Solitary Man Book Novels & Stories

I take a deep breath and I say “ you are my first mate and the only woman I will ever want from the moment I saw you all others vanished. I won’t lie and say I’ve waited but I will say I will never even pretend to touch another woman if you give me a chance I will do my best to make you one of the happiest women In the world. For now how about I give you that tour and we can talk a little more while I do?” Excited as crap when she nods and grabs my hand. I feel the sparks attacking me I’ve waiting so long to feel what this feels like. I sigh in bliss as we fall in step together I show her the pack house and tell her “I’ve had a few one night stands never really dated anyone and never slept w

"Larry, I have days off too. I'm, um, off-duty." "It's just a coffee." I hold up palms. "I promise you my intentions are strictly honourable." Her mouth quirks. "In that case, yes, thank you. I'd love a coffee." She turns to the counter. "I'll take this as well please, Cliff." A gnome of a man wraps the book in a creased brown-paper bag. I squint a look at the title. Nothing to Declare: Memoirs of a Woman Traveling Alone.

Even most of the nine could not compete with him on that level. After Mane picked that manual, the other books disappeared. A bright light was once again released from the 3rd mountain. This time, a prepared Mane did not have to close his eyes. When the lights faded, there were a cluster of books hovering around him. Unlike before, he did not read their descriptions before making his decision. No, his hand reached for a manual before he could even think.

If Malik felt the same way, he must understand why I had to leave my room to find something better than a nonfiction book on the Love pack. Then he holds up the book he had chosen, and I yelp. A man held a naked woman against him, her private areas covered primarily by only a thin veil of silk fabric. His face was by her neck, as she clung to his back, that was enveloped by a thin sheen of sweat. Clearly, they are amidst the throes of passion, or close to it. Large font pronouncing something I didn't want to consider suggested what kind of book he had produced. Some sort of raunchy, sexy romance novel.

"I only care about the audit of the girl who climbed my roof a year ago. How are the books looking?" I looked at the man who had traded a billion-dollar empire for a chance to dream in color. I looked at the masterpiece behind us, a soaring, defiant shout against the silence of the world. "The books are balanced, Silas," I whispered, pulling him down for a kiss that tasted of high altitudes, saltwater, and a freedom that no ledger could ever contain. "In fact, I think we’re finally operating at a massive surplus."

We sat together for a while, not talking, just two people who had been on opposite sides of the same terrible situation finding out that the distance between them was smaller than either had believed. That evening, after dinner, I went to find Damien. He was in the library again, which was where he always was when he was not anywhere else, sitting at the long table with one lamp on and the rest of the room in soft shadow, reading something that was not work for once. An actual book. I stood in the doorway for a second, just taking that in, because it was such an ordinary and human thing and I had spent a week watching him be extraordinary and competent and I had almost forgotten he was also

Whatever that means. I see the bookstore ahead of me; the neon light flickers each time a rumble of thunder booms, rattling the town. It’s raining, so there shouldn’t be anyone inside, and I'll be alone. As I open the door, I pause briefly with my senses on high alert. The baby hairs on the back of my neck and my arms rise stiffly as the feeling of being watched begins to invade my mind. The only person I see when I turn my head to scan around me, is a scruffy looking man in his twenties, approaching the bookstore in clothes that cling to his sculpted body. I smile at him to ease the discomfort as I hold open the door for him and walk inside, taking shelter from the icy rain. He follows behi

“There is something going on, Rhys. I can feel it, and it is not good. In this town, there is something everyone knows, but they ignore it.” “Let us go to bed.” He told her, leading her to the bed. “Your aunt will expect you to help her with the preparations, and you have not slept a wink.” They laid on the bed, facing each other. Rhys thought of the notebook and wondered. Sophie thought of Celine and wondered. *** The man rushed from his house, cradling the book in his arms as though it were a child. The only evidence that remained was to go. The forest enveloped him, shielding him from any eyes that pried. He looked at him consciously. If this was gone, he could rest well, perhaps.

In the picture, Harold was listening intently to a doctor in a white coat, while Jacob sat obediently beside him. Susan's face was only half visible in the corner of the frame, but she was smiling brightly. The caption read. "I thought I'd hit rock bottom, only to realize a new path was waiting just ahead. I'm so lucky that you're always here." I thought I'd be angry when I saw the post. Yet, to my surprise, I felt nothing. It felt like I was observing two strangers who no longer had any connection to me. I liked the post and commented, "Such a lovely family. Congratulations."

His lashes long and dark against his cheeks, one tiny hand clutching the edge of her sleeve as if afraid to drift too far. Daniel sat on the floor beside her, back against the crib. His shoulder brushed her knee, and Theodore’s head rested against her chest as he floated between waking and dreams. In Sophia’s hands lay a book. Not just any book — their book. Handmade. Bound in soft leather. The title pressed in delicate gold script: The Girl Who Waited, and the Man Who Finally Found Her. She turned the first page and began to read, her voice warm and low, colored with memory.