Skeleton Hand Holding Something Novels & Stories

Our usually reliable nanny, Emma Spencer, called me three times in a row today, sounding completely panicked. "Ma’am, something’s wrong. The kindergarten security won’t let Noah in, no matter what! They said the name that shows up when they scan the card doesn’t match. The card belongs to a kid named 'Gabriel', not our Noah at all!" My hand paused over the report I was reviewing, my brows furrowing. "Emma, didn't my husband hand the card to you himself last night?" On the other end, she sounded like she was about to cry. "Yes! But the scanner shows the name 'Gabriel Cooper'. The guard says we must have the wrong card and keeps questioning me!" That didn’t make any sense. To get Noah into the top-tier Starlight Bilingual Academy, I had pulled every string I could half a year ago and paid a $300,000 donation just to secure a spot. For the past month, my husband, Scott Shaw, had been the one driving our son to school every day. This morning, he said he was busy and couldn’t take Noah, so Emma went instead. So how did it suddenly turn into someone else’s school card the moment she took over?

Back when I was young and dumb, I slapped some college guy working a side gig at a nightclub. My boyfriend had just ditched me for my best friend, Vanessa Shannon. Then, not even five minutes later, I caught her in the corner, sliding her hand under another guy's shirt. He bit his lip and just took it. Something in my brain short-circuited. I stood up and walked over. If Vanessa wanted him, why couldn't I? But the second I reached for him, he smacked my hand away. Vanessa cracked up. The whole private room turned to watch. Mortified, I slapped him. "You work at a place like this. Don't play innocent." Later, my family went broke, and I ended up working at a nightclub just to get by. The private room was loud as hell. I lost a game, and everyone at the table started chanting for me to take my bra off. My face went hot. I stood there, completely frozen. Then a low voice cut through the noise with a cold laugh. "You work at a place like this. Don't play innocent." I looked up. Our eyes locked. His stare was icy, full of pure mockery. It was the college guy I'd slapped years ago.

"I love you so much Chelsey," Chad cried while holding the lifeless body of his beloved childhood sweetheart. It was heartbreaking for Kristina and Nathaniel to see their elder son crying while holding his girlfriend, Chelsey who was bathing with her own blood after a tragic vehicular accident. "I just can't believe it's actually happening now Nats," Kristina told her husband. Her heart is broken seeing how painful it was for her elder son Chad, grieving for his girlfriend's loss, who seemed to be his love since they were young. Chelsey and Chad's journey for love is like a roller coaster. Will they meet again, after this tragedy?

Our son's birthday celebration had just come to an end when my wife of seven years smiled and asked, "What do you think about one wife having two husbands?" "What?" I stared at her, certain I had misheard. Before I could make sense of the question, my half-brother walked in, holding a three-year-old boy’s hand. I was still trying to process what was happening when Nancy leaned back with casual ease. "I asked them to come." She reached down and took the little boy's hand, her smile impossibly gentle. "Let me introduce you. This is my son with Julian. "He was born the year you were stationed overseas to manage the Scott family's branch office." The words made my mind explode, leaving it completely blank. She calmly revealed the truth. She and Julian had been together for four years. "I know you've always blamed Julian for your father's death. “I suffered through hiding them for four years out of consideration for you." Her gaze never wavered. "I don’t want them living in the shadows anymore. I want them here by my side." I struggled to stay on my feet, my voice trembling as I forced out the words. "What are you saying?" Nancy raised a hand and gently brushed her fingertips beneath my reddened eyes. "I just want you to be a little more generous. Don't interfere when I spend every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday with them." After a brief pause, she added matter-of-factly, "Or you can divorce me, but our son will stay with me." She smiled as though she were discussing nothing more important than the weather. "I just don't care about you anymore. Even if our son stays with me, I can't promise I'll take good care of him." Ignoring the color draining from my face, she looked at me indifferently. "So… "Have you decided which option to choose?"

