Elle Brooks Author Mga Nobela at Kwento

“They promise they'll bring as much peanut butter and mainland goodies as they can fit in their suitcases.” “Mmm, peanut butter,” Brooke said as she walked past me with her arms full of chum buckets. She somehow made carrying bloody fish look sexy. Some days I hated Brooke. She was possibly the most beautiful person I had ever met. Tall, with legs that stretched into infinity, she also had perfectly sculpted abs and a megawatt smile. The thing was, she knew she was gorgeous, but she only used the advantage at the bars. She was also one of the nicest people I knew, and my best friend and roommate on the island.

“At least I have a job and a house, Brook,” I reply evenly. “Remind me again what you have?” Her smile snaps off her lips and her face turns a nice shade of ugly… And there she is. The real Brook. That’s more like it. This is the Brook I know. The one who’d smile at you while she twisted the knife in your back. The viper that hides among sheep, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Sure, Chloe was a manipulative, jealous bitch, but compared to Brook? Chloe was an amateur. Brook is the real villain; always has been.

“This heat we're both feeling will continue until the full moon clears. And it will only worsen if we don’t act on it.” The room fell quiet for a second, and Brooks shifted again, her thighs pressing together briefly before she immediately adjusted herself like I hadn’t noticed her doing it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly. “I’m not feeling anything.” That lie was almost insulting. I stared at her for a long second before stepping closer. “You’re drenched in arousal.” Her entire face changed instantly. Mortification flooded her expression so fast it almost made me smile despite the situation.

Unmuting the call, I said, “Hello, sorry for the wait.” “Oh, no biggie. Alice, right?” Her informality took me a little by surprise. I matched her informal tone. “That’s me and you are the future luna of Blue Crescent, correct?” Brook wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, that’s what they call me, but can you please just use my name - Brook. I know you all think of it as some kind of honor, but honestly, it just makes me feel like a trophy girlfriend or something.” And it was wordy, I thought with a grin. Before I could tell her no problem, someone on her end said loudly, “You all? Did you forget you’re one of us again, Brookie? Really, you’re going to hurt my feelings!”

She picks up one of the heavy paperbacks and flips the pages. She starts to read out loud: ‘She was approaching me, hands caked in dirt, I had to do something. The police were on their way, hurriedly. I grabbed a shovel and smacked it against her head; the sound of her skull crunching made a ghost smile appear on my face.’ “That is insane.” I say, I can’t even imagine reading something as horrific as that. “His pen name is Logan Kane, but look at this...” She brings the book closer to me so I can stare at the author photo at the back. I almost fall out of the seat, fuck. He’s Devon Brookes.

Aurora Brooks Evening arrived with orange threads announcing the sunset of our day. I lowered my bag to the driver who had arrived in front of our house by order of Commander Alexander Roth. A large vehicle was waiting for our five bodies: me, Amelia, Ivy, my mother, and my bastard father, Daniel Brooks, who kept whining over my mother's head because he would no longer be able to get drunk again. I hate his filthy topics that reveal his ignorance and brutality.

“Sir…” Perry hesitated, “Recently, through my interactions with Miss Brooks, I've noticed something unusual about her. I'm afraid these past years haven't been as good for her as you think.” Cameron paused his writing. “What do you mean?” “Miss Brooks has scars, more than one. She talks in her sleep and sometimes cries. And after a conflict, her first reaction is always to apologize, even if it's not her fault.” Perry was both meticulous and suspicious. “And she seems overly careful.”

She looked genuinely excited. Completely unaware that the two boys sitting in front of her hated each other’s existence. “Ryan, this is Miles.” Her hand landed on my shoulder. “My son.” I wanted the floor to open and swallow me My mother then turned toward me. “Miles, this is Ryan.” She smiled. “Your new stepbrother.” I felt like I was about to faint. My ears started ringing. The room suddenly felt too warm. My new step brother? Ryan? What sort of joke is this,

Brooks' POV There were many mornings in my life I wishedI could stuff myself deep into my comforter and become embedded into the mattress. Not even for sleep but to simply evade what was coming that day. Today proved to be one of those days from this hangover that was evident from my own karmic actions. But it wasn’t the thunderous pull of my head turning against me that made me want to shuffle myself into oblivion, but for the thirteen drafts of an embarrassing email I thankfully had enough sense to keep from actually sending. Although I couldn’t piece together the details of a single one without the words becoming a haze of desperation and broken pride, I knew it was enough to know I could

That answer somehow made Valeria feel even smaller. Mrs. Brooks wasn't talking about curiosity. She was talking about character. The same character someone had apparently been documenting long before they met. "Mrs. Brooks..." The older woman looked up. "Were those reports true?" "What reports?" "The observations." Mrs. Brooks nodded once. "As far as I know." "So someone really..." She struggled to finish the sentence. "...followed my life?" "I don't know how they gathered every detail." "But yes." Valeria closed her eyes. The confirmation hurt more than the discovery itself.