Mine The Book Novels & Stories

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It only means he cheated on me before the accident. "Pfft. How simple could your passkey be that even a five year old could hack it." I scorned and hissed. " Guess the King of Tech isn't such a big deal if a five year old could humble him." He chuckled, eyes bright and starry. His eyes softens. His voice drops low, sensual and mesmerising. " It's not really simple. It's November, nine, nineteen ninety." Shivers rushed down my spine. Wearing a thin smile that matched the way my husband beams, he whispered. " I know you recognise the digits."

She deleted it. She settled herself on the couch and switched on the TV. There was nothing on so she switched it off again. She reached for a book on her coffee table and flipped it open to the bookmarked page. Ten minutes later she replaced the bookmark on the same page. She sighed and wondered if she was doomed to think about Damien all night. It might not be so bad if she kept her thoughts focussed on the sex and not the man himself. That couldn't do any harm.

My heart ached with the weight of everything that had happened, but in this moment, surrounded by memories, I felt a glimmer of hope. As I rummaged through the second last box, I found a small, locked journal. It was worn and faded, the leather cover cracked.I forced it open. The handwriting looked familiar.It was Aunt's.I didn't know Aunt kept a journal. I left the last two boxed for another day and climbed back up the stairs, with the journal in my hand, closing the trapdoor behind me.

Later that night, in a quiet room off the east corridor, Joana found him—Zane, seated in one of the reading lounges, half-consumed by a massive book on Russian trade dynasties. “You’re changing,” she said, not unkindly. Zane looked up. “Am I?” She sat opposite him. “You walk like someone who knows where they’re going now.” “I’m still here, Joana. Still caged.” “Maybe.” She leaned forward. “But you’re sharpening your teeth.” Zane closed the book. “Why does that matter to you?” Joana tilted her head. “Because sooner or later, the house will crack. And when it does, I want to know which side of the rubble you’re standing on.”

The day began as most days did — with cold stone underfoot and the familiar ache in my hands before the sun had properly climbed the sky. Mistress Hale had me in the scullery first, hauling buckets and scrubbing the soot from last night’s pots until the water turned black and my fingers stung from lye. When the cook clapped her hands and declared the hearth was hungry again, I was sent to fetch kindling from the lower stores. When the pantry boy dropped a sack of grain and split it open like a careless wound, I was made to sweep every last kernel from the corners as though my life depended on it.

Third-Person POV Mason didn't stay at the hospital. He drove straight to the office, headed down to the archives, and began searching through files from five years earlier, the darkest period the company had ever endured. At the back of a locked filing cabinet, he finally found what he had been looking for. The investment agreement had arrived anonymously. The paper had yellowed with age. He turned to the last page and froze. In the bottom right corner was a handwritten note. [Risk level acceptable. Approval recommended.]

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The little goblin stood this way, the book held tightly in her hands, her lips moving silently. "Well?" Mike asked after nearly a minute had passed. "Tink doesn't remember." Shoulders slumping, Tink handed the book to Mike. "Maybe husband figure out?" "We'll see." Opening the book, he was surprised to see the words swim across the page, the text fixing itself in place before his eyes. Expecting some profound piece of magic, he realized he was looking at a fairly simple recipe for peanut butter cookies. Flipping back and forth, he saw that the recipe was the same on every page.

He wouldn't be in my home right now. Once Neil and Elaina showed up, I felt a little more at ease in my own house. Clarkson went in to help Brynne and Marie in the kitchen while Gabrielle and Elaina seemed to hit it off by talking books-something trending about a very young billionaire and his obsession with an even younger woman... and sex. Lots of erotic sex scenes in the book, like apparently on every page. Neil and I looked sympathetically at each other and had absolutely nothing to add to the conversation. I mean, who reads this crap? Who has time? Why even read about sex in a book when you can have it instead? I don't get that. And billionaires in their twenties? I mentally shook my he