Ghosts Of My Girlfriends Past Novels & Stories

Olivia sudden reappearance had dredged up a whirlwind of memories - memories of love, betrayal, and everything in between. Olivia, my ex-girlfriend, had reappeared in my life like a ghost from the past, haunting me with memories I had long tried to bury. Seven years had passed since she vanished without a trace, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and shattered dreams. And now, here she was, poised to strike once again with a team of mysterious accomplices at her side.

She clasped her hands and looked at me with her puppy eyes. I awkwardly cleared my throat. "Uhm," I bit my lower lip. "It's not literally a ghost. More like uhm..." Her mouth formed an O then nodded. She scanned the area then looked at me again with teasing eyes. "A ghost of what? Of past? G! Why does it feels like that that ghost you were talking about is your ex?" She started tickling me on the waist.

I want to forget the fucking world right now. “I didn’t like you touching Ghost.” He growls lowly as he breaks our kiss. He grabs a fist full of my hair to pull my head back, exposing my neck. “I didn’t like touching him. I feel dirty because of it.” I admit. I feel so nasty on the inside and the outside that I had to flirt with Ghost. Touching him made my skin crawl. I hated watching Ghost eye fuck me every ten minutes or so. I think that slimball would have had his tongue down my throat if he wasn't busy packing drugs. The second I sat down next to Ghost, I realized Zane was right. Ghost would drug me to rape me or worse. Ghost isn’t a good person. He’s the type of slimball that drugs wome

She stupidly claimed Lycans are used to being naked. "We need blood!" someone shouted over the music as the DJ, Thorne, changed the music selection to a darker theme. The chandelier lights went gothic, and partygoers went crazy with bawdy dancing. I had enough after relaxing and rejecting my fifth sexual advance from twin sisters in tight leggings and tank tops. I squeezed by the drunk sisters and ran to my room, closing the door. My friend was right. I was a sourpuss. *** I felt a familiar presence and jerked awake. It was happening again. Every night, a crying ghost appeared at my window.

But not even a long, lingering kiss could quell this nagging feeling in my belly. ~~ Ghost patiently waited for me in a cafe outside the train station, nursing a cup of coffee, probably his second, and an empty plate. “Sorry, I’m late.” I pulled the wooden chair across from him. A server instantly came to the table, taking my order. He shrugged. “It’s fine.” “Where’s Rain?” I asked, looking for her girlfriend. “Paying Amanda a visit,” Ghost murmured, typing on his phone, and soon mine pinged with a new notification.

I reached out and pressed the radio button on the steering wheel. My voice was cold, cutting through the static. "Mason Vale, do you see a ghost in your mirror?" I said coldly into the radio. Those words pierced straight through Mason's last line of composure. His car hesitated for an obvious instant on the straight. Now. I smashed the throttle down. The car tore through the air and pulled alongside him. Ahead was a chain of fast S-curves. Seeing that I was about to pass, a vicious look flashed through Mason's eyes.

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

"If you insult my partner again, I'll have security escort you out." My girlfriend, Kaylee Dishman, was gentle by nature. At work, she was approachable and well-liked by everyone. How could she possibly be a killer? The woman in front of me looked deathly pale, as though all the color had been drained from her face. She didn't seem the least bit surprised by my reaction. "You'll believe me eventually," she said. "You're a man of conscience." Her gaze slowly drifted to the plaque on my office wall. "Your girlfriend won't be coming home tomorrow night. She's going to dispose of a body." After saying that, she got up and left.

he answers in a bored tone, like I should’ve known this already. Like he had already told me about it, and I chose to forget. Like he didn’t just let me get thrown into a literal survival test without any information whatsoever. But in the midst of my guide-loathing, something he said strikes me. “What do you mean “including the literal ones”?” Allison throws me a crazy look, but thankfully, doesn't say anything. “What do you think I mean?” Are ghosts supposed to be sarcastic and rude? “I am not a ghost.” He grimaces. “Calling me that would reduce my existence to the form of a mere soul. I have never been a mortal.”