Modest Novels & Stories

"No worries, luckily you're late cause my shooting lasts for three hours." "Shooting? Are you an actress?" "No, I'm a model." "Oh... What kind?" "Glamour." "What is that? I'm not familiar with that word, sorry." "I advertise lingerie, bikini, boudoir and even a sports car. Most of the offer I got is from men's magazines, casino cards and calendar." "Oh! Now I know... By the way, is this your house?" "No, it's my boss." "You live here too? Or you both are in a relationship?"

And even if I'm a bit hesitant to sit beside him, the fact still remains that I don't have a choice but to put up a facade and pretend that I'm not nearing to explosion. And Top, being the entertainer that he is, managed to break the awkwardness, well, at least among the rest of my friends and the other three members of the band, and started to talk about random funny stuff making all of them laughed. I secretly observed Maze while pretending to listen with our friends' conversation and I can see how reserved he is. He's not really a drunkard and he's still with his first bottle of beer while listening to Top's jokes. But I can see that he's not laughing even at Top's funniest jokes. It's as

“Eleven fights, like you said, nobody’s ever made it further. So why not enjoy what I’ve got. And what I have is a pussy I want nobody else fucking touching.” “Modest then?” Vincent checked, his silver eyes twinkling in amusement. “Like a fucking nun.” “FIne. You’re my main man so whatever, let’s go with it.” With that he nodded and shut the door, leaving us alone again.

Weren’t famous ball players supposed to be hiding in private so no one could bother them? Out of nowhere an older gentleman with a cheeky smile and broad shoulders approached me. He carried two drinks in his hands and smiled while looking at me. He was of average size with dark brown hair, and a chiseled face. What he didn’t make up for in height he certainly made up for in bulk. It was evident he worked out and loved to get attention from women. The way he looked at me made me realize that he wasn’t one to take no for an answer so I quickly prepared myself to leave if needed.

Hunter calls me fat, and my agent says I don't eat enough. Freddie, my agent, nicknamed Red by his lady friends, is understanding of my thyroid issues. Hunter thinks it's a made-up issue. A scar on my neck could ruin my life and my model career. The magazine that sponsors me as their poster child is called Model Perfect. They get my image, and I get their merchandise. They sponsor my college fund and own me. I'm only in it for the college money.

He wore a plain black V-neck T-shirt that hugged his tall and well-built frame along with dark jeans and was leaning against his car with his hands crossed against his chest. This is the first time I have seen him in casual clothes and I would be lying if I said he didn't look handsome. He looked bewitching. I know I shouldn't be going out at this time of night, especially with someone whom I barely know, but I desperately need a distraction right now. I don't have any friends except Elena and I don't want to disturb her and something within me really trusts Noah for some unknown reason. He gave me an engaging smile as soon as he saw me and I returned to my own, at least I would like to thin

My heart quickened as she noticed me and made her way toward me, weaving through the sea of people with practiced ease. Mrs. Moore wore her typical fur coat over an extravagant white power suit and dark sunglasses, even though it wasn’t sunny outside. She styled her peppered golden brown hair in a high ponytail, which stretched her features and made her look younger. She really was a beautiful woman. No wonder Kat was a stunning beauty.

Just a little taste. *******************************************************

"It’s sloppy. It’s mediocre. And I don’t pay for mediocrity. If you can't distinguish a projected share increase from actual revenue, find a job that requires less thinking. Perhaps in a kitchen." ​The room went dead silent. The insult was so casual, so pointedly arrogant, that I felt a surge of heat behind my eyes. I remembered him sitting on our small couch, thanking me for a simple plate of sausages. Now, he was using his power to humiliate a woman who was just doing her best. ​"I... I’m sorry, Mr. Cromwell. I’ll fix it," Sarah whispered, her head bowed. ​"Don't be sorry. Be competent," Luke snapped. He turned away from her, dismissive, and caught Monica’s eye. "Is the media team ready? I

Maybe just for once. ************