Miss Trouble Novels & Stories

– Megan gave her a light elbow in the shoulder, making her smile shyly. - I still haven't overcome all my insecurities, unfortunately. But luckily I have Mahara and her wonderful couch to help me with that. So please don't rat me out. – Missy pretended to beg, good-humored – Heaven knows I would be absolutely nothing without her therapy sessions. She gave a falsely regretful sigh, unable to help but smile happily.

Nana groaned, dropping my dish on the table. "I think the right question would be, when will this Mishap day curse thing be over." I was getting tired already. We had gotten to another stage. The stage where we could last only 6 hours apart staying normal. Mind you, this 6 hours was not static. No specific time - it could be morning hours or night hours. Most times, it was in the morning. As long as we were apart. So if we stayed away for a whole day, only 6 hours that day would be given to us to stay normal and the rest.... You know.

My body visibly tensed as I just knew my thirty minutes was about to turn into thirty days and thirty hours of chaos, and my whole evening was about to go from bad to worse. “If it's not the janitor girl and the daughter of a slut.” She laughed, “I missed you, girl. I haven't seen you in forever.” “What do you want, Marissa? I don't have time for your trouble. I am tired and don't want any problems.” I asked; my body felt like wet sandbags weighing me down. “Aww, janitor girl is tired.” She mimicked in a childlike voice. “Who's going to give her a massage now?” She looked at her minions.

This was my chance, and I was determined to seize it. … "Houston Group, a well-known real estate company, faces a major financial crisis as Project JH1630 is abandoned, leaving tens of thousands of homeowners demanding compensation." The news anchor's voice was emotionless. I quickly grabbed my phone and pulled up my text history with Carlos—it had been three days since he last texted me. I tried video calling him, only to discover he had blocked my number. I should've known. 50 million dollars wasn't a small amount. He wouldn't have handed it over so easily.

Everyone in my family knew me as a tattletale. I had one simple rule in life—I refused to endure even the tiniest bit of unfairness. When I was three, my uncle sneaked a slice of my apple pie. That night, I marched straight to my grandpa's bedside, burst into tears, and told him exactly what had happened. The next morning, my uncle ended up getting whacked by Grandpa with his cane, under the excuse that he had left the house without saying goodbye. By the time I was eight, I had learned that Christmas was another excellent opportunity to report suspicious behavior. When my cousin secretly stuffed all the presents into the cabinet, I immediately went to my aunt and whispered the whole stor

This was the life I used to dream about. Years later, a news clip flashed on TV. A woman—messy, unhinged—was hacking at a man on the ground. My chest tightened when I saw her. Loree. The light in her eyes was gone. So was the pride. Just madness. Just despair. The man on the ground was Harvey—the one who took everything from her.

"Hello, is this Mr. Dylan Abbott? Your girlfriend, Ms. Felicia Cooper, was already dead before arriving at the hospital. We tried calling you many times before, but you never picked up. Kindly come to the hospital as soon as possible to take her body away." Dylan was stunned. He checked his call logs and realized that there had indeed been dozens of missed calls earlier. He turned to look at Lynette. Lynette smacked her own cheek and said, "Sorry, it's all my fault. I saw the unsaved number calling you so many times and thought it was a scam call, so I never picked up any of them. I didn't think that they would be from the hospital." Dylan didn't mind. He just thought of something and laughe

ME: Would you meet me for coffee tomorrow? I stared at the message. It sounded too casual. I added: ME: Not at the house. You can choose the place. Then: ME: I am not going to argue. I only want to talk. I sent them. The reply did not come immediately. I forced myself to place the phone down. Ten minutes later, it vibrated. MISSY: Why? I typed. ME: Because I miss you. The honesty made me uncomfortable. It also felt right. A minute passed.

Knock! “Miss Christmas? The tissue is here.” I quickly goes to the door to get the tissue to her. “Thanks.” “Are you okay, Miss Christmas?” she asked worrying about me. “Yea, I'm fine. Don't tell him what happened,” I replied and closed the door and start wiping my mouth and face at the same time, “What is happening to me?” I asked while still wiping myself with the tissue.

I drank all the alcohol from the can and then opened another. "Why?" Mommy sat down in front of me and hugged me. Everything is in turmoil. Lianne didn’t talk to me a month ago. Her parents are mad at me and about Cassandra, I don't know either. I thought that was the only mistake I had made. I was surprised to learn that it wasn't. She got pregnant, and I didn’t know what to do anymore. "Liro, let's talk!" I immediately went to where Lianne was. I want to explain. I want her back. This is a mistake. There is a misunderstanding here.