Novelist Cross Novels & Stories

But as he was about to finally turn completely around, I notice that little smirk on his face and I swear, wanted to pull out his hair whenever I have the chance to. “Nothing hard. Just Authors mentioned in the book I told you to read.” With a nodding head, I spent few seconds to organize my thoughts and to clear any distractions inside my mind and become someone who I really was when it comes to academics. I cleared my throat first before I started to speak. “I am dropping an American novelist, short-story writer, journalist, and sportsman, Mister.” I answered. “Okay, who is that person?”

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“What you did today… that was brave of you.” I blink, turning my head toward him. “Thank you for acknowledging that.” A small smirk plays on his lips. “I saw that brave Viola I used to know.” I smile a little. Silence stretches between us again. Then, after a long pause, Logan asks, “What you said to Cameron… about being a writer. Is that true?” My throat tightens. Nobody knows the truth. Nobody knows that I’m Shortstuff001, the anonymous author of Who Was I Before You?—one of the most popular web novels.

"Quentin will sneak back today. Would you like to come with me to the airport to pick him up?" "Quentin?" The name struck a chord of familiarity, echoing the male protagonist from my harem novel. "Quentin Bennett? The famous star Quentin Bennett?" "Yes," the woman gently touched my forehead. "No fever." I possessed an unusually high level of acceptance. Blinking, I realized I must have transmigrated. So, the reason that awful book was covering my face when I died served a purpose! Before my demise, I had been telling Randy that I would sue Quentin Bennett for bigamy!

When I got back on my feet, I fixed my gaze on the floor. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Sky snatched my novel, glanced at the cover, then showed it to his friends. “Oh, look! It's a romance novel,” Josh snickered, and they laughed heartily. They've got a lot of nerve! “Give it back,” I said softly. Oh shit! That didn't come out as planned. I was supposed to sound fierce, like a Mafia boss lady. I'm sure what they heard was just a stupid goat bleating.

Then she picked up her phone, and scrolled, scrolled and scrolled. Then stopped. “Business mogul and billionaire tycoon Jasper Moretti found dead in abandoned house” the headline of the news read. Her heart skipped. "Is this one of Ethan's friends?" She asked herself. “Might be a coincidence. Maybe a name sake.” She dropped the phone and took up the book once more. Flipping more pages even though her head screamed not to. She flipped once then stopped, and flipped it back. Her heart dropped. "Nolan Cross.” Boldly written in black ink, different from the others.

And then— “Mr. Cross, what about the woman seen leaving your home this morning? Can you comment on her identity?” Time slowed. Nathan didn’t blink. “Lana Reyes is my girlfriend.” The lounge exploded. Gasps. Screams. Olivia’s tray clattered to the floor. But Nathan wasn’t finished. Another reporter pushed, “Are you settling down, Mr. Cross?” His lips curved, not into one of his usual icy smirks—but something softer. Real. “I would be lucky if Miss Reyes would have me,” he said. “But I haven’t asked her… yet.”

There was no new mail but had a history of their last conversation. Isabella sighed and then searched for the book as she was not satisfied with the result in the morning. But she got the same information. However, her eyes stumbled upon a certain cross-marked area. When she opened it, there was an article she found about the book which was written by st. cole, a writer who committed suicide the next day.