Off The Clock Book Novels & Stories

She wasn’t trying to be a tease. When the clock finally struck three, I closed up my computer and headed for the door. I was almost free when our VP, Greyson called out to me. “Hey Phoenix! We are going down to the Cashbox for a drink. You coming?” “Can’t tonight!” I waived them off. “We’ve got company at the house. I’ll catch you next time!” It was almost true. I couldn’t really consider my dad's live-in girlfriend as company. I also couldn't tell my friends that I was more interested in spending the afternoon with my almost-stepsister than I was in sipping a few beers with them.

(Fast paced) The clock on the wall of Dr. Sean Houston office ticked past 9:30 PM, its steady rhythm the only sound breaking the heavy silence of the empty literature department. The prestigious Goldbay University campus outside was slick with rain, the kind of relentless downpour that turned the quad into a mirror of black sky and golden lamplight.

Somehow, he looked more approachable. Only then did I notice the clock on the wall. "You're off work already?" "It's five-fifteen. Which means I've been off for fifteen minutes." He gave me a look, his tone clipped. "In other words, you've been sitting here in a daze for a solid fifteen minutes." I blinked dumbly at him. My first thought was, 'So even top students watch the clock to punch out right on time?' And just like that, I realized, we actually did have something in common after all.

Everyone would change into their combat uniforms after the briefing and gear up to deal with whatever this problem turned out to be. Dave nodded a greeting to everyone in the room. “Man, I was in the middle of lunch when I got the call. Had to leave half of a perfectly good steak on the table and cut my date short with my girl.” “Count yourself lucky. Knight and I didn’t even make it to lunch,” Rina said. “Did Rachel get recalled as well?” Knight asked. Dave shook his head. “Nah. It’s her day off. She’ll probably come in anyway though.”

"The hotel is in Manhattan. Whatever you choose needs to feel like the city without being a postcard of it." "Specific but not literal." "Exactly." I wrote it down. He went back to his screen. This was the strange domesticity of the situation. We were married, living together, navigating a stalker and a board meeting and a business rival, and somehow we'd also just had a productive design conversation over cold coffee on a Sunday morning. At noon his phone rang. He looked at the screen and something in his face closed off. "Thomas," he said. "You should take it."

THEO’S POV: The clock on my desk read 7:43 p.m. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Claire had gone to the record room to fetch some old experimental data files almost thirty minutes ago, and she still wasn’t back. That wasn’t like her. Claire was the kind of woman who did things fast, neat, and precise — like a perfect equation. I checked my phone. Still nothing. “Maybe she got distracted,” I muttered, picking up my coffee mug. But even as I said it, something didn’t feel right. My wolf stirred uneasily inside me — urging me to go look for her.

As the family's Chief Counsel, I busted my ass for four years. When the family's new rackets launched, my promised twenty-five percent cut was slashed to three. Christian, the Don, patted my shoulder. "It's all for the family." I didn't cause a scene. From the next day on, I clocked in on time, clocked out on time, and refused to do a single thing outside my contract. Two weeks later, the family's core rackets ground to a halt. Our partners threatened a turf war. Christian cornered me at my desk. His eyes were bloodshot. "Vittoria, what exactly do you want?" I glanced at my watch. It was five thirty. "Christian, I'm off the clock."

“Fuck! What the hell am I going to do? I could just squat with Emma, but fuck, I hate being a burden. I just have to find a way out.” Her gaze dropped to the clock that hung beside the television. Shit! It was eleven a.m. She was going to the firm, but sadly, not to work. She was going to the firm to pack her belongings.

Cassia stared at the clock on the wall as it struck midnight, her palms slick with nervous sweat. The card in her pocket was a constant reminder of what was coming. Room 7. Midnight. Live demonstration. The words had burned into her skin since the moment he handed it to her.

As was the section on "Strategic Alliances: Knowing Who to Trust and Who to Watch." Finally, I glanced at the antique clock on the desk and realized with a start that nearly an hour had passed. I needed to get ready. I closed the book carefully and returned it to its place on the shelf. As I turned to leave, my eyes caught on another book, this one was slim and bound in white leather: "The Luna's Gift: Understanding Your True Power." I pulled it from the shelf, but when I opened it, the pages were blank. Completely blank, as if the book had never been written in or the ink had somehow faded entirely.