Surrounded by luxury and comfort, Dominique Le Blanc does not miss anything, except excitement. His life as the owner of the largest casino in Monaco requires a lot of time and dedication to enjoy this refined and electrifying, but unimportant, environment. Bets and money are no longer able to excite you. Could that change with a gunshot-covered escape in a hospital parking lot? Without knowing why, a young woman flees from her armed captors. The reason for the chase is unknown, but the escape leads her to get into the first open car she sees. Driven by the instinct to fight for her own life, she hides in the vehicle, while the passengers agree to flee the scene quickly. The young woman carries nothing with her, no belongings, no clothes, no name and much less memories. What is the first thing she should look for? “An Inconsequent Desire” is a dark novel full of action and chaos, with two protagonists who know very well what they want… or almost. Tension, desire, luxury and danger mix as Dominique and the fugitive try to resolve their relationship and their desires in a world as opulent as it’s reckless. Violence and attraction go hand in hand for a couple covered in the past, immersed in the present and with almost no future. What is the price of unearthing their memories? How much can it change what is yet to come? Love or obsession. Salvation or ruin. In the end, everyone has something to lose... and maybe that's everything.

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."

Near the end of the year, my best friend, Bethany Greer, and I decide to buy matching gold-plated bangles from Temu for ten dollars just to keep up appearances. The moment we open the package, we both freeze in shock. The heavy weight in our hands and the dazzling shine of pure gold practically scream luxury and authenticity. My hands tremble as I quickly snap a photo and message the seller. I text, "There seems to be something wrong with this order." The seller replies instantly, sounding incredibly arrogant. "Why did you only say something is wrong only after you received it? What were you doing earlier?" I try to send photos as proof. "No, seriously, look at what I'm holding first. I ordered fake bangles..." The seller does not even look at the pictures and immediately sends a voice message in an incredibly rude tone. "I don't care what you order! Once the package is opened, there's no seven-day return policy! Even if it rots in your hands, that's your problem! Don't try making excuses to scam stuff for free. Once the packaging is opened, it belongs to you. Not even the Almighty can help you return it! "And if you dare spread nonsense, I'll report you for posting malicious reviews!" I stare thoughtfully at the gold bangle on my wrist that is worth thousands of dollars. Well, since he insists so strongly, I guess I'll reluctantly keep it. I just hope he doesn't regret it when he realizes the real bangle is missing!

She lied on the snow cover ground in front of me. Shivering and barely alive. I stared at her, curious of this simple little life before me. Her scent was all I could smell, which is how I found her. From the moment I had laid eyes on her in the lodge back at the ski resort, I knew that I had to have her. I shifted and quickly picked her up holding her close to my warm body and quickly made my way to the cabin near by. Matto had never found someone that intrigued him as much as she did. He still was unsure why, but all he knew was that it pained him to be away from her. Now holding her so close as she clung to life he found himself afrai the snow cover ground in front of me. Shivering and barely alive. I stared at her, curious of this simple little life before me. Her scent was all I could smell, which is how I found her. From the moment I had laid eyes on her in the lodge back at the ski resort, I knew that I had to have her. I shifted and quickly picked her up holding her close to my warm body and quickly made my way to the cabin near by.

I was reborn before I signed up for a scientific expedition tour to the South Pole. My boyfriend’s adopted younger sister used a system to forcefully exchange my physical senses with hers. She deliberately went out to do something good on a day with a temperature of 107.6 °F, like delivering water to the outdoor workers. On the other hand, I got so hot in a 60.8 °F air-conditioned room that I fainted from heat stroke. I begged Wendy Little to stop, but she feigned innocence. “You must make a good excuse if you want to lie like that!” Max Little sounded disdainful. “How selfish! You’re quite lucky to enjoy yourself in air-conditioned rooms every day. You can’t tolerate Wendy doing something kind.” Wendy took her time and basked in the sun for a month outside. People took photos of her and put them on the internet. Countless netizens were moved by her. But I died from heat stroke in an air-conditioned room. Nobody even found my corpse. If that was how it was, I wanted her to enjoy the coolness of -184 °F in the South Pole.

(This is a dark romance. 18+) King Sven laughs again, one hand fondling the breast of the woman on top of him. The pain in my chest becomes unbearable, and I wince. His eyes flicker with something dark and satisfied. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “Spending a week in prison hasn't tamed your tongue, I see,” he says, the teasing edge in his voice making my skin crawl. “I want to take my time with you… savor you to the fullest. I know I’ll enjoy breaking you.” “You’ll have to kill me first.” “Who says I won’t?” — In a world where Fae are hunted and treated less than an animal, Olivia and her mute twin brother, Kyle, have spent nine years hiding their true identity within the Shadow Moon Pack. Pretending to be lowly Omegas, they blend into the pack, constantly fearing discovery. But when a simple mistake exposes Olivia's Fae heritage to the sadistic Alpha King Sven—a ruthless hybrid known for his hatred of magical beings—their lives spiral into chaos, even worse they discover they're something more.