Fantastic Fiction Mystery Novels & Stories

Copyright ©️2021 by Mylovelyreaders All rights reserved. ⚠️DARK ROMANCE⚠️ If you’re looking for some action thriller romantic drama then I would love to welcome you all to my first ever book on this platform ”Psycho Mafia”. Guys this is my first book. This story is entirely my imagination and the characters are fictious. Any resemblance from the resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locals is entirely coincidental.

My bare pussy already throbbed with anticipation as I took my seat front and center. Professor Kane began his lecture on forbidden desires in literature. His eyes found mine almost immediately. I smiled innocently at first, then slowly uncrossed my legs, letting my knees fall apart just enough. The desk hid most of it from the class, but not from him. I trailed my fingers up my inner thigh, stroking the sensitive skin above my stockings. His gaze darkened. When he asked a question about reckless passion, I answered in a soft, breathy voice, leaning forward so my breasts nearly spilled out. “Sometimes the good girl needs to break every rule, Professor. Don’t you think the thrill of getting ca

I couldn’t remember the last time a man checked her out. She continued to sip her drink as Alisa returned to the seat next to me. Let’s go.” I took Lisa by the hand and walked toward what they called the Cloud Room. It was a massive space with nearly twenty king beds When I pushed open the French doors leading to the space, Lisa let out a gasp. “They're really getting it in here!”

Even the smallest piece of fabric seemed to cling uncomfortably to my skin. Unable to resist the pull of what I was witnessing, I continued watching for a long time, my strength gradually draining away until I could no longer support myself. I slid to the floor, overcome. The heat of my breath filled the room, thickening the air with a charged energy I couldn't ignore. To be honest, I never expected my new tenant, Antonio Gomez, to be this captivating. The young woman he was with couldn't seem to keep up with him, but for someone like me—more experienced and mature—it only made me wish I could be in her place.

As I listened to the news anchor's report, I could not help but think there was some truth to the saying that after the storm is when the flowers bloomed. When did I start getting suspicious of Vonn and his crew? Oh, right. It was after I handed over $15,000 to some dude claiming to be Vonn's ex. The more I mulled it over, the more things did not add up. I headed to the police station to share my suspicions. I thought they would laugh me off, but boy, was I in for a surprise. It turned out there had been a string of killings in town, and all the victims were rich, bachelor types living alone.

"It's profound and luminous, exuding an oceanic stillness, like a secluded, boundless part of the deep sea that radiates a strange sense of mystery and death." "Wait… Our chandelier?" Sam asked in astonishment. Fiona nodded eagerly. "Isn't it incredible? And there's more. The book describes several other places where we can spot details matching things in our home. It's… almost surreal!" Sam rubbed his forehead in amusement. "It's probably just a coincidence. The book mentions two chandeliers, but we only have one." Fiona acknowledged that but still found it fascinating. "By the way, Sam, do you happen to know the author?"

At the very least, she was relieved to escape the confined space of the kitchen. As Marcus worked at the sink, Vivienne wandered back into the front room where her curiosity got the better of her. She drifted over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, her fingers tracing the spines of the array of worn paperbacks and hardcovers in a variety of colours and sizes. Expecting to find typical bodyguard or espionage novels, she was taken aback to discover a collection dominated by high fantasy titles and series. Lord of the Rings, The Way of Kings, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Witcher, there was even a collection of classic fairytales.

I sat beside her, and she immediately stretched her legs back out, her feet landing in my lap. "What are you reading?" She held up the book without looking away from the page. "A mystery novel. A detective in Victorian London." I caught sight of the cover. A woman in a low-cut dress leaned against a man in a top hat, their faces inches apart in the fog. The Scarlet Letter Murders. I grabbed the book from her hands. "Hey!" She sat up, reaching for it. I flipped through a few pages. My eyes landed on a passage. His mouth found the hollow of her throat as his fingers worked the laces of her corset…

"Give us a mystery! Give us a heist! Give us a plot that isn't about who I'm sleeping with!" I lunged for the Anchor just as the silver arrows struck the stone. The combination of my "Editor" energy and the conductive silver created a backdraft of pure, white-hot narrative force. The clones shattered into glass shards. The purple mist was sucked back into the pillar. And then, the voice of the Author changed. It went from a scream to a glitchy, distorted whisper. “Fine. You want a different story? You want a mystery? Then find the Architect. Book Two: The Silent Kingdom. Coming... never.”

A moment later, a piece of paper slid through the narrow gap beneath my door. The footsteps retreated in haste. I peered through the peephole. The hallway was empty. I didn't touch the note, afraid of smudging fingerprints. Instead, I crouched and read the words on it: I know the truth about Edmund's death. Come to the big banyan tree in Greenfield Residences at 11 p.m. Don't call the police. The note was crafted with meticulous care—letters cut out from newspapers and books, pieced together like a ransom demand, leaving no trace of handwriting.