Front Man Novels & Stories

This Julian Clarkson he himself had never maybe allowed to be. He punched the face of the man who had quietly punched the future in the face of a union goon. The man who had curtly dismissed an entire town as an "externality." The man who had built an empire upon a foundation of control and disconnection. That man was present still, a part of his own making. But he was not the only thing. This man, trembling and believing in his arms, was there too. The fort had a crack, and through it, at last, a human being was finally emerging, blinking in the sun.

The man in the front leading the others is like no man I have ever seen. He must be in his early forties with a tall and lean build and black hair, salted with gray at his temples, swept back in a modern and effortless look. His sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones gives him an edge. An edge I would love to fall over. He is gorgeous, wearing a white suit with a black button up shirt beneath. It has to be hot wearing a suit on a warm day like this. But he looks unbothered by heat despite his recent run after a gunman. At least that’s what I guess he and his companions are returning from. “Who are you?” He growls at me when they stop in front of the injured man and me. “What happened to Greg

They were all told that Jason had been put in custody as a suspect. " Next," the hoarse voice rose from behind the painted wall. Rosaleen trudged towards the door and stepped into the office. " What's your name?" the man questioned, his husky voice getting to the deepest of her soul. His big arms stood out like they were ready to attack and his stern face gave away hostility, coldness. " Rosaleen Williams," she found her voice, finally defeating and suppressing the bubbles that tried to interfer with her clear, open answer.

he seems annoyed with my words I don't have anything more to say, just to writhe around in his arms fighting for freedom "Oh, we've got a beauty on our hands," he tells his friends as they approach surrounding me "Much more fun," one adds I elbow the guy behind me making him groan and let me go. I stomp on his foot before taking off and running as fast as I can hearing their thundering footsteps behind me. A hand wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling me to a halt, "Aww, I love when they fight," a guy sings sinisterly from behind me.

“Stand down, we're not alone, stay inside until I give the all clear.” “Boss.” I looked around and scanned the surroundings. “So you're alive I thought the Russian prick was lying. I can see clearly he wasn't.” A male six feet tall came walking towards us alone; he was either brave or stupid. “Let me introduce myself. Orian Miller. Better known as O.” I cranked my gun. “You made us lose our women.” “You did that all by yourself, Green. You should've been aware that it was a set up, but you were to dumb and drunk to realise that you'd been played. NowI'm here to get what belongs to me.”

I know I’d said I would give the owner of that corgi a piece of my mind. But staring up at this giant man who looks like he’s carved of marble - I felt those muscles only moments ago, and the marble may be an accurate description - I was at a loss for words. How much time does he spend in the gym? Or is this not natural, and it’s all steroids? If it is steroids, do I even want to accept that offer of dinner or the use of his laundry?

He didn't know what the man bugging him deal was, and he could have shoved him if he was someone his size. Trevor contemplated what would happen if he told him off. Perhaps, he would receive a heavy blow on his cheeks, and then maybe he'd strangle him for talking back. "Yay or nay?" Trevor bit his tongue to stop himself from yelling, 'Bug off.' Because he was sure what he had thought of would happen to him. Luckily, another man, twice the size of the one in front of him, walked up to them. He had tattoos all over his body, and his face was set in a permanent grimace. His lips were twisted down like he had taken something bitter before coming to the bar and his eyes narrowed.

May had her arms around Warner's as he said coldly, "Brat, did I say you could leave?" "I wasn't planning on leaving. I was waiting for you right here," Wilbur said calmly. Warner laughed coldly as a muscular man came over. The man had many tattoos on his body and had two followers behind him. He looked to be a man who was in a gang. The muscular man walked over and greeted Warner in a friendly manner, "Warner, who's the guy who made you angry? I'll deal with him." "It's him," Warner pointed at Wilbur and said, "Marco, help me break his legs. I'll take responsibility for anything."