages if anyone asked me. I had frisked the pages. Roughly and every page had a sex scene about the female lead getting stretched and filled with—

Ismail says having noticed my dull mood when I walked into the house. “It’s just the fact that I can’t find the right shoes to wear for the award show,” I tell him, feeling very comfortable sharing such little problems with Ismail. “Umit, I saw you buy more than 20 pairs of high heels when we travelled. So, I don’t think you should have a problem finding the right pair of shoes in your closet.” “I did not say I don’t have high heels but rather, I don’t feel like any I have are the right one for the dress I am wearing.”

There was a murmur of agreement. “Do you really think I could possibly have a lower opinion of you?” I physically felt Dudley tense up as killing intent bore into the back of my neck. “I don’t mean just Flossie. All of you. And me too — I include myself. We are completely out of our element here. Clueless doesn’t even begin to describe it. But the rules here are so screwed up, stupid could actually be the way to go. Asking a question, no matter how dumb, isn’t going to make things worse.” “You say that,” said Claire, “but you always seem to be handling it. And usually you’re doing something sneaky. And manipulative. And underhanded.”

Just past the first turn, she realised there was no house, no village in front of her, only a long stretch of whiteness bordered by snow-powdered hedges without a telltale rise in smoke in the distance. She didn't dare look up again for a long while. Time lost all meaning as she walked onward, her cheeks stinging, then without feeling, as hints of eventide crept in behind the melancholy December sky. It was then that Betty murmured an almost forgotten prayer from her childhood……...a little something to her guardian Angel begging an entree to paradise. ………………………….. She awoke stretching contentedly. Staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, it took her a few moments to determine where she was, but

The leads faded one after another, like mist in the morning. But then, something changed. A seemingly insignificant detail, almost forgotten by everyone, resurfaced. Claire had mentioned a strange encounter with a woman a few days before the murder. A woman who seemed to be watching her, who had asked her questions about her past. I remembered that detail and rushed to the case file, determined to find out who this mysterious stranger was. A flicker of hope ignited in me. This might be the missing piece of the puzzle I had been searching for. But with every breakthrough, I felt like I was slipping further into an increasingly tight trap.

The specific and particular history of people who had been present at large events and had not been the people the large events were usually said to be about. She read novels. The novels were harder to characterize. They were not genre novels and not literary novels in the specific and self-conscious way of novels that were aware of being literary. They were simply good novels, or what appeared, from the evidence of the way she held them, the specific and attentive quality of a woman who was genuinely inside a book rather than processing it, to be good novels. She had read one I recognized. She had read several I did not.

He was the most amazing husband and a father who made me the happiest woman in the world. -The End- A/N: Thank for reading My Boss is Clueless! Please be sure to check out the book two of this series, TRAPPED BY THE BADBOY BILLIONAIRE. Here's the blurb: Anya loves weddings. Everything about it is just so...magical. When her brother Ansel decided to get engaged to the love of his life, she knew his wedding day would be perfect. And when the day came, no one was more overjoyed than Anya.

" Joan chipped in defiantly and everyone giggled. "I didn't ask for your opinion." "Alright no grudge, which area don't you get straight maybe I might be of help?" I said humorously. Weren't you listening to me? I can't even distinguish between the laws and the formulae. It so strange to me." Clara said. "You know what? If I were you Clara I will stop eating to much junks and instead of eating too much getting clumpy everyday, I'll be feeding my brain with studies." Cynthia chip in.