Dan Simmons Novels Novels & Stories

Simmons, leaving only Zac in the room with the scattered books on the ground. He closed his eyes, slowly thinking, ‘Liv, what you saw wasn’t real. ‘It isn’t…’

"He's fishing. He's got blood in the water. The sex scandal, with a dash of professional arrogance. It's a good mix." "The numbers are sound," Davidson insisted, a knot of outrage forming in his chest. "I know they are," Brian answered. "But war is perception, and Simmons just tossed a grenade. He's old school. He doesn't like change. He doesn't like you. And he's not alone."

Emmet says down the phone; although he already knows the answer and wants to confirm again; she is Leona. “Not much” Simone begins; smiling to herself. “I have a few more weeks before I need to go back to work, so decided to read a book.” “Really? What book?” Emmett asks; trying not to give away he knows. “Pride and Prejudice” Simone excitedly answers; unaware Emmett knows the whole conversation she just had with Drake Spencer. “One of the classics from Jane Austin. Although; I prefer a good action novel. You can’t go wrong with a classic” Emmett teases; making sure she heard the good action novel part.

He could not have been involved with her. But I don't know why but my heart was sayings that Simmi was not a gold digger of all things. She was not very keen to buy dresses like any other girl would have done. Who was the real Simmi?? She was not lured by my flirting, good looks and my wealth. Could she be so good in this game?? ******

Simon really wants to return to his cozy bed. Thinking like this, Simon hurriedly went to the bathroom to take a bath, not catching Prothero's devilish smirk. It took Simon an hour to walk out of the bathroom. Dressed in his pajamas, he gingerly made his way out of the bathroom with the expectation that a certain brat would be asleep by now. Unexpectedly… Prothero's eyes directly met Simon's as soon as Simon stepped out of the bathroom. "Big brother. I selected an action novel. Read it for me." Prothero shamelessly said, almost making Simon curse, but somehow Simon ended up stopping himself!

When the meeting was over, Page was left in her office with Mr Simon. Simon was a man who had keen eyes for women. He liked his women, curvy and sexy. Changing them as he changed socks, he banged a different woman every two days, making it extremely hard to please him, his hunger for more almost insatiable. He was a casanova, a wickedly talented womanizer. Once, she had almost fallen for him but withdrew when she uncovered those not-so-pleasing-to-hear things about him.

"Ms. Emerson, we don't want to take you as our enemy. Let's make a deal. Hand Erica over. Then things will end right here. How about that?" Holding her breath, Hannah glanced up at him. Her clear eyes stared right into his own. "You're really forgetful," she said regretfully, looking at him as if she had given up on him. Then, she asked, "Did no one teach you not to stay too close to danger?" Simon immediately had a bad feeling. Yet, it was too late. With a whoosh, she flung the "Soil Analysis" book at him without a trace of hesitation. The book landed right on his head with a loud thud.

With these actions, he was digging himself into an ever-deeper hole. The moment that girl raised her hand again, clearly aiming to charm my mate with her coy smile, I was seconds away from hauling her outside by her hair. “Mr. Simmons? Do you happen to need an intern? I would just love to be your personal intern.” Brock donned a steely, unwavering expression as he responded, “My stunning wife at the back—she’s, my intern. With her unparalleled efficiency, I could never need another. She’s the only one for me.”

Punitive. Appropriate. “That supposed to make me grateful?” “No.” Simmons’s mouth does something too restrained to count as a smile. “Thoughtful.” Maya files that Simmons has noticed she notices. Then she files that he wants her to notice that. Excellent. Wonderful. A conversation made entirely of drawers. “What should I be thinking about?” she asks. “That if he thought you were a risk to us, this conversation wouldn’t be happening.” “Because he’d stop it?” “Because I would.”

“At least now I know what all the noise was about,” Dad laughed, flipping through the book. “Good afternoon, Mr. Simmons,” Jenny and Brad instantly straightened up. “I assume this is yours,” he said, handing the book to Jenny. “Yes, thank you,” she said modestly, smiling. “Now I can finish reading how the messy-haired farm boy loses the princess.” She laughed, winked at me, and sat down on the couch. “Probably best I don’t ask,” Dad chuckled and walked into the living room.