Love Barn Novels & Stories

“You’re late.” “Traffic,” I lied, before turning to Carolyn. “This is Carolyn Okoli. My friend.” My father’s eyes narrowed. His handshake with the senator beside him paused for a beat. Just long enough to signal: this wasn’t in the plan. Carolyn smiled, polite and composed. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. Thank you for having me.” My mother gave her the once-over. “Of course, dear. What a lovely dress.” Translation: Not designer. Not expensive enough.

Women danced in various costumes, some elaborate, others minimal. A woman in a black suit approached me. Older, confident, the kind of person who'd seen everything twice and wasn't impressed anymore. "First time?" she asked. "That obvious?" "You have that look." She gestured toward the back. "I'm Madam Fantasy. I run this establishment. What can we do for you?" "I have a Private booth. And I was recommended someone named Jailbird." She lifted an eyebrow, not surprised but definitely more attentive now. “Jailbird is one of our most requested performers. I hope you understand she doesn't come cheap.”

Vampires and other supernatural beings, even aliens won't be able to hear us inside and know when we are watching them" "Wow" "We call it, the MB... which means, Mind's blocker," Clyde said. "Nice..." "Now, it's time to move to this little niggar here. Lia checked his information using his hand print and was able to gather something. His name is Mason Jacobs, an orphan who a quiet life in a cottage, down the woods, in the open street" "I see" Kristen nodded, following. "Mason Jacobs?" Clyde called. Mason didn't reply. He just kept his face down. Clyde grunted and held his hair. He pulled it up, making Mason look at him in the face. He whimpered in pain.

I needed to look my best as his secretary. I was about to grab a sandwich from the dining table before leaving when a note under a tablespoon caught my attention. "I'm late for work because of you, so I left first. Don't forget to eat breakfast before leaving. Have a nice day :)" ~Rose My lips curved into a smile. Rose's mom mode included caring, too. I dug into my bacon and eggs like a hungry beast then left for work. I took out the spare key from my shoulder bag and opened the main door of Mr. Thompson's house. Yes, house. I needed to start my day as a cook and end it like a secretary.

She had to summarize all that in that first encounter or otherwise she would be wasting her time. He was looking down at his book, legs crossed. “Love is A Dog From Hell” by Charles Bukowski. An excellent choice of literature, she thought. He was wearing a long-sleeved knitted sweater and washed-out blue jeans, dark brown leather boots, too clean for hiking boots, he looked more like an indoor guy.

Addy whirled around to see Barto Luciani standing in the doorway, looking at the two of them with a slight smile on his face. “Barto! I didn’t see you come in,” Lydia stammered. He barely acknowledged her. Instead, he stared at Addy with admiration in his eyes. Moving closer, he held out his hand and said, “You must be Addison Reynolds. I loved the sketches I saw in your portfolio.” Addy felt her face heat as she shook Barto’s hand. Nodding, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Luciani. I appreciate the compliment.” He chuckled and said, “It was no compliment, my dear girl. I speak the truth, for you have quite the talent for designing. In fact, I love that outfit you’re wearing. Did you design it your