Speedwriter Novels & Stories

Weighted with all the things we're not saying. I turn away, watching the landscape blur past at impossible speeds. The speedometer reads 180. My ribs throb with every breath. My head pounds. Everything hurts. But we're moving. Getting closer. Suddenly, at 1:52, heavy traffic appears ahead. "No," I breathe. "No, no, no—" Shawn doesn't slow down. He jerks the wheel right, cutting across two lanes into the incorrect lane. Horns blare. Someone screams something I can't hear over the engine.

I cursed my own cowardice. As I left the bustling city behind and entered a quieter area with fewer cars, I floored the accelerator, watching the speedometer climb to 180 km/h. I opened the convertible’s top, but even with the heavy breeze blowing, it couldn't sweep away the stinging sensation coursing through my body.

She spoke trying to calm me down. "Maybe, just maybe, I will make it on time," I said. "Sure you will" she replied. Kira's expression turned determined as she pressed the accelerator, The sedan surged forward, its engine purring smoothly. She skillfully navigated through the crowded streets, expertly changing lanes, The speedometer needle climbed, reaching 60, 70, and then 80 km/h. Kira's hands moved swiftly, shifting gears with precision, The sedan glided through intersections, its tyres gripping the road.

Nova has spent years pretending to be a boy because her father warned her that anyone discovering she’s a girl could cost her life. Yet for Jaxon, her childhood best friend and the boy she’s loved for ten years, she risks everything to follow him to Wintercrest Hockey Academy, even becoming his roommate so she can finally confess her feelings. But when she catches him having sex with another girl on their birthday, her plans—and her heart—fall apart. She changes rooms, only to discover her new roommate is Alaric, the arrogant Alpha heir she recently humiliated. And just when living with him becomes unbearable, Nova discovers that the mysterious best friend she’s been secretly talking t

Aiden drove toward the garage hallway at an extremely slow speed, but his mouth kept going. “Tomorrow I’m showing it to Milo. Milo says his scooter is the fastest, but he’s lying. His scooter is blue and the wheels are small. My car is black. Black is faster.” “Color does not determine speed,” I said. “It determines aura.” I stopped halfway through taking off my cardigan. “Aiden,” I said slowly, “who taught you the word aura?” He didn’t answer. “Sebastian on YouTube,” Elma said. “His name is SpeedKingSeb,” Aiden corrected. “He reviews Lamborghinis.”