Scrooge Novels & Stories

In this wooden chair, restrained at my neck, hands and ankles I could only squirm at his touch. He leaned in close, his bald head a patina of orange and shadow. His grey suit could not dampen the excitement in his mossy eyes. Austin, the blue of his shirt matching his eyes. Icebergs of venom, shining malevolently with every injury. Silently he picked up the scraper, happy with its white-hot glow, so hot that some sparks fell to the floor. “This is so hot it’s falling apart, the metal is literally going to stick to your face, burning to the bone,” waving the scraper around, slowly emphasising its impending failure. “No wolf can heal that shit. This is your last chance Roxie. Summon the demon.

I'd been in the pack's territory for a few days now and they were still giving me the cold shoulder except for Scott. He was standing at the back of his cabin near a handmade wooden chopping board with the stone oven lit. He had a pile of cooked meat stacked on the board in front of him, shredding it apart with a fork and knife. "Hi," I said, folding my hands behind my back as I neared him. Scott was as tall as Hunt, with dark blonde hair and broad shoulders, looking like one of those men that lived in the mountains—which ironically he did—in his plaid shirt with those mesmerising lake blue eyes.

Thank you all for reading my book. This is my second book on good novel and I hope you all enjoy it. 'Quagmire' is a romance novel which possesses a lot of twists, turns, complications but still enough romance to keep it interesting and thrilling. The book is an entire work of fiction and is not intended to make mockery or downgrade any kind of individual.

They never worried about others, they didn't even worry about their own family, only their money mattered to them. Fuck, if Scrooge wasn't the perfect example of that then I didn't know what would be! He bowed his head and brought a hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. A moment later his eyes met mine and the familiarity of them almost startled me to death. They looked exactly like mine. The darkness, the softness, the anger, the color the shape, everything matched my own reminding me that we indeed did share a relation whether I cared to admit it or not.

She walked in with the wind and caught my attention. I hid so she couldn’t see me. I knew she was here to see my father. Her mother signed her in and I caught her name, Sadie. My father doctor Joel Coleman. One of the most beloved psychiatric in Brockville. I sadly wondered what was wrong with this beautiful creature. She sat next to her mother, still looking towards the floor. “Jacob, where are you?” I heard my father holler out. Sadie turned her head slightly. I caught a flash of her blue-green eyes and then back to the floor they went. “I’m right here father,” I said as I stepped into his office. My father, a man in his fifties. Looked up from his glasses at me.