Famous Neighbor Novels & Stories

"I just heard a lot of celebrities live around here. If we bump into one, don’t forget to grab an autograph for me." The neighborhood was massive—single-family homes hidden behind tall trees, long driveways stretching out of sight. It was the kind of place where you could live for years and not know a thing about your neighbors. After they got everything inside, Allie turned to Chloe. "I’ll buy you dinner tonight. Let’s go to The Fireside Grill." Chloe quickly waved her off. "No way, I’ve got this. If it weren’t for you today, I might’ve ended up with a scar or something."

“Is your grandfather’s name Raymond, by any chance? I think Mr. Raymond’s last name was Chapman.” “Is there anyone in Lubbock who doesn’t know my grandfather?” “We’re neighbors.” “Whoa!” she exclaimed, stunned. Her reaction amused me. “Seriously? Maybe it’s just a name coincidence. No way it’s all true!” “Raymond Chapman, the one with Alzheimer’s, lives in the duplex next to mine. If that’s your grandfather, then yes—we’re neighbors.” “Y-yes… My grandfather is sick… So, I guess we are neighbors…”

Most people might feel embarrassed by having their neighbor turn up in the night to ask them to quiet down, but he didn't let it stop him one bit. My only remaining option was to call my mom and vent. "The house is fine Mommy, but my neighbor's a satyriasis." There was confused silence from the other end of the line. "Your neighbor's a what, sweetie?" "He's like a rabbit. I can hear him going at it from dusk till dawn. My nerves are shredded. If you don't believe me, come listen for yourself." I made sure to sound despondent. In truth, I'd been wanting to redecorate for a while and this seemed like the perfect excuse.

He looks so handsome, his face angular from my sight, his well defined cheekbones and his muscles prominently and flexing whenever he would lift something heavily. Oh god! I think I am crushing on my new neighbour and not to forget, he is one of the popular guys and player at St-Xavier. I think I need your help, god. I don't even know why I told my dad that Max would never do something bad to me. But, I am sure that he would never do something like that to me. I am definitely sure about that. The way he protected me from that stranger at the mall was heartwarming. That Aiden guy was really scary and the way he was looking at me sent a chill down my spine even now when I pictured his face.

Samuel kisses the side of his head, then smiles at him, "I am so proud of you, buddy." "Who is he?" Max stares at Samuel, who is busy talking with Justin. "He is our neighbor," I answer him trying to sound nonchalant. "Neighbor, huh?" Max arches an eyebrow at me, but I don't respond to him, keeping my face free of every expression. "Look, momsis, Samuel came to my game." Justin looks at me with a smile, but I can't bring myself to return his smile. Whenever I see them, there is a twinge of pain inside my chest. It is my fault that he got so much involved in our lives, and now I can't bring myself to cut him from Justin's life.

Aunt Vivian took a long sip of her water, then glanced over at me with that too-casual look that always meant she was about to say something she knew I wouldn’t like. “Oh, and speaking of scenic men,” she started, setting her glass down with a deliberate clink, “there’s a new neighbor next door. Just moved in yesterday. Tall, dark hair, the kind of smile that makes women drop their groceries.” Naomi’s head popped up instantly. “Wait—what? A new neighbor? You didn’t tell me!” Aunt Vivian smirked. “Because you were too busy drowning in perfume and hair dye, sweetheart. But yes, he’s… let’s just say easy on the eyes. Delilah, you might want to go say hi.”

The woman sickeningly pouted, and look at her husband who looked like he was done with her as he took another sip of his champagne. It was not after the gala dinner that I was getting bored, my mind was seconds away from counting sheep and drool on the table, while Ghazi was busy talking about some Iranian dictator to a younger man beside him. The subject was too foreign and uninteresting for my ears and I was about to go to the ladies when I spotted my neighbor's brothers. Yup bestie be damned, I'm going to refer to her as my neighbor from now on. Her hot twin brothers were looking exquisite in their black fitted suit, probably Hugo boss looking at how the materials defined their shoulders

After everything that happened, I became famous throughout the apartment complex. I was no longer the isolated, difficult old woman everyone avoided. Instead, I became known as the woman who defeated the nightmare neighbor. Some residents with meek personalities even started visiting me to ask for advice on dealing with troublesome neighbors themselves. For that reason, I created an account dedicated to sharing strategies for handling nightmare neighbors. While helping countless people online, my retirement years unexpectedly became fuller and more meaningful than ever before.

And then, as if suddenly recalling himself, he spoke, his deep voice rumbling through the air. "Hello, my name is Gage. I'm your new neighbor." Nicole's gaze snapped back to his face, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she realized she'd been staring. "Oh, yes, hello," she stuttered, trying to compose herself. Gage's eyes sparkled with amusement as he nodded at her. "Our landlord said you might have something for me?"

So his face hasn’t just stolen my freaking libido, No, what surprisingly really interests me is the fact that he dosen’t seemed interested in impressing me, and he wasn’t even arrogant. Most people knew exactly who I was not just because I was a famous rich divorce attorney but because my profession has made me difficult to ignore. People either want something from me, or they want to impress me, or wanted to avoid me altogether. But my mysterious neighbor had done none of those things. He’d looked at me sitting on the floor in a robe, assessed the situation, and immediately focused on the problem. Not on me! No mindless conversation or flirting, no small talks. He just focused on the real p