Novel & Cerita Neighbor Flirting

Ryder is back in town to deal with his deceased father's will, and he's not the boy he'd been when he'd left. He's a man now, a scarred and bittered one with a plan to revenge the dirt that had been done to him by his late father's friends when he'd been younger. And he knew exactly where to start! Everything in Bree's life is suddenly crashing to nothing. From finding her boyfriend in bed with her long legged blonde neighbor, to having him disappear with all her life's savings. Her only chance of survival now, is the stranger at the bar with a deal she can't refuse. If only she'd known she was only a pawn in the CEO's revenge scheme...... Do you think these hearts might learn to love each other? What happens when secrets starts being revealed?

“Landon is here?” Mabel asked, turning to look behind her, a frown forming on her face. “Are you stalking me? Huh?” She asked drunkenly and made to climb down from the stool, but she missed her footing and fell toward Landon who instinctively caught her in his arms. Upon realizing what he had done, Landon suddenly pushed her away from his body like he had touched a bag of filth, making her fall to the ground on her butt. “Ouch!” She winced as her butt came in contact with the hard floor. Landon felt a pang of pity for her but quickly masked it. Such a shameless woman isn't worth his sympathy. She was married, yet she was drunk at a bar, flirting with a random guy. ******* What happens if your wedding was never about love but about settling an old score? Mabel never wanted an arranged marriage, but honoring her father’s dying wish left her no choice. On her wedding day, her groom, Landon Ferguson, didn’t bother to show up only sending someone in his place. Humiliated and furious, she swore never to forgive him. As the truth behind their arranged marriage comes to light, Mabel realizes too late some debts demand more than just a name on a marriage certificate. Some demand a sacrifice.

Everyone says that Eric Winslowe, the Alpha of Kalmoor Pack, loves me to the bone. He learns sign language for me because I can't hear, and he prepares to throw me a grand wedding after I thoroughly fall for him. However, after I regain my hearing, I catch him flirting and being intimate with Camilla Johnson, his maid. They're just in the room next to mine. During a banquet, he even takes advantage of my lack of hearing to brag. "She's just a pet that I have to alleviate the boredom. Alison is the only one I love. Still, I know she'll leave me if she finds out about this. "Thank God Alison can't hear. I won't let her find out about this even after we're married. Watch your mouths, everyone. Don't blame me for getting nasty if any of you bring this up to Alison." I sneer to myself. I want to tell him that he doesn't need to fear others exposing his cheating—I already know. He also doesn't need to look forward to our wedding because all that awaits him on that day is a corpse that looks just like me.

In a drought-ravaged apocalypse, I kept our entire apartment block alive with my “watermaker” ability. But when I grew weak, my neighbors shattered my limbs and turned me into a living water source. Later, when raiders stormed in, they dragged me out to take the blade for them, only to realize that even my severed arms could still produce water. So, they shouted about “saving humanity,” then shoved me into the crowd and fled in the chaos. People rushed forward one after another, tearing at my flesh. But I didn’t die. What was left of me fell into the hands of a monster, and I was subjected to inhuman torment day after day. Ten years later, when the apocalypse finally ended, that monster tossed me into an incinerator. Only then did I die. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment I first awakened my ability, just as my neighbor knocked on the door, begging for water.

She is Nasha Atlas, the first of her name; optimistic laced with beauty and brains. Getting admission into the University of Cambridge, to study her dream course, was her greatest desire; it came cos whatever she desires, she gets. But how did she feel when her boyfriend who she wants to share in her joy, betrays her by sleeping with another woman? Would she breathe fresh air when she became a prime suspect in the murder of her new neighbor? Would George Powers: a strict officer et billionaire be able to find out who the culprit is when he fell in love with the suspect and make love to her at a supposed investigatory dinner night? And amid the many deaths, would his prowess as a detective be proven? What happens when Nasha's ex-billionaire lover keeps coming back when she already has a new love life? Would she revenge or accept him back?

"I'll find you, even in an ant hole, Ericka. Just watch! You won't be able to escape me forever. I'll make you pay for this!" Ericka, a woman fleeing an abusive relationship, rents an apartment on the 27th floor of an old apartment building, thinking she'll be safe. She doesn't know that her only neighbor on that floor is Liam, a werewolf who locks himself away every full moon to prevent himself from killing humans. Their meeting isn't a story of instant love, but rather the meeting of two damaged souls seeking safety in their own ways. Ericka, traumatized by human violence. Liam, traumatized by the monster inside him. Who knows what will happen. Or who will die? "You can stay. I won't touch you. I won't ask you to trust me, but I'll do my best to keep you safe." "Good. I can't trust anyone either."

My Valenese neighbor dressed like a temptress—curves in all the right places, a delicate body topped with a pair of full, heavy breasts. Her name was Ayame. When she came by that evening to ask my husband to fix her computer, I heard the unmistakable sounds of pleasure drifting from the other room. "Wanna try my new tongue stud? Consider it your payment for the repair." Then came my husband's moans of pure, shameless delight. I couldn't help but feel jealous. It had been so long since he'd sounded that happy with me. As I listened, my hand slid slowly beneath the waistband of my pants. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. I'd heard that Ayame's husband had a full ring of piercings down below. I'd been craving a taste for ages. If Ayame could seduce my husband, then I'd take my own turn sampling those piercings.

Our third anniversary trip to Hawaii was supposed to be a new beginning—just me, Tom, and our son. But then she showed up. Blair. Our single, sexy neighbor with a killer smile and a suitcase full of charm. I thought she was just tagging along. I was wrong. One night, I overheard her hiss, “Why the hell didn’t you just let her die?” That’s when it hit me—Blair wasn’t just having an affair with my husband. She had planned to let me drown in the tsunami. I survived. But I kept quiet. I decided to play dumb—to smile, to act fragile, to stay close—for my son’s sake. I needed to know what they really wanted… and how far they’d go. Then, on my son Noah’s birthday, he made a wish. “I want Aunty Blair to be my new mommy.” The candles flickered. My heart cracked. Had Blair already replaced me?

Herbie was subconsciously self-sabotaging his relationship with every famous, beautiful, successful girl he's been with. When the relationship seemed to be going well, he'd find one little detail that would be enough reason to break-up. It could be that she's too clingy or too busy, to the trivial ones like having long fingernails or having eyes that are too big or too small. That's because in that tiny little space in his heart he kept a secret. He's got this huge crush on his next-door neighbor for what seems like forever. For ten years they were neighbors, for ten years he was content just stealing glances. Not that he didn't know her. She's his ex-girlfriend's sister! On their tenth year as neighbors, he got elected as President and CEO of a multinational corporation at only 36 years old. He didn't want to move apartments but duty called.

I went to exactly one party in my new, wealthy neighborhood. Then my neighbor Brenda sued me. In court, she held her bruised and battered daughter, Tiffany. She accused my son of rape. Mid-hearing, Tiffany tugged her collar down. Red marks circled her neck. "He tried to rip my pants off," she sobbed. "He tried to force himself on me. I fought back. So he beat me. He ruined my face!" Outside the courthouse, protesters held up signs, calling my son a piece of trash, a spoiled rich kid. Online, a photoshopped memorial of me went viral. The caption read: The unfit mother should die with her son. My company’s stock plummeted. But I just sat there. Stone-faced. I asked for my son, Cooper, to be brought in. The courtroom doors opened. Cooper walked in. Everyone froze.