Stealing Writing Novels & Stories

He’s nursing a cup of coffee when I slide into the seat across from him. “Still look like you don’t trust the government,” I say by way of greeting. He snorts. “And you still look like trouble.” I flash him a grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Now spill.” He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Brennan doesn’t just write stories, Stevie. He creates them. He finds dirt, sure, but when there’s nothing there? He makes sure something exists.” I frown. “You mean he plants stories?”

I snatched it up and peeled it open, my eyes taking in the words scribbled on it. “Some things were meant to be stolen.”

Hi! I want to write for this story more, but I don't have much time left and my priority right now is the Stolen alpha. But I did have some time last week, so here is chapter four. I find that if I don't write for a while I am taken out of the story and have a hard time writing for it. So I think once I do have time I just have to spend a few hours planning this storyline and typing some chapters before I can actually feel ready to publish.

"Didn't you say my mom scraped together fourteen thousand three hundred dollars for you? Where's the money?" His lips moved, but nothing came out. "Spent it all?" He dropped his head. "You had a lot to say before. Said I lost to you, said you won. What about now?" He was on the ground, sobbing so hard he could barely breathe. "Nathan, I was wrong... So wrong... I shouldn't have stolen your money, shouldn't have taken your scholarship... Just let me off..." I stood up and looked at him. "Kevin, the problem isn't that you stole my money or took my scholarship. The problem is you thought the world would always be on your side. The problem is you thought my parents would always have your back. T

"An adult's personal property is protected by law. $50,000 exceeds the threshold for a major theft offense. The victim has chosen to press charges. That's entirely lawful." My father froze. Then he turned to glare at me as though I were his mortal enemy. His eyes were bloodshot. "Elise Whitmore! Are you really going to have your own father arrested? You ungrateful little monster! You'd throw your own father in jail over a little money? You'll be struck by lightning for this!" "Struck by lightning?" I couldn't help laughing. Tears streamed down my face as I reached into my bag and pulled out the confidentiality agreement I'd signed with the travel agency.

The deepest rot of an obsession doesn't show when the thief is quietly copying your walk or hiding behind your name; it erupts in a singular, unhinged scream of pure, concentrated envy when the stolen world is ripped from their fingers, exposing a lifetime of charting your milestones just to burn them down.

Ever since I moved in, that family across the hall had been stealing anything they could get their hands on. No wonder I found it odd when I first moved in. No one in the entire building kept shoes or umbrellas outside their doors. It turned out that everyone was just trying to protect themselves from this bizarre family. They really loved stealing. It even included my doormat or any food deliveries I did not pick up immediately. They did not even spare my bras, panties, and socks that were hanging out to dry on the rooftop!

He smiles giving me the rundown of the day, but once I heard the part of me sending my mother a letter, the smile drops from my face slightly. Yes, I want to send my mother a letter to let her and everyone else know that I’m okay and nothing horrible has happened to me. But how in the world am I going to word the letter?! I can’t outright tell her a man kidnapped me who I’ve learnt is my mate, but how he is also a mythical creature that we never would know existed! I know how suspicious it will be that I disappear from the face of the earth, only to send her a letter telling her I’m okay but asking about a little story that she used to tell me as a child! I know if the roles were reversed an

He paused, then looked at me. "If you want, I can alter its structure. Break the connection. I can even make it backfire on the person who cast it." So that was how it was… No wonder she became some so-called 'lucky streamer.' She was not lucky. She was burning through my luck, stealing my life. "How much?" I asked without hesitation. "I don't charge," he replied, calm and firm. "Stopping things like this is a good enough reason." I froze for a second, then immediately handed him the paper.

Cedrick was about to yank my hand away from those people, but I dodged and stood my ground. “Miss Yuki Carter is a copycat! He doesn't really know how to write, he's really a thief!” My tongue snapped out, so angry that I had to defend my book. I'm sure some of Miss Yuki Carter's works were stolen by her as well. He might have used a ghost writer, and such writers are worthless. The only thing important to them is money. I dedicated blood, sleep, and sweat to my book. Then just steal? "Why do you call Miss Yuki Carter, a seasoned writer, a thief?" A reporter asked me. But before I could speak…