Good Books About Adventure

My wife—Nancy Valente—had been "missing" for three months after some fake skiing accident. I spotted her at a bar. She was draped over Finley Bennett's shoulder, laughing like she hadn't wrecked my life. "Good thing you came up with this plan. I almost forgot what freedom felt like." Her crew kept clinking glasses, asking when she planned to pop back up. She glanced down. "Maybe in a week. I'll show up once he's lost his mind." I stayed in the shadows, watching her bask in her little escape act. Then I grabbed my phone and called a buddy at the Vital Records Office.

My younger brother had opened a high-end beauty salon, so I took my mother there for a facial. We picked the most expensive package, but the moment the mask was applied, Mom's face began to burn. When we peeled it off, her entire face was covered in rashes. I called for the director, but she looked impatient. "Oh, that's just a normal detox reaction." I was stunned. "Her face is practically ruined! What products are you even using?" "Ruined?" She flared up like someone had stepped on her tail. "Your mom's skin is just too bad to handle premium nutrients! Once our products are opened, they're non-refundable—got it?" I pointed to the brochure. "It says right here—'gentle and non-irritating, full refund if any adverse reaction occurs.' Is this how Stellan Fallow taught you to run a business?" She crossed her arms and lifted her chin high. "I am the boss! You and your mother look broke as hell—clearly here to mooch a free treatment. Now that it didn't work, you're trying to scam us for money? "Let me tell you something—this set costs 38 thousand, and with my emotional damages and lost wages, that's a total of 100 thousand. If you don't pay up today, I'll have the police take you both in!" A hundred thousand for a product that ruined someone's face? It was no wonder Stellan suddenly wanted to open a salon—it turned out he and his girlfriend were running a scam together! I was about to call Stellan, but before I could, she hit the video dial first. "Bubby, get over here—two broke idiots tried to freeload a treatment and now they're trying to shake us down for money!"

Leo, my mate, wanted to spend Valentine's Day with Cheryl, his first love, on the night Victor and Vera, his parents, were abducted. But this time, instead of stopping him, I contacted the Werewolf Enforcement Bureau to help. After all, when I tried to stop him in the last life, Cheryl ended up dying a horrific death, her heart gouged out by the Feral Rogues, a group of werewolf gangsters. "You killed her! Cheryl wouldn't have died if it weren't for you!" Without hesitation, Leo threw me into a cave where a pack of hungry wolves tore through my body, along with the child I was about to bring into the world. "You don't deserve to live after what you've done… I'm going to stand here and watch you endure all the pain she felt as she died!" Surprisingly, rather than staying dead, I woke up on the exact day when Victor and Vera were abducted once more…

I have claustrophobia, yet Luther Jansen abandons me in a stopped elevator so he can bring some flu medicine to his assistant. I ask for a divorce after that. He signs the papers without hesitation and laughs about it with his friends. "She's just throwing a tantrum—her parents are dead, so there's no way she'll leave me. "Besides, there's a 30-day cooling-off period for divorces, right? I'll generously let this matter slide once she regrets this, and she'll be back." The following day, he shares an intimate photo of himself with his assistant. "I want to record every moment of your shyness." I count the days until I'm free. Then, I calmly pack my stuff and make a call. "Can you buy me a flight ticket to Nanderton, Uncle David?"

My fiancé, Owen Lockhart, came from old money. He kept a canary in a gilded cage, spoiling her rotten. Just as I was about to break off the engagement with him, a barrage of comments suddenly popped up in my mind. [What did Owen do wrong? He just wanted to get your attention.] [Don't break up with him. All you need to do is shed a few tears, and he'll give you everything.] I turned my head, and through the window, I saw the canary in her high-end jewelry, smiling brightly as she hooked her arm around Owen's. He lazily lowered his eyes, yet his expression held a hint of indifference mixed with a subtle affection. I smiled bitterly, replying to the lawyer's message: [Go on with drafting the engagement annulment agreement.]

The moment my roommate walked in, she used my locker. She claimed to have too many things and nowhere else to put them. I rolled my eyes. Why should I let her get her way? I was not her parent. She was no princess, but she acted like one. I was ready to argue, but she tossed 200,000 dollars at me. “At your service, Your Highness!”

My childhood friend used to be a gifted young artist until he fell in love with the most beautiful girl on campus. I told his parents about it, and he was forced to study abroad. Eventually, he took control of the family business, and I became one of his employees. Following his orders, my boss drugged my drink and sent me to the room of a business associate. I was subjected to humiliation and torture until I died.I woke up again, realizing that I had been transported back in time to a point before all of these events had occurred.

My fiancee gets drunk the day before our wedding. While I'm taking her home, she mistakes me for my best friend. "Jackson, don't bring our child to the wedding tomorrow. I don't want Samuel to know about us." I slam on the brakes, causing Madelyn Wilkinson to hit the seatback and come to her senses. When she realizes it's me, she freezes for a moment before slowly explaining, "Since you heard that, let's call off the wedding for now. You don't have to worry. Jackson doesn't plan on getting married again. But I'm still that child's mother no matter what, so I need to help out. "Jackson's your best friend. You feel sorry for him if he has to raise a child alone, don't you? I'll marry you after my son starts school." I can't help smiling bitterly. "Alright then… I don't have a problem with that." When we get home, she packs up a suitcase and leaves without another word. Feeling a sting in my eyes, I suppress my emotions as I sit on the couch, falling into a daze. That's when my phone rings at the worst possible moment. My childhood friend, Hazel Parsons, says in a hoarse voice, "Sam, don't marry her. Please." I fall silent for a beat. "Alright."

I lucked out, securing a guaranteed admission spot at Westbridge University—the one the real heiress throws away. Nicole Stewart drops out for love and runs off with the school's bully, shattering what should've been her perfect life. Meanwhile, I'm branded a thief, accused of stealing her place. However, I fight my way up to become a powerhouse in business and even marry her childhood sweetheart, Spencer Lowe. Yet, at the peak of it all, I open my eyes to find myself back to graduation day of senior year, right when I'm filling out my choices of colleges. A live barrage of comments flashes before my eyes. "That fake heiress, Gloria Stewart, is nothing but a thief. She stole Nicole's life!" "In her last life, Nicole actually dropped out of school to start a business with some school bully. She even gave her childhood sweetheart, who was her fiance, to someone else! Ugh, she's so stupid and pathetic." "Good thing Nicole gets a second chance. This time, the real heiress has awakened, so let's just see how miserable that fake heiress who stole her life becomes!" I just smile at the scrolling insults. Sorry, but I carve my own path. Nicole can be reborn a hundred times, and she still can't stop me from rising to the top.

This book is a must-read for teenagers. It brings out the emotional and physical countenances of most teenagers, in verisimilitude. Anderson Simpson and his friend, Harrison Edgeton, are in for an adventure that would blow your mind. They discovered things about themselves that they never knew or understood, when they went back through time, with the help of an old Time Machine of “The Time Gods"