Mystery Books Online Novels & Stories

I sat beside her, and she immediately stretched her legs back out, her feet landing in my lap. "What are you reading?" She held up the book without looking away from the page. "A mystery novel. A detective in Victorian London." I caught sight of the cover. A woman in a low-cut dress leaned against a man in a top hat, their faces inches apart in the fog. The Scarlet Letter Murders. I grabbed the book from her hands. "Hey!" She sat up, reaching for it. I flipped through a few pages. My eyes landed on a passage. His mouth found the hollow of her throat as his fingers worked the laces of her corset…

I take one last look at myself until I strike a pose and say,"Perfect," I hear mom from downstairs telling me to hurry up, so I grab my book bag and put on my glasses and was about to leave my room until I remember my most important thing. I go to my book-shelf and pull out a book that reads, Gone Girl by Giliian Flynn on the front cover. I've always loved mysteries; I can't remember one day where I wasn't watching Criminal Minds or Goosebumps in my room.

"In traditional belief systems, certain individuals were thought to have natural gifts—mediums, sensitives, those who could perceive beyond normal human senses." Casie's mind raced. "We need to check local paranormal investigation groups, psychic readers, anyone who claims a connection to the spirit world." "You're taking this seriously?" Rick looked incredulous. "Psychics and mediums?" "The killer is," she pointed out. "That's what matters." Rick shook his head but began typing again. "There's a paranormal research society at the university. A few storefront psychics downtown. Even a ghost tour company that claims their guide has 'the gift.'"

I didn't know what to type, I just stared at his last message. Mystery man: So you are also a writer on Goodnovel, share me the l**k to your book. I will like to check it out. Me: Just type in itchy fingers or either My daughter's Nanny or Yes, master in the search space. I have two books on the platform, you can check any out. Mystery man: My daughter's Nanny? Is it romance? Me: Yes, of course. A mafia romance. Mystery man: I can tell you are an hopeless romantic.

“No doubt.” “What about those two small FedEx boxes?” “Most recent novels from Samhain Horror.” “Awesome. Those books I bought at the Webb County Library sale last week?” “Sorted into general and mystery fiction. Struck the mother lode with all those Mary Higgins Clark novels.” “We cater to all tastes, miss. Unless you like Twilight, 50 Shades of Gray or James Patterson. Folks want drivel, they can drive to Utica.” “Hey. I actually liked Twilight. It wasn’t all bad.”

But nothing seemed to match the symbol on my door. Frustrated, I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. There had to be something here, some clue that I was missing. I glanced at the stack of books beside me, my eyes landing on one that looked older and more worn than the others. Its leather cover was cracked and faded, the title barely legible: *The Mysteries of Silverwood.* I pulled the book closer and opened it carefully. The pages were brittle, the text handwritten in an elegant script. As I flipped through the pages, a passage caught my eye:

I replied, shaking his hand briefly before pulling it back, a tingle left in its place. “So, Kalia, what’s so captivating in that book of yours that you almost missed the best coffee in town?” He nodded toward my cup. I tilted my head, considering him. “You are assuming I don’t already know that this place has the best coffee.” He raised an eyebrow. “Fair enough. But now I’m curious about the book.” I held it up, the cover facing him. “It’s a mystery novel. Keeps me on my toes.” He leaned in slightly, intrigued. “A mystery, huh? So, you like solving puzzles?”