Matthew Quick Writer Novels & Stories

"My boss, Dawn-she has a friend who needed a ghostwriter. Dawn thinks I'll be perfect for it." "A ghostwriter?" Apparently I'd been reduced to simply repeating words now. "Yeah." Quinn tilted her head. "You know ...this guy wants to write a book, but he needs help. He has the story, but he needs someone to make it happen. Organize it, polish it ...make sure it flows. That's what I'm going to do." "Oh." I braced a hand against the wall, surprised to see I was still holding the crumpled chip bags. "He's a football player, actually." Quinn glanced up at me through her lashes, as though she wasn't sure how I was going to take this news.

Hi everyone, I’m Alphamini, the author of "My Little Mate". Before we dive into the story behind this book, let me share a bit about myself. My real name is Shivani Sharma, and I'm a part-time author with five years of writing experience. My favorite genres include Vampire, Werewolf, Billionaire, Young Adult, and Fantasy. Besides writing novels, I enjoy reviewing and providing feedback on other authors’ story outlines and the first five chapters of their books. I also have a passion for researching writing techniques and materials.

“Yes?” “How long have you been a Hunter for?” Bran asked out of the blue. “A few months. Why?” Matthew was a bit surprised when he asked. “You’re already Rookie rank. How is that possible?” “I was instantly promoted from the start because of my performance.” Bran stopped examining his sword and looked at Matthew. “That’s unfair. From what I heard, it’s nearly impossible to get promoted just like that. How come you were able to?” “Well, going by points, my scores are all quite good honestly.”

************************************* AUTHORS NOTE Hi guys, thank you all so much for getting this far! I really hope you are enjoying the story. I have launched a new I*******m page to keep you all up to date on Shadowed Creatures as well as any other stories I have in the pipe line. Please head on over and say hello. @kmatthewsauthor Please do leave your comments and reviews, I would love to hear your thoughts. Stay safe x

*** Matthew had had a very worried look on his face when he had sat down with me in the conference room yesterday. “Tobacco?” I had asked, extending my box. He had hesitated but then took one. With the cigarette shaking in his quivering gingers, Matthew had set his palms down on the table and then looked up at me. “It happened four years ago,” he said to me, “I had just graduated and was working as an engineer at an oil and gas organization. I understood a lot about automobiles and people frequently started coming up to me and asking for advice about their vehicles – cars, trucks, vans, everything. I guess I had developed that kind of reputation. I worked for Axiom Oil & Gas—“

“Hydrate your guilt. It’s wilting.” Elias followed me around the next day. Asked questions like “Do you believe in ghosts?” and “What’s the fastest you’ve ever run from someone with a gun?” I answered honestly. Yes. And 34 seconds. He wrote it down in a notebook. “Is this for a story?” I asked. “No,” he said. “It’s for my memory. I don’t want to forget you.” Matteo started fixing the garden,he said it needed “less trauma and more vegetables.”

“Track record?” “When I was eight though, I started writing at that age. And I still do to this day.” Matthew is dissolved in his story. “When I read my own writing since I started and until now, I can clearly see the difference in the time that has passed. I can see the age, maturity of thought, development and understanding of myself. As well as the insights, anxieties that I experienced, the story of that time and many more things that I can find in my own writing every time that happens." Jennie listened to the stories without interrupting or reacting until finished his story.

Damon. I hated how easy it was to imagine his face—the steel of his jaw, the way his eyes could cut me down to dust, or soften just enough to trick me into believing there was something underneath all that ice. More than once, I had written to Matthew. Just short emails—carefully worded questions slipped into ordinary exchanges, as if I wasn’t desperate for more. How is he? --I typed once, my fingers hovering before pressing send, my tone disguised as casual. The reply came hours later. Polite. Careful.

Jenna cleared her throat, "I'm an author, well quite famous among limited circles," Jenna replied gracefully as if she was really famous. Adam frowned, "What kind of author? Limited circle? Do you write books on political economy or something?" Jenna chuckled, "I'm an online platform novelist! Huh, I'm quite famous!" Adam suddenly seemed to have an idea. "So you can pretend to be a famous Ghostwriter in America or England or whatever! So my mother won't be able to find your name. Ghostwriter won't leave any traces,"

“When I could’ve spoken to him myself.” “His words are here,” Matteo said, tapping the page gently. “A lot of people hire ghostwriters for memoirs, but this—this is all him. He spent months on it. He wanted everything to be right.” Good. Then maybe the answers I needed were here too. “If you have questions…” He trailed off, glancing down before clearing his throat. “Questions that aren’t answered in the book—I’ll do my best.” “Thank you, Matteo.” A moment passed before I understood his hesitation. Earlier that day, he and Luciano De Luca had nearly come to blows—while I’d stood frozen between them.