Novel In Stories Novels & Stories

Ch-1 --------------------- [Warning: this story is in the 'incest' category. As a result, the mother and son in this tale might have a relationship which you might find unsettling. At the end, when they kiss each other goodnight, neither of them has to go to another bedroom. The father already sleeps there.]

To my new readers, if you want to read my other stories, below are all my books on Goodnovel: Lucas' Story: Gone Too Long, The CEO Becomes A World-Class Doting Husband The Wright Family Series: Mommy, Where Is Daddy? The Forsaken Daughter's Return (*) Flash Marriage: A Billionaire For A Rebound I Kissed A CEO And He Liked It (*) The Devil's Love For The Heiress I Fell For A Boy His Daddy Was A Bonus (*) I placed an (*) on the books with the most reads or my bestsellers. Each book is a standalone. You can skip any books as you see fit.

she said. “I thought that it wouldn’t be as busy as it was in San Francisco but its crazy busy as well. I think people in this country care more about political drama than anything else. Eighty-nine percent of the news content is just politics, politics, politics. I am yet to decide if that’s a good thing or not….” “How about your co-workers,were they friendly?” Her mother asked. “Yes, everyone was friendly,” She lied. Natasha knew that telling her mother about the antagonistic and villain-like Luyando would only make her have unnecessary worries. “I know it’s just the first day but I think people aren’t as scheming as they were back home.”

“The novel’s title is Shocking Shocked, and it tells the story of a guy who was electrocuted after disclosing shocking news?” I bit the bottom of my lip. “Well... It’s one of my favorite novels.” She slapped herself across the forehead. “Dainty! We should not read novels like these. I assumed you were interested in romantic novels, so I let you read books, and then I’ll know that you’re reading about terror and murder novels?!” My mouth was closed. What can I do if I’m not a fan of romance novels? Horror, mystery, and psychological stories are my favorite, and not romance. When I read a romantic novel, my whole body convulses. They simply do not appeal to me.

A man hit by a car in New York in 1977 got up uninjured, but lay back down in front of the car when a bystander told him to pretend he was hurt so he could collect the insurance money. The car then rolled forward and crushed him I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

I was definitely putting the cart before the horse. As soon as I dropped Charlie off at Middle School Wednesday morning I headed home. My heart was already beating a little faster thinking about lunchtime. Sandy was coming over! I'll admit I didn't get a lot done on what I was working on, although it was definitely better than that horrid manual had been. This was an anthology of short stories from an independent publishing house that I'd worked for before, with all the authors under twenty-four years old. The clock seemingly was moving at a glacial pace, but eventually my phone chimed.

Maya responded with laughing emojis and a short spill it. Jade hesitated for a heartbeat. It started as a joke between them. Jade would describe the things she imagined Nathan doing to her when no one else was around. Sometimes it was just whispers. Other times it was shameful confessions typed into her phone at 2 a.m. She bit her lip, then began to type without stopping, fingers racing like they had a mind of their own.

Until now, strange short stories had only very short stories. But from volume two I intend to add stories that have 10 to 20 captains as well. These stories are not so long nor have so much visibility as a separated book. For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes.

The silence made my thighs clench. "What kind of dreams?" he asked, still calm. "I shouldn't say." "You came here to let it out," he answered simply. I held in my breathing. "They're... sexual. I wake up soaked. Aching. And ashamed." "Go on." I let my head rest against the wooden panel behind me. My eyes closed. "He touches me in ways no one ever has. And I let him. I want it. God, I want it so bad." The words spilled out, broken and messy. "Sometimes it's in public. Sometimes I'm tied down. Sometimes he just whispers in my ear and I'm already falling apart. I wake up wet, panting, and I can't stop thinking about it for days."

You’re here to work. Inside the lighthouse the air smelled like coffee and woodsmoke and salt. He showed her the guest room — small, clean, a narrow bed with a window facing the open water. A shelf of books above it. She noticed that. Real books. Varied. Not what she expected from a man who’d chosen this kind of solitude. He told her the basic rules. Short sentences. No wasted words. She asked questions anyway, recorder ready in her hand. “Not yet,” he said when she lifted it.