Scrooge Novels & Stories

That is his way of life. "That’s Carter Horaze Villaraza." Sancha said this while secretly pointing to a man next to Zeeve. He appears to be cold and intimidating! His hair was neatly cut, and his defined cheekbones and concrete jaw stood out while he chewed his food. “Auxel Ryder Gallego.” My gaze was drawn to the other guy next to Carter; he looks so fine with his scythe-shaped brows and sea rover-blue eyes that are noticeable even from a distance.

I mumbled under my breath. "Anyway I'll start," I cheered before clearing my throat. "Your full name?" "That will be Giovanni," he said slightly tensed but I decided to give a blind eye to his change of mood after all he is mentally unstable or so I thought. "You do realise I asked for your full name?" I stated in matter of fact. "I'm well aware Rose but you see there's something about my full name that always leaves people gasping so basically I'm doing you a favour," "Egoistic prick,"

Here is the code to access the bank locker which makes you the richest man in the universe. Take the money and bring up my child like your own. Yours ever loving friend, Prince Vangchew. "Scarlet. Are you alright?" Ace shook her and asked concerned. She could only nod with eyes drizzling tears. "Why is God so unfavorable to me, Ace? Every couple of years I see a new twist in my life."

My phone buzzed, and I checked it to see a message from my best friend, Hilda. “Where are you?!” She asked. “Already here.” I typed back. “What’s up?” “You need to get in asap! Alessandro Scavo is here!” My brows furrowed in confusion. "Who is that?!” “Oh, I forgot Massimo cut you off from the internet. Alessandro is the best thing since sliced bread. He's so handsome my heart breaks every time he smiles.” My lips curl into the faintest smile as I read Hilda's text gushing about the late Don's son.

Alpha Jones held his hand to lift him up but he resisted. "That's who he is. He came to disunite us in this Manor" Sophie buttressed. "Yes, this is who I am" Scott stood up to his feet. His face had changed. He was no longer looking like Scott. His face was disgusting with a long scar running across his face. "Then who the hell are you?" Sophie challenged him. "I am Kratos" he said boldly. "Kratos or Scott or whatever you are" Alpha Jones paused to stare at Sophie. "You are still my Beta and that will remain as that" he enforced stamping his foot on the ground.

The shop owner then said nervously to Frederick, "Hurry up and get out. I won't sell these herbs to you!" Just then, the young woman who'd just entered said, "Sir, has the century-old Dragon's Tear root arrived yet?" The shop owner glared at Frederick before turning to her with a smile. "Give me a moment to retrieve it, Ms. Scott, Mr. Scott." The shop owner then went into a room behind the counter. Frederick observed the man known as Mr. Scott. Mr. Scott had a sunken face and sickly skin color. His hair was thin and when he walked, his footsteps were shaky. Even his whiskers were far lesser than what was normal for those of his age.

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.

“And is he?” Zoe said now. Torn from his thoughts, Scars stared at her, without a clue what she might be talking about. “Is who what?” he asked. “Is Saint a saint?” His hard face cracked into a smile at that, and Zoe almost swooned. Much like a teenaged girl going all stupid over some boy band, Zoe really, truly, almost full-on swooned. Just when she thought that she liked Scars just fine all scowling and rough, he went and smiled at her.

The night stretched long and cold, the air thick with the scent of blood and damp earth. The battle had ended, but the war was far from over. Scar emerged from the shadows, his towering frame moving with deadly grace. His fur, a deep shade of charcoal, gleamed under the moonlight. Scars littered his body, marks of past battles, proof of his dominance. His golden eyes flickered with something unreadable as he stopped in front of the crumpled figure on the ground.

His footsteps echoed ominously, resonating with the turmoil within him. He felt a surge of nausea rising in his throat, a bitter reminder of the poison that coursed through his veins. He clenched his teeth, fighting back the urge to vomit. He had to maintain his composure, his dignity, his reputation. He was Scar, the billionaire philanthropist, the visionary genius, Lord of the dragons. He could not afford to show weakness, not in front of his enemies.