Mr Moseby Novels & Stories

Propelled by his triumphant acquisition of an MBA, Blake Moore, the visionary and sole owner, took over Moore Enterprises, forging an extraordinary path of success. As the city pulsed with vibrant energy, Moore Enterprises crackled with palpable anticipation, eagerly awaiting the imminent and pivotal company meeting. The meeting room, adorned with resplendent furnishings, bathed in a cascade of warm, natural light that embraced every corner through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Taking center stage at the head of the table, Blake exuded a commanding presence, ready to ignite the passion within his team of fiercely dedicated professionals. By his side, a pillar of unwavering support, Lily, Bla

Finally, she had no choice but to reluctantly admit that she was the weakest among them. However, she did not want to be an onlooker standing far away from them although she was the weakest. There were some things you just had to take part in and observe from a close distance before you stopped worrying. As she put on her bulletproof vest, she took the scalpel she brought everywhere with her out from her pocket. “I’ll protect myself.” Elijah smiled. “That’s right.” “Mrs. Moses is a professional cardiothoracic surgeon who can locate a person’s heart in the blink of an eye.”

One word at a time with a deadly calmness. Eleanor nodded. “Yes uncle Bob…I went to see Elisa.” She had to mention which of her friends as that was going to be his next question. “Hmmm,” he mumbled, dropped the toothpick in the plate and then nodded quietly. Eleanor wondered what had happened that she couldn’t remember. Uncle Bob was the disciplinarian of the house. He only gets this way when something serious had happened. “Did I do something…” as she tried to ask herself this question, some memories flashed through her head. She went down the memory lane. Last she remembered she had gone to see Elisa like uncle Bob just said but whatever happened afterwards seemed to be blurry in her head.

I moved down the aisle, spotted an empty seat halfway down the row and made for it, sliding into it fast, dropping my bag by my feet, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear as I pulled out my notebook like I had been here all along. “I don’t appreciate lateness.” The voice snapped across the room and sent a jolt straight through me. My eyes went to the front of the class and then I froze. Standing there, one hand in his pocket, looking directly at me was the last person I ever expected to see behind a professor’s desk. Art fucking Wilson.