Nick Land Book Novels & Stories

Although he was quiet at first,he opened up a little later on. Devan is the wild child. He is the one that smokes and is covered in tattoos. He jumps from girl to girl every week or so. He never liked obeying the rules but he has no choice but to do so. He calls it the disadvantage of being bestfriends with the future Alpha. Kendrick is the joker. He likes pulling pranks and causing chaos everywhere he goes. He is funny as hell and he does not give a damn about what people think.

"I’m fine." I stopped in front of the desk. "What are you reading?" I asked. Nico placed his hand on the cover of the book. "The Ledger," he said. My stomach twisted, the Ledger, the book of debts. The reason I was here and the reason my father was gone. Nico noticed my reaction, he picked up the book and held it out to me. "Open it." I hesitated. "Nico..." "Open it, Elena." I reached out and took the heavy book.

he asked in concern. Nicky Peters, aka Nicholas Greene. Before meeting my other Dad, Nicky was a baseball player for the Colorado Spring Sox and one of the best. He told me his Dad made him play to be a man, but all my Dad wanted to do was make colorful clothing and make-up. He played baseball until he was in high school, but during that time, he joined beauty pageants when he finally came out. His Dad was unhappy once he found all the dresses and costumes and kicked him out.

Competence, she learned, was its own narcotic. When the espresso cooled and the study lamps took over the sun’s job, the lesson shifted to people. Lenny dragged a leather-bound book from the drawer and opened it like a priest revealing relics. Names and notes, not just debts: a bastard child’s birthday, a father’s surgery, a wife’s second attempt at sobriety. Tiny biographies of leverage and loyalty. Margins wore small griefs in pencil; some lines had been pressed hard enough to cut the paper.

That counts for something, right? My name is Annalise McDermott. And for the record, I am a nerd. A hopeless romantic. A person who believes in love even when it clearly hates me back. This is my playbook, a chronicle of terrible timing, questionable decisions, and the kind of love that shows up when you least expect it, usually right after you've sworn you’re never falling in love again. So here is a little friendly advice: do not follow my advice. At least not until the very end.

Nick: But you're not coming back yet. Emma: Not yet. Nick: I know. I just needed to say it. Emma: Say it as many times as you need. Nick: I miss you. Emma: I miss you too. Nick: I miss you. Emma: I know. Nick: I'll let you go. Read your book. Become a person. Emma: Nick? Nick: Yes? Emma: Thank you. For waiting. Nick: There's nowhere else I'd rather be. Emma put down her phone. She opened the book. She read until the sun went down.

Nick responded, glaring at her sister, who was trying to pipe in the convo. "Bring her home," Nathaniel said and hung up, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took another glass when he heard the hunk of a car. He rushed to the window and saw his friend's car. He ran upstairs to his room, changing his casual clothes while running his fingers through them before descending downstairs to meet his wife. ~**~ Please do vote, comment, and share <3 I'm trying to edit this book to my understanding, before I hire a professional editor.

Police lights strobed small and insistent at the marina, a string of ants around a spill of sugar. Nick thought about the dream again—the black jet, the faces he loved going under—and tasted pennies. He forced breath in and out, in and out, like counting burns in a set. His phone buzzed yet again. He didn’t look. He couldn’t. Rachel did. “It’s Frank,” she said. “He says he’s got… books.” She made a face. “And holy water.” “Fantastic,” Nick said, dry enough to crack. “Maybe we can baptise the fucking ocean.”

With sad puppy eyes and soft reminders like, “You left me for five years, you owe me.” So here we were. In the library. In the farthest, dustiest corner, where the silence was thick and the presence of other humans was a rare phenomenon. The table was cracked slightly in the corner, the air smelled faintly of old pages and carpet cleaner, and the only sound was the occasional soft thud of books being closed somewhere far off. I was just about to crack open the textbook when Nick leaned forward, rested his arms on the table, and said— “So. Explain.”

Thirteen years later... Helena's POV "Read a book Nickolas." I snatched the TV remote to switch off the addiction that has plagued him all summer. I dropped the book I have in mind on his lap. I took a seat right next to him. I'm in awe at the speed at which he's growing at. It's not just his body but his mind. He's sharp. Nothing gets past him. Nothing is acceptable to him without a thorough explanation. "This is older than the dinosaurs." He chuckled. "The pages are taped together. Just get some publisher to remake this. You can afford it."