My Property Isn't Normal Novels & Stories

It was mine. “Okay… will that be updated online too? I don’t live in the area, and I’d really like to get into the property as soon as possible.” “Well, the property is yours, but technically, you shouldn’t enter until you have the title.” He leaned forward. I studied him out of habit. Thin lips, strong clean-shaven jaw. Freckles dusted over pale skin, hinting at Scottish heritage, red in his light hair. Average build. His features registered, but none of them touched me.

Fear coiled in my empty stomach as the werewolves moved toward me. My limbs were too weak to fight back, but that didn’t stop me from trying. I pushed against the ground, attempting to stand, but my knees buckled instantly. Beta Henry clicked his tongue. “Pathetic,” He muttered.

But yeah… Far from normal…

“If you owns half this area, why do people say you rarely come here?” She remembered the gossip—how Layson supposedly avoided this district. Layson let out a quiet laugh. “Norman’s properties are everywhere. If I had to personally manage each one, I’d need seventy-two hours in a day.” In truth, he had no fondness for this place. He only snatched it up to spite Mr. Garcia. The project planning and operations were handed off without a second thought. Later, Boss Jones had muscled in, carving out a piece near the land. It had been a warning shot.

Ethan asked no one in particular. "I'm sorry Sir but this property now belongs to First City Metropolis Bank. You no longer have access to it."

No rewriting necessary. We may get an opportunity now after many weeks have passed.

I stood in the kitchen, dicing some vegetables for the food I was cooking for dinner. I had gotten my first pay just yesterday, and used a small amount for the groceries we needed at home. Everything has just been so strange these past few days. It was nearly as if a magical wand had touched my step father. Suddenly, he was in such a good mood, that he was almost never at home, and when he was, he sat down in the garage welding for people, while humming some Korean old songs.

I frown, shake my head, and pull the phone away from my ear long enough to press 'replay', determined to focus this time. Allen Jones. Residential and commercial property. Next week. By the time I reach the end of his voicemail again my knees are weak, and my pulse is pounding in my ears. What the hell is the matter with you? That is a potential client. No-fly zone. Grow up!

Matilda leaned up against it, her eyes wide in astonishment, and said, “What the fuck did I just do?” Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in;

Joy that he wasn’t dumping me out there on the sidewalk… Hope that maybe this wasn’t the very end… And embarrassment – because billionaire Connor Templeton was about to see my grungy little apartment. “Um… okay… just know that it’s not as fancy as what you’re used to…” “It’s normal, right?” he grinned. “This is Normal Day.” “You’re going native, huh?” “Damn straight. All the way.” I smiled in spite of myself, and led him up to the gate of my apartment building.