Novel Thriller Novels & Stories

Shrewsbury The Third Twin: A Dark Psychological Thriller by Darren Speegle Aletheia: A Supernatural Thriller by J.S. Breukelaar Where the Dead Go to Die by Mark Allan Gunnells and Aaron Dries Sarah Killian: Serial Killer (For Hire!) by Mark Sheldon The Final Cut by Jasper Bark Blackwater Val by William Gorman Pretty Little Dead Girls: A Novel of Murder and Whimsy by Mercedes M. Yardley Nameless: The Darkness Comes by Mercedes M. Yardley

’ The inspector crossed his legs one over another and gazed towards the ceiling. What is happening, he asked himself nervously. It was as if he was trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle in the dark. The newest aspect of this mystery was a troubling one. There was no plausible motive left for Anubhav to murder Esha. Anubhav had left a lucrative job abroad in order to be with the love of his life. Now she was ready to elope with him. Yet, that very evening they had a fight in the Bailey’s disc ... and somehow her sweater landed up in his room. The inspector punched a fist into his other hand. Nothing was making sense. The puzzle was definitely missing

Hell yes, we are. This book is your permission slip to stop overthinking. Forget logic. Forget consequences. Forget whether the logistics of that position actually make sense on a moving motorcycle. (Spoiler: they don’t. But we’re doing it anyway.) Let go. These novellas are built for pleasure. Yours. Whether you’re here for the slow burn or the instant heat, the enemies-to-lovers bickering or the sweet surrender, there’s something inside these pages to curl your toes and leave your pulse a little faster than it was before.

He obviously loved thrillers as most of the books were made up with novels by Ian Fleming, Desmond Bagley, Hammond Innes, Ian Rankin, Michael Robotham and Alistair MacLean. My mobile sounded and I moved out on to the landing. Caller ID: Kimberley. “Hello, darling,” I said into the phone. “I need a drink,” she explained. “Bad morning?” “Ever since that break-in you investigated, Bio-Preparations insist on having an audit every month,” she said breathlessly. “Why have they got to have it on a bloody Saturday?” “You poor thing,” I said soothingly, feeling partially responsible. “So how about the Waggoner’s Rest?” She persisted. “I’ve just arrived back at the quay.”

The resemblance between Damon and Kellan played tricks on my fragile emotions. Pushing the thoughts aside, I decided to get some water. A dark silhouette caught my eye as I stepped out of my room, moving stealthily in the dim hallway. A chilling wave of fear gripped me. Could it be the assassin returning to finish the job? My heart raced as I gulped down my rising panic.

If the pack’s bargains were steeped in such dark dealings, then Lena’s every move was a dance on the edge of a blade. Sleep became a battleground where fragmented shadows clawed at her resolve. Faces morphed into specters of betrayal; the whisper of voices carried warnings and threats in the night air. Yet, through the haze of fear, a steady resolve burned within her. Every secret uncovered, every hidden motive revealed, only sharpened her need to survive - and to unravel the twisted web that held the Rathbone estate captive. Lena knew she was no longer just a visitor in this world. She was a piece in a dangerous game, one that demanded cunning, strength, and an unyielding will to break free

A playful wink flickered in his eye, hinting at tantalizing mysteries yet to unfold, before he melted into darkness, leaving Dynasty engulfed in a tantalizing anticipation. Her heart thundered violently in her chest, a vivid reminder of the night’s tumult as she watched the crowd begin to scatter, people fleeing in all directions to escape the building. Finally, steeling herself, she cautiously approached the nearest elevator, seeking refuge while her mind whirled with thoughts of the enigmatic Victor, his identity and intentions cloaked in an alluring shroud of mystery.

“Come on. I’ll take you upstairs to rest.” He stood and guided her toward the stairs. Finn and Calvin exchanged a look. Then they followed right after them. God, I wanted to go eavesdrop so badly. Linda, sitting beside me, muttered under her breath, “Slutty bitch.” That jogged my memory. There was a drugging subplot around this part of the story. If I remembered correctly, Linda was the culprit. She had been secretly in love with Calvin for years, but Calvin only had eyes for Nancy. In the original novel, she managed to drug him, but afterward he turned the tables and dosed her ten times worse, leaving her stranded with no help. She ended up with a terrible fate.

MILO’s POV The cold bit into my knuckles as I stepped onto the rusted metal grating of the old industrial bridge. The wind off the river carried diesel and decay. Then the shot cracked through the night—sharp, deliberate. Bang. My stomach lurched. Please not yet. Not him. I moved faster, boots silent on the concrete, following the faint smear of sodium lights toward the derelict storage warehouse tacked onto the far pier. The side door hung half off its hinges. I slipped inside.

A new file began downloading against her blocks, labeled simply: *Lena, Final Trigger*. Lena stared at the filename, her face draining of color. Whatever memory IZO44 planned to use against her, it was coming. Outside the cabin, the forest remained unnaturally quiet. The Memory Thief was no longer content to observe. It had begun to steal their souls, one devastating recollection at a time. The cabin fell into a stunned hush after Marcus’s hallucination. He sat on the edge of the cot, elbows on his knees, breathing slowly as Lena knelt in front of him. Her hands remained on his face, thumbs gently brushing away the sweat on his temples.