John Rosemond Book Novels & Stories

As I put one of my feet inside of the warm and welcoming water filled with the petals of the beloved and most beautiful rose. I sometimes wonder why it has so much love being given to it. It is so imperfect, yet that is its perfection just like all of us--We are perfect and one because of the imperfections of us. I also wonder why a rose just steals my heart every time I look at it--it's just so magnificent. Is it because of the color that it possesses or because of the way it possesses the frail heart of mine? So melted in my thoughts that I was, I didn't realize that I had to get out of the bath to get ready.

“Come on, man. Rosa’s looking hot tonight. She keeps smiling at you, and you’ve only got eyes for your beer.” Rome looked over at Rosa. She was hot. Long, red hair, and legs that never ended. She was definitely someone he’d be interested in getting to know better--if it weren’t for that phone call earlier. All he could think about was Ella. He’d even looked around the club, wondering if any of these girls could be her. But none of them looked like the picture he had of her in his mind. Dark hair, wide eyes, a beautiful smile…. No, he had a feeling his Ella wasn’t here tonight. “You should at least get up and dance,” Bart said, nudging him with his shoulder. “I need a wingman.”

Because of what's happening now and what she's observing, Amethyst can't help. Amethyst sat on the edge of her bed, her thoughts racing. He still couldn't get out of his mind the many possibilities that could be true now. Moreover, he has doubts about Jonathan. For Amethyst, Jonathan wasn't what he seemed. It's like it's different from the information he knows about it. The more she observed him, the more it became clear that he wasn't just an ordinary pawn in the intricate chessboard of the mafia world. According to La Xiena's intelligence, Jonathan is just a chess piece. However, that wasn't what she saw right now.

A scout from the western shore rode in half-drowned, his armor streaked with sand and the smell of salt thick in his clothes. He didn’t kneel when he entered the war room. He just stood there, shaking, eyes wild. “It’s the sea,” he rasped. “It moves wrong.” James took the parchment from him, spreading it across the table. The ink had bled, but the words were clear enough: Tides reversing. Waves breaking inland. Fish found red. Red. That word had followed us from the storm like a curse that wouldn’t fade. When the scout was gone, James leaned close.

The warm atmosphere chilled significantly at the interruption. The waiter stood there awkwardly, holding the roses, unsure whether to do as she said. When Heather remained silent, he chose to leave silently. This did not deter Charles at all. He continued to send a bouquet of roses, pink this time, to her studio every single day. None of the bouquets even made it inside; they were disposed of in the trash can almost immediately. At another art exhibition, Charles confronted Heather at the entrance and demanded why she refused to accept his flowers.

I held my breath, breaking out in sweat as his proximity made fear spread through my now shivering frame. "You see... The Black Rose is a bad crowd to stick with. They'll lead you to your death. As a friend and a man who's insanely attracted to you... I advise you to cut all ties with them." His smile remained on his face, his voice still the same low, soft lilt it had been since he started speaking. Yet... There seemed to be venom in every syllable, burning through my skin like acid, making my heart pound painfully against my chest. I was afraid. This man... there was something about him, something sinister. He was going to hurt me. He wanted to hurt me.

The end. Thank you for reading Rosie and Jude's story. I'm so emotional right now; I can't believe I finished this book.When I started writing this story, I didn't like it or have any pull to it—I was just writing it. Then when I reached chapter 20, I had to go back and rewrite some scenes, and that's when I started genuinely liking Rosie and Jude.I've one long ass of author note (the author note here has limited space) please do check discord or my F******k or I*******m @authorroyhanh

As his eyes caught sight of her, the expression on his face softened and he found himself staring. “U-um, hello. Are you my contact here?” Rojean asked, feeling a little conscious that the man was staring at her like that but she couldn’t really complain now. It was her work over the line. ‘I thought he’ll be a lot older.’ she thought to herself, shifting to her seat at how uncomfortable she was at the moment. He cleared his throat once he had gotten back to reality and sat up straight. “I guess, yes. I’m the president’s secretary.”

The girl leaned close, and the boy looked up at her, the corners of his eyes curving slightly. His gaze was full of her. He smiled and pointed to the flowerpot she had just placed nearby. Half teasing, he said, “Then Cecilia is a red rose. Delicate and thorny. Only I can afford to take care of you.” Cecilia turned and looked at the roses Lucas had placed in the room that morning. And tears streamed silently down her face.