Oliver Twist Audiobook Novels & Stories

“I’ll explain.” Oliver stormed home, pissed off, starving, and with the urge to deck someone. He shoved the door open, and the smell hit him, pancakes? He headed straight for the kitchen. Olivia was twirling around, probably lost in her headphones, scrubbing dishes like she was in a music video. Her hips were swaying, and Oliver couldn’t resist. He tapped her shoulder. She spun around, let out a shriek, and whipped him square in the face with a sopping wet sponge. “What” she yelled, pulling out an earbud.

Eleanor's eyes locked onto Lucas, tears spilling with rapid velocity as she struggled to stand right, her head throbbing and her body felt weak. But none of that matters because she had to find her sons "What do you mean the twins are missing?" he asked her, his voice laced with confusion. As she watched him drop the fry pan he was holding, gently removing his apron and gesturing for the maids in the kitchen to exit “And why are you up and about”

He planned on making Liam taste first hand how it feels to be at the bottom of the food chain. To make him watch as he slowly takes everything Liam ever cared about. An evil grin crept on his face at the thought of that. “Today started off pretty well” he mumbled and stood up from the seat he occupied and trailed over to where the bottle of whisky sat and pulled open the cap and poured himself a glance, before throwing two cubes of ice into it. The door opened and Thomas walked in, clad in a black suit that matched his ebony black hair. “Sir, he left the mansion in fear like you said; and he doubled his security” Thomas reported curtly.

He mused and only when the knife cluttered to the ground, I took a breath, but that was short lived as he twisted his hand in my hair and connected our mouths together. I gasped and he used it as an opportunity to plunge his tongue inside my mouth. I moaned in protest, but he didn't let go of my wrists. Spicy peppermint. That's what he tasted like. I wanted none of it. He acted like a king claiming his ownership on an untouched land. He was conquering my mouth. Dominating it. When he finally let go, we were both panting. His eyes focused on my lips and slowly drifted down to my breasts. He adjusted himself in front of me and I heard the click of a lock. I didn't think twice before going out

The hand over her mouth was large, calloused, but somehow gentle. She thrashed once, instinct more than thought, but he pressed closer, chest to her back, his breath warm against her ear. “Shhh, principessa,” a low voice murmured, sending shivers down her spine “Scream and you’ll draw every guard in this place. And I promise you… I’m faster than they are.” The accent was unmistakably Italian — rich and undoubtedly dangerous. Not likr the polished American lilt of Alex Valenti. This was darker, hungrier, the kind of voice that commands attention at every single word.

" She said with a brilliant smile. Davis moved forward, his typical grace slipping just a little as he fixed his eyes on Sharon. And he quickly looked away something seemed familiar about her. Isabella gestured to her parents, " Davis, these are Mary and Peter, my parents.” She added. Davis stretched out his hand to shake them, and he said, "Lovely to meet you." And here is Sharon, my sister, Isabella said. Davis turned to Sharon, his face unreadable "Sharon," he continued, his voice faint now. "Davis," Sharon said, trying a forced smile. " You two already know each other? Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, Isabella asked.

My eyelashes hit my cheek, and I attempt not to consider anything. Amazing, this is hard. Quiet rules as I feel the dainty pieces of turf, as jumpy as a hare. "You smell at this," Oliver chuckles, standing up, "I could feel you wriggling around like a worm." Yet again I keep on resting, attempting to concentrate without the alluring Asian close by. All I can see is dark. What occurs after this? What do I do? I start to recall Oliver's story, and out of nowhere my brain glimmers to the Shifter in the chateau. The little fellow with eyes of fire. Satan underneath the skin.

“Oliver took that course last year. Almost turned him into a tree-hugging pacifist.” I snorted, sparing a glance at my messy notes before turning back to the equations we were supposed to solve. “I think I’ve gotten more than half of these trajectories wrong.” “You did,” a dazed voice from above me said. I looked up just as Oliver Kensington snatched my scroll. He quickly pressed it against a stone pillar and began frantically scratching out my work with a piece of charcoal. “I’ll fix the path for you.” My jaw went slack as I watched him scribble down new—likely perfect—answers before handing the scroll back to me.

She had to let him go. Starting her Kindle app again, she loaded her book and instructed Oliver to read it to her. Once his familiar British voice chimed in, she closed her eyes and settled the iPad beside her, allowing herself to become lost in the story of ancient symbols and mysticisms that seemed well understood by Robert Langdon.

The book snapped shut. "Bend over." "Wh--at?" Zezi's eyes widened. No, no, no, NO! "I must find out my feelings for you one way or another. Now. Bend. Over." No, he did not just say that. "Your...Majesty, pl-please I---I--- can't." Oliver's voice sounded like it was muffled with tears and the image that flashed through Zezi's mind from that one thought, sent her blood boiling.