Short Books For Adults Novels & Stories

Chapter 1 Vanessa’s POV. I woke up to that empty side of the bed again, sheets cold as fuck where David should’ve been. Another goddamn work trip, gone before the sun even thought about rising. The house felt too quiet and too big, like it was pressing in on me from every wall. I threw on a simple tank top that rubbed against my bare tits and soft cotton shorts that clung to my ass, no bra, nipples already stiff from the morning chill.

Shadows danced on Dominic’s face as he sipped his whiskey, watching me over the rim of his glass. Julian lounged opposite us, shirt now on but still open at the collar. Mischief danced in his eyes. “Let’s play a game,” he said suddenly. “Truth or dare.” Dominic shot him a look. “We’re not teenagers.” Julian shrugged. “We’re three adults stuck in a villa with too much wine and too much tension. What could go wrong?” I laughed nervously. “What kind of dares are we talking about?” Julian’s gaze slid to me, slow and deliberate. “The kind that make you forget who you’re supposed to be.”

He shrugs and turns his eyes back to the TV. “Cool.” I guess we're never having a proper conversation. At least not today. I reach for my phone then. “Long story short…” he says suddenly, eyes still on the screen, “not enough sleep, too much coffee, and way too many people who think G****e is a medical degree.” I look at him, and we both chuckle at his last sentence. For the first time in a long while, the moment feels… light. Peaceful. Almost like us again.

I stood in the dimly lit hallway of the old Victorian mansion, the air thick with the scent of pine and cinnamon from the massive Christmas tree in the foyer. Snowflakes danced outside the frosted windows, but inside, my heart hammered like a drum. At 22, I'd spent months chasing rumors about the Veil Society, a secret brotherhood of influential men who pulled strings in the shadows of our city. They were legends, powerful, enigmatic, and utterly forbidden. And tonight, on Christmas Eve, I'd begged for an audience to prove I belonged.

Even the walls have ears. ******** #How It All Began “Fuck me harder! Oh please!” The sounds were loud and familiar, echoing through Lexie’s rented apartment. Her legs trembled as she walked to the door, her heart racing. To her shock, the door wasn’t even locked. One small push and she was inside. This was her house. She rented it and shared it with her girlfriend Kira. They had been best friends since childhood, and when college came, they decided to make things official. It had been two years of dating, and Lexie thought her love for Kira grew every single day.But then she saw it.

(A short story) FUNNY THINGS CAN happen when you're bored, they say ... And one afternoon last summer, in a large Birmingham hotel, boy was I bored! The lecture was ‘Maximising your Selling Potential through Eye Contact’ and the only thing my eyes wanted contact with was the inside of my eyelids. The speaker was short and tubby and dressed in Top Man meets Miami Vice. For my part, he’d no potential whatsoever ... The seminar delegates weren’t much better: the men were a bunch of yuppie pseuds and the women — with the single exception of a northern lass I’d teamed up with — were hard-faced chainstore power-dressers who’d do a damn sight more than make eyes to get a sale.

The next day at work felt like absolute torture. I was the manager of Velvet Desires, an upscale adult store located in a quiet corner of the city. We sold high-end toys, luxurious lingerie, premium lubes, and everything a woman could possibly want to explore her deepest fantasies. Normally I loved my job. I helped shy customers find their first vibrator, recommended the perfect bullet for discreet public play, and smiled through awkward conversations with complete confidence. Today, however, I could barely concentrate on anything.

Until now, strange short stories had only very short stories. But from volume two I intend to add stories that have 10 to 20 captains as well. These stories are not so long nor have so much visibility as a separated book. For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes.

Now that I’m an adult, I don’t care about Santa, gifts, or Christmas. It’s just another day for me, nothing special. I pick up a few more groceries from a corner store and head back out. By now, the street is darker, the sky a deep purple behind the lit-up houses. Fireworks pop somewhere in the distance, little bursts of color reflecting off the snow. I quicken my pace, hurrying home. As I pass an apartment building, I see kids leaning out of a first-floor window, writing on small pieces of paper and stuffing them into socks.

I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, turning back for my book on the kitchen counter; reading books will forever be my first love. At The Tasty Place Diner I found what might be my new inspiration. He was tall, almost roughed, not too soft. I don’t know what to make of what happened. “Mr. Blackwood,” he had signed my book; who was he? He was light skinned. I usually like men a shade closer to purple. His chest was broad, too broad. Usually my men are slimmer. He had lazy eyes that looked intense just when he needed them to be. Bedroom McDreamy eyes... And he smiled like a humming bird, glorious and slick.