Novel Convenience Crossword Novels & Stories

Lucy and Abraham, both in their late fifties, found solace in the joy their son brought into their lives. Meadowbrook had grown alongside its residents, adapting to the changing times. The old bookstore, once a haven for Christiana, was now a thriving hub for readers and writers alike. The town square, once a quaint gathering place, now hosted vibrant farmers' markets and cultural festivals that celebrated diversity and unity. As the summer sun bathed the town in warmth, the families gathered at the familiar wooden table in Christiana and Tiger's garden. The aroma of freshly baked apple pie wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and animated conversations.

"Actually no. I was just doing the crossword, but I'm stuck." "What's the clue?" "Eleven letters. The hand of freedom. M, something, n and eight somethings." "Can I get you something, sir?" "Gin and tonic, and whatever Mitch is drinking.... Manumission." She frowns. "What?" "The hand of freedom. Manumission." ***** It's so good.

He extended a sleek, black business card toward me. I hesitated, then took it, tucking it into my bag without looking at it. Later, I went grocery shopping. Ever since my grandmother’s hospitalization, I hadn’t been able to stand living alone, so I moved in with Emily. The grocery store buzzed with life—women chatting over fresh produce, carts squeaking against the tiled floor. The scent of ripe tomatoes and crushed herbs filled the air, but I barely noticed. I picked up a cart and wheeled it toward the vegetable section, my mind still reeling.

Lucas teased me continually. "Get back to work you two," I said jokingly. I hadn't let myself go. After work and with Ronald always being by Mary's side, I had a lot of free time on my hands. I spent those times in the gym when I have to or in the library I had installed secretly in my new home. It was the only place Josephine couldn't find me in when she wanted to steal my money so she could buy all the Prada handbags and Balenciaga sunglasses she wanted. She was becoming quite the social media influencer and I was happy for her.

The late afternoon sun streamed through the wide windows of the sitting room, casting a golden hue over the plush furniture. It was a saturday. Nova sat comfortably in one of the armchairs, her legs curled up beneath her as she immersed herself in a thick book. The room was silent save for the soft rustle of pages turning and the chewing sounds she made as she ate some popcorn. Nova was deeply engrossed in her reading, a non-fiction book on business strategies that she had picked up on a whim.

Wrote something in her crossword. "Eight letters," she said. "The specific courage required to say the uncomfortable thing." Cara hung up her coat. "Honestly," she said. Her mother filled it in. "Yes," she said quietly. "That is exactly it."

~ Megan “What are you talking about?” I asked Celene, confusion etched so deep it reached my skull. “You haven’t seen it?” Celene asked, increasing my anxiety and confusion. “Just tell me what is going on, Celene?” I said impatiently, my tone rising. “Check your phone; I sent it to you,” Celene said. Dread filled my insides as I read through the article Celene sent. It contained details like the date, time, and location of where Celene’s abortion took place, but instead of Celene’s name, mine was written in bold prints.

I don't know how I managed to get through the rest of the day or how I got home but when did, I skipped dinner and went straight to bed. Wednesday and Thursday I managed to evade the newbie, I only went in minutes after the bell rang, wrote whatever I could and quickly disappeared into the girl’s bathroom. Afraid that the crazy guy may decide to wait it out, I spent 2 hours every day in there doing nothing except reading harlequin books. And believe it or not, I may have grabbed them from Ariana's shelf. Everyone would have gone home by the time I came out of hiding and it worked so well that I stuck to it on Friday as well.

“How convenient.” ©COPYRIGHT 2025/ T. MURPHY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Next was Chris’ birthdate. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath as the red light flashed again, leaving me with one more attempt before I needed to run. 01172001 The door popped open, and I stood frozen for a brief moment, shocked that my birthday was the date that he chose as his code. My eyes zeroed in on what lay inside the safe. Beside a large stack of money, sat three orange bottles. The labels on the bottles were hand made. Aconite. Why does that sound so familiar?