Novelas y relatos de Needle Nook Atlanta

"They're all out of Atlanta. I'd think New York has a selection second to none." She giggled, and when I turned toward her, she seemed softer than before-easygoing. "We do. I assumed, based on what little bit Felicity said about Beau's hometown, that there'd be rabbit ears on the television sets in the local motel. And we'd eat dinner at the drive-in next to the thrift shop. Harden's been a nice surprise...minus the whole canceled wedding thing." I pulled her rental car into the gravel parking lot of Sadler's. There wasn't much to the place on the outside-or inside for that matter-just an old building that had been a bar for as long as I could remember. "Still think Harden's a quaint town?"

I pulled my sleeve down. I crossed the street. The bell above the door chimed when I pushed it open. The human in the chair looked up. The girl at the front desk looked up. Athena did not look up. “We’re fully booked for walk-ins today,” she said, voice even, still focused on the arm in front of her. “I’m not here for a tattoo.” Her hand stilled. Slowly, she set the needle down. Slowly, she looked up. Those dark blue eyes found mine and for exactly one second — one — something moved through them. Then it was gone, sealed over like it had never been there.

ELAINA SANTORO I found myself standing in front of the towering skyline of downtown Atlanta, the cityscape stretching out before me like an intricate maze of possibilities. The bustling streets were alive with the energy of the city, a symphony of honking cars and hurried footsteps. It had been a while since I had set foot in this concrete jungle, and a mix of nostalgia and apprehension coursed through my veins.

It’s compact, with only six rounds. “Atlanta is a big city,” Vincent explains, his voice laced with caution. “There’s a chance we’ll run into other survivors. Promise me you'll use this only as a last resort.” “I promise,” Tuck replies, stowing the firearm in his left boot. “Doc,” crackles Max’s voice over the radio. “Exit 9 is jammed. We’ll have to take the next one.” His taillights flicker ahead. Vincent navigates through the wreckage, following Max’s path as they reach the exit ramp and arrive in a derelict Atlanta.

"Number one. United States. Atlanta. She's been nominated, Dante." I had stood in the corridor outside the boardroom with my hand over my mouth. Then I had gone back into the meeting and ended it seventeen minutes early and nobody questioned me because apparently my expression communicated that this was not a negotiable situation. *** Atlanta was warm for the season. The venue was grand without being graceless, filled with prominent figures from all works of life. We had a table near the front.

Yet, something sits in the pit of my stomach that makes me feel uneasy. In all the time I have been in the arranged engagement with Nico, Mia has never once mentioned a friend in Atlanta, and we have known each other for several years. Nor has she ever talked about anyone knowing a lot about the Santangelo family or Nico. Something doesn’t sit right. I take a look through the glass window to make sure that Odeon is in place. He is in sight looking intimidating. Relieved I go and place the coffee order at the wood bar/counter and leave a false name, Alexa for the barista.

The Alpha or the Luna was incomplete without their significant. "What are you doing here?" Noelle rolled her eyes as she slurped up her yummy noodles. "Craving noodles." She raised her cup and then added, "And some alone time." Ezekiel rolled his eyes as he plopped down next to his mate, the both of them alerted at once when they heard the creak of the roofing panels. "If it gives way and we fall, I am going to make sure you sleep out on the porch for a month." Noelle narrowed her eyes at her mate and got back to her midnight snack.

The dimly lit corner of Noir, the city's most exclusive lounge, provides perfect cover for clandestine meetings. Daphne Munroe sits alone, nursing a glass of cabernet, her manicured fingernails tapping impatiently against the polished surface of the table. Her eyes drift to her watch—an elegant Cartier piece that Lucas once complimented—noting that her mysterious contact is seven minutes late.

GEORGIA, ATLANTA 2023 ~SIERRA~ Since the guards in Houston communicated with the ones in Atlanta, they were already waiting for us. Gilbert was with the kids, helping them get in the car. Atlas was asleep, so he got the back seat to himself. I tried Nana's number again, but she didn't pick up, “still?” Gilbert asked; he was at the back helping Atlas while I sat in the middle row with Ingrid and Nathan.

"Together." Damian turned the small brass key over in his palm, the metal catching the morning light. It was old—worn smooth at the edges, the tag faded but still legible: 127 – Midtown Bank, Atlanta. No name. No address. Just a number. Nova sat across from him at the kitchen table, her coffee going cold between her hands. "How far is that from here?" she asked, eyes never leaving the key. "About two hours," Damian said. "Maybe less."