Novels About Money Novels & Stories

“Seriously, Book, this place is almost as old as you. Why don’t you use some of that money you used to steal and buy a nice place? Maybe one without a fucking roach infestation.” The critter unleashed a fresh memory, Zoe’s sleepy voice confessing her lie of his occupation. His stomach flipped, his throat thankful he had nothing left in his stomach to expel. Booker’s voice snapped his from his thoughts. “Listen here, kid. Money’s meant to be spent on fine women, fine whiskey and some good ol’ fashioned drugs. Why would I spent good money on a nice place? This works just fine.” Kicking the front door shut, Booker dawdled to the sofa, falling into it. It creaked almost as loudly as he did.

"How much money do they have?" Lydia revealed her money-obsessed side and could not help asking. "I'm afraid that they do not even know how much money they have." Samuel said smiled bitterly. He had always thought that money was not something very important. However, it was only now that he understood the importance of money. This was especially so when he wanted to endure some of the resistance. Money was the most direct and powerful weapon. Lydia swallowed her saliva unconsciously. She had so much money that she didn't even know what kind of feeling it was!

“Why can’t I be like the vampires in the romance novels? They’re all stinking rich. Then I’d pay off those damned loans and you wouldn’t have to worry about working unless you wanted to.” “I’m surprised that you don’t still have a few loans hanging over your head. Doctors Without Borders certainly didn’t pay enough to cover them and I can’t imagine your non-profit gives much better,” I mused and then gasped at my boldness in speaking something that I’d been thinking for months.

Each one clouded over the other until all I could see was the warm honey-brown colour. "For us in Zobel, money means nothing. We've all got too much of it to make a difference. Our currency is secrets and, believe me, that girl had a lot of them. She was drowning in them. She told me anything and everything." He lifted himself into a seating position. Crossing his legs, he leant against my wall and began clicking his fingers into place.

Whatever she was hiding was really huge. “Was her little sister really at university? Why doesn’t she come back home during school holydays? What about her parents? She doesn’t speak much about them.” Questions struck my mind as I tried to connect the dots. Who is this Charlotte and how does she make so much money? Maybe the book store is really one of the ways to launder money” I continued thinking to myself.

He is wearing the gardener's outfit. "Why are you gawking? Curious about your personal body guard?" Old man asked. "Well," I started. "I heard him asking for advance payment. Looks like he needs a lot of money. You know he is poor and...alone. Why does...he needs a lot?" "You see, Everleigh, money on your side is like papers that you can grab easily. Seems like an infinite source you have to not be in scarce. But to Raven, money is something that is so valuable. He may be have a lot of money to day, but at the end of the day, he needs those to use for his essentials. Food, rent, bills, and for saving for the sake of his future. That a lot of money will be gone in just a week, unfortunately,

“You would flounder as a poor man. The rich stay rich, and the poor can work hard to get rich. That’s the way I see it.” I nodded my head, but deep down, I didn’t feel that way at all. Money wasn’t the most important thing in life. In my opinion, it had a way of bringing out the ugliness inside people. I enjoyed having money and appreciated the peace of mind a healthy bank account provided, but it wasn’t everything. It was hard to find genuine people when their vision was clouded by money. Even Zach was driven by money. He certainly didn’t befriend those that were flat broke, and he would never date a woman that wouldn’t fit into his lifestyle.

Nothing as complicated as marriage yet, I just wanted to introduce her to my world. One day, she stormed into my suite with anger and betrayal clearly etched on her face. She was holding a magazine that had both our faces on it. It read, "Billionaire heir of the Martinez empire seen with Polish local. Looks like even Polish girls aren't immune to the beautiful art of gold-digging."

I brought my years of secret savings with me. I immediately checked my bank account on my phone, and when I saw millions in savings, I almost burst out laughing. This was pocket change for a wealthy family. But to someone like me—a working stiff scraping by on a few thousand dollars a month—it felt like a fortune from the heavens. Recalling the tragic end awaiting my character in the novel, I immediately decided to flee from the protagonists and embrace a life of carefree indulgence. To relieve the stress of my sudden death and new life, I rushed to a bar and did something I had been dreaming of for ages. I spent my money like it was nothing, even hiring ten male models to give me the royal

She looked tensed and angry. "Do you want a rightful answer or reality?" I replied, and she stood there, watching me, then crossed her hands and finally replied. "To what extent does a Holmes think money will cover his ass?" I exhaled and leaned on my desk. "Money is just a tool, a tool to whatever a Holmes desires. Money is the base we were raised in and the comfort we grow in. Its not about the luxury house, vehicles, trips or even hotels. Money is our freedom. It is a right that we obtain. Many people think money can't buy everything and they're right. Money buys sex, not love, friends but not company, marriage but not partnership. Someone like my dad took a lot of time and energy to buil