Number Of The Stars Novels & Stories

I bet you’ve heard the story about the player that gets played. Yes, that’s me, Dylan Ashford. I am in an open relationship with my long-term girlfriend, and when I realize she is only using me for my name, I discover I am in too deep until I meet her, the girl with the brown eyes that make my world spin upside down, and believe I still have a chance of the love I always dreamed of. People see me as a Joker and a Playboy, but deep down, I am a romantic, and I need to find my own true love. Watching my big brother fall in love gave me hope. My name is Joanna Thompson, but my friends know me as Jo. I work in a security firm, and after a traumatic breakup with my ex, I am looking forward to finding my true love, but my head gets turned by the one person I absolutely despise for everything that he represents. Dylan Ashford is everything I always hated in humankind. He is cocky and a player. This book can be read as a Standalone, but for better comprehension, you should read The Big Shot first. This is book number two of The Ashford book series.

My wife's gym is celebrating its grand opening, and I drag my buddy along to check the place out with a 9.90-dollar trial class I bought through an e-commerce platform. For the entire time, I never once let it slip that I'm the owner. Right after we finish training, a male coach tosses a price sheet at us. His eyes sweep over us with contempt as he says, "You two look like freeloaders. Our private sessions cost a few hundred each, and we don't offer freebies to people like you." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "We paid for this trial class. How is that freeloading? Go get your manager." He rolls his eyes and makes it seem like he's enforcing a very important rule. "Don't bother looking for the manager. My girlfriend owns this place, and she hates broke losers who try to get free classes." He dials her number right in front of us. His voice sounds both arrogant and pitiful. "Babe, two guys showed up and tried to con us into giving them a free class. They even told me to call the manager. Come over here and show them what's what!"

On the day the male influencer patient was discharged, he posted a tearful video accusing my chaste, principled doctor wife of sexually assaulting him. In the clip, he cowered in a corner of the hospital, trembling, his clothes disheveled. With a terrified cry of "Dr. Shelby," he abruptly cut the footage. Overnight, my wife became a monster in a white coat—public enemy number one across the internet. We begged him, again and again, to come forward and clarify the truth. Instead, he posted an injury assessment report and wept about being bullied by his doctor. My wife had no way to defend herself. She was suspended pending investigation—and in the end, she leapt from the thirtieth floor. I endured humiliation and waited for the truth to surface. When it finally did, I obtained a reexamination report that proved her innocence. But by then, no one cared about the truth anymore. And I, consumed by despair, died of cancer. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day that patient was first admitted. This time, I begged my wife to take leave—I wanted to take her away from this doomed fate. But my gentle wife wrapped her arms around me, her eyes red, and said, "Don't be afraid, honey. This time… I won't run away."

I was getting married—but I didn't tell my parents. It was my fifth wedding. The last four? Total disasters, thanks to them. Every time, they claimed something was "wrong" with the wedding car and somehow scared the guy off. First was my college boyfriend. We were solid—four years strong. My parents pushed for marriage... then ditched the idea on the big day because his car wasn't "fancy" enough. Second groom? My boss. He pulled up in a shiny new car they actually approved—until they didn't. Yanked me right out. Third time, they set me up with someone themselves. The guy brought ten cars to play it safe. Didn't matter. They shut it down before I even stepped outside. Fourth time? Same story. I kept wondering—what was so cursed about these cars? Why push me to get married, only to destroy it every single time? This year, I was trying again. Wedding number five. This time, I was pregnant—with the son of the country's richest man. I didn't tell my parents. Thought I'd finally outsmarted them. But just as I was about to get in the car... I saw them sprinting toward me.

I was the company's top sales performer, but I never clocked in or out, and I rarely showed my face at the office. Two-thirds of the employees had never even met me. Yet somehow, I single-handedly dominated the sales numbers, outperforming everyone else and propelling us to the number one spot in the industry. Then came the day they handed out year-end bonuses. Jeffrey Young, the new sales director, fired me on the spot, claiming it was bad luck that I stepped into the building with my left foot first. When I demanded to know what gave him the right, he sneered at me with pure contempt. "Because I'm going to be the future owner of this company! You just got lucky landing a few big clients, and that was all thanks to the company's existing customer base anyway!" He continued, "Let me tell you something... Kieran Campbell, whoever the company gives resources to, becomes the top seller!" I could not help but laugh. All they saw was that I never clocked in, but they never saw me out there day and night, running around to maintain those client relationships. The truth was, in this industry, clients were loyal to me personally, not to the company's brand. I pulled out my phone and called my wife, Melanie Gardner. "When did you get yourself another husband behind my back?"

