Tessa Afshar Novels & Stories

His gaze rests on my lips and the vague memory of our kiss at the bar appears in my mind. How can I hate him so much, and at the same time feel so bad to kiss him? A few steps interrupt our conversation, which I don't even know where it was going to end. -Well, well ... Who would say that the bad guy Azael Grimm was involved with the geek Lailah Gozt? -Cara Styles enters through the door of the changing rooms with a denim mini skirt and a long-sleeved top that reveals her navel piercing.- What an illusion the poor thing- she murmurs looking at me. Without a doubt, if Cara were an animal, she would be a viper.- She thinks you're caught by her. -This time look at Azael. Then he lets out a pois

My eyes widened at her statement and we both burst out laughing but I quickly got myself together. “I know you don't feel safe right now so I’ll leave but I’ll be expecting you,” Stephanie said as she took her bag and sashayed out without a second glance. I stared at the card in my hand as I wondered what she was on about. ****** Asher quietly placed a cup of coffee next to me and walked over to the seat. we had been working all day with the architect on the set for the photoshoots, there was something I loved about being drowned in overalls and sawdust and even though Asher had never done something like this before he was eager to try running his fingers through his hair in frustration I co

Is this really Tessa, or are my eyes playing some tricks with me? I tried to maintain my composure but there she was, as if she was peering into my soul. "Oh god! Vanessa was right about seeing her all along" I mouthed. "Vanessa saw her?" Dylan asked, eyes wide open. "I mean, she did see her on Tv, I just forgot to mention it to you, when she told me, I thought she had mistaken her for some one else, Tessa, a heiress of Vargas clan, how?" I asked, I have a lot of questions going through my head.

​On the three monitors mounted in front of me, lines of green terminal code cascaded downward like a silent, digital waterfall. ​My name is Harper Vance, but in the dark, digital underbelly of global network, I was a ghost maker. And right now, I was performing the most painful surgery of my life. ​My thumbs were raw. My left eye twitched every time the screen refresh rate hit sixty hertz. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't even blink for too long. Because on the center screen, glowing in brutal, uncompromising white pixels, was the name that had nearly cost my sister her life: