Off The Clock Book Novels & Stories

“Have a good night, Char. I’m heading home now.” “See you on Monday!” “Lock the door on your way out, please,” I reminded her. “Got it, Boss.” In fifteen minutes, I’d already reached my car and was on my way to the busy street of New York. Frankly, I hadn’t had a date in a really long time. I thought it was because I was just too busy that I barely had any spare time. I was a single mother and a small-business owner. I had no time during weekdays and on the weekend, I spent all forty-eight hours with Sev to make up the hours he’d had to spend in daycare whenever I’d had a venue to tend.

She says with a hint of sorrow in her voice. "Maybe," He grunted. "Bottom of the food chain. That’s what others call Omegas." She uttered in sorrow. Velmont did not respond; he took one of the books and helped her with the research. Minutes, hours, then almost half the day goes by, and still nothing. The duo finally called it a day when the clock reached ten in the evening. They started arranging the books back on the shelves when suddenly Gertrude noticed a book neatly stuffed at the back of the bookcase. She took it, "Book of Offerings 1321." She murmured. Velmont, on the other hand, continued arranging the books back.

“Skye, can I have a word with you?” Furrowing her brows, Arabella stepped out in front of me. “Mr. Suede, we are currently on the clock. Ms. Simms can’t possibly make the time.” Patrick looked at me, his eyes welling up. “Five minutes is all I’m asking for.” All eyes were on us. Letting out a sigh, I nodded at Arabella. “It’s okay. It’s just five minutes.” It was windy on the terrace of the convention center.

Callie The clock read 1:47 AM. I’d been tossing and turning for hours, my thoughts a mess of heat and memory and the way Grayson Carter had looked at me earlier, like he was trying not to look at all. I gave up on sleep and slipped downstairs, sketchbook under my arm, phone in the other. The house was dark and silent, the kind of quietness that settles deep in your bones. The only light came from the dim undercabinet glow in the kitchen.

Murphy backed off quietly, sliding behind the bush quickly, as she pulled the parchments out of her bag quietly, the gleam was a dim one, and the words started to dissolve again. This time the date mentioned was not any older, it was the same one, there was some instruction written on those pages, Tick tock goes the clock, unmuzzled. It takes longer to go around to 12 Slow and steady, with careful gait, Turn back the clock to face our fears, To know from where did they start ticking. Look deep in the soul for the answers you seek, To radicate, locate it completely. To know from where does it bleed. So, tick tock goes the clock.

I lay Topaz down inside her litter box and went on to arrange her cage, clean it out, change the mat and replace her feeds, some nice pellets and dried shrubs, this animal would make me bankrupt soon. I had to make everything in my room chew proof else Topaz would have bitten and chewed all my favorite books, yeah I don't offer literature but I do love and read their recommended novels; pride and prejudice, Wuthering heights, castle of Otranto, Othello, I was a fan of old school works, heck a part of my room was a 1990s shrine. I let Topaz hop out of the litter box so I could empty it, I tied the waste up in a black trash bag and headed downstairs. I closed my eyes and inhaled briefly as the

Their eyes kept darting to the digital clock in the corner of the screen as though sheer willpower could make it move faster. Malik checked his phone. “How is it only 11:41? That’s illegal.” “Time doesn’t speed up because you glare at it,” Denise replied, settling more comfortably into the couch. Ava leaned back on her hands, restless. “I don’t trust clocks. They stall on purpose.” “You two need hobbies,” Dominic murmured. “We have hobbies,” Malik protested. “We’re festive.”

Clara sat at a reception desk, her auburn hair pulled back in a severe bun, answering a phone that never stopped ringing. They didn't look at each other. They didn't know each other. The boy stood in the corner, his small suit perfectly tailored, his bronze eyes watching the Reader. "Chapter 159: The Clock-In," the boy whispered. He tapped his watch. It wasn't an hourglass. It was a Countdown. "You have ten seconds to accept the new Terms of Service, Architect. If you don't... I’ll have to Delete the Archive of every chapter you’ve ever loved. All 158 of them. Erased. Like they never happened."

Chapter 1: The Wrong Door The clock on Elena's laptop was 11:47 p.m. when the lights in the thirty-second-floor office flickered uncertainly before dying completely. It was nothing unusual at times for the ancient building that housed half a dozen law firms and three investment banks. The emergency generators were definitely bound to kick in any second, but Elena still sighed in disappointment as she saved her forensic audit file on the offshore shell companies and closed the laptop.