When I was born, the nurse handed me over to my parents, and the smiles on their faces instantly vanished. Hovering over their son's smooth head was a line of numbers that no one else could see. 6570 days. It was exactly 18 years. Not a day more, not a day less. The nurse thought they were just nervous first-time parents, but my parents knew the truth. That number was my lifespan. While everyone else in the delivery room was celebrating a new life, my parents were staring at my death. For the next 18 years, I was the most precious person in the family. No matter how poor we were, the eggs were always mine, the new clothes were always mine, and the meat was always mine. My younger sister could only look on enviously. My parents often told her, "Let your brother have it. He doesn't have much time left." I was well-behaved from a young age, never causing trouble, quietly waiting to die. On my 18th birthday, I blew out the candles and said a sincere goodbye to the world. The next day, my parents and sister, dressed in black clothes, walked into my room with swollen eyes. I rubbed my eyes, smiled at them, and said, "Good morning." The air froze. The sadness on their faces slowly turned into astonishment, then coldness.

Ethan Lewis has been in the bright lights for as long as he can remember. He’s just turned the cusp of celebrating his twenty-fourth birthday, and yet he feels more like eighty. Living the life of a celebrity isn’t all it is chalked up to be, and dealing with the unruly number of women who are more interested in his billions than who he is as a person is getting old. He has resigned himself to giving up on love and focusing on the only thing that truly gives back – his career. Riley Phillips has always dreamed of being on a big stage with the warmth of the spotlight baring down on her, but she just couldn’t seem to catch the right agent’s attention. After giving a quick commencement speech as Valedictorian of her graduating class at Billmore High, she’s offered something she can’t refuse... The chance to work in Hollywood. It’s not all it’s chalked up to be, but she works hard and finally gets her big break four years down the line. There is a new movie that her agent wants her to audition for, and her co-star? The dreamy Ethan Lewis. She scores the part, but soon regrets it due to his callous, overbearing persona. He’s nothing like the public touts, and she for one isn’t impressed. Funny enough, he is - immensely.

Abductors bind me in a basement, subjecting me to the torment of dozens. Meanwhile, my husband, Evan Foster, dines by candlelight with his lover, Carmen Locke. My abductors grant me one chance to call for help, and I dial Evan's number. I'm certain he will come for me. I believe Evan would give his life for me, as he once vowed that his future held no meaning without me. Clinging to hope, I call the number etched in my heart. However, Evan scolds me for interrupting their date. "You think I'll come get you? Dream on. Maybe I'll bother to collect your body if you die out there." His words crush me, and I do die. Five days later, Evan stands before the autopsy table, grimacing at the mangled remains before him. Even as the police department's finest forensic expert, having dissected thousands of bodies, he condemns the killer's brutality. Yet, despite his cold dismissal of my desperate plea over the phone, he now wears a look of pity. Evan, if you knew these fragments belonged to me, would you still find me worthy of your compassion?

“Any conversation we're going to be having is going to be in the four corners of my wall and after that, I'd love and appreciate it if you forgot my name, home address and social security number— if you have that, of course.” “Cute,” he laughs and then winces when I open the drink can with a pop. I raise a brow at him, urging him to continue and then take a sip of my drink as I wait patiently. “ Contrary to what you may think, I'm not here to hurt you or whatever it is you're thinking —” “No shit.” “I'm here to offer you a deal. One I know you wouldn't be able to refuse.” “Sure, Professor Xavier.” This is getting fun and it's the most fun I've had in a few days. “Marry me.” ********** I had a one night stand with a handsome, enigmatic stranger. It was drunk decision; one I promised myself never to indulge in. Putting aside my regret, I continue with life and the trials it keeps throwing my way. As a girl used to surprises, what I don't expect is seeing this stranger from months ago at my doorstep and offering me a deal I can't seem to refuse: a marriage contract in exchange for my biggest wishes to be fulfilled.

Roxanne seems to have the perfect life. Fairytale romance, doting family, a passion for the violin. The only imperfect areas of her life, like her elder brother's best friend, Florian, with whom she had shared her first kiss years ago, is carefully tucked away and paid no attention. That is until after she receives a call from an unknown number the night before her wedding. Damien, her fiance was supposedly taking some time with his friends at a country house, but after the caller prompted her to check the exclusive strip club in downtown California, Roxanne's blood runs cold. She drives all the way there, and to her greatest disappointment and heartbreak, her fears are confirmed, as the first sight to greet was her fiance and three other women all bent over. The sight is nauseating, and she could barely make her way out of the club when suddenly, Billionaire heir and her brother's best friend, Florian, appears out of nowhere. He offers to take her home, but during the drive, Roxanne changes her mind. The last thing she wants is to go home right now. The first thing on her mind was revenge, and she had the perfect person driving her. She would allow herself to use him for that one night, but was she really using him?