The Crossover Barnes And Noble Novels & Stories

You'll be able to find me on various SM pl@forms so make sure you come check in on the latest :) I am currently working on more Mafia romances, a new series called The Notorious Five. If you haven't read this, you will want to as it is so much better than Cruz, darker and grittier. This is the series that has taken up most of my time and if you read the books, you will see why. They are constantly updated and the series is almost finished. If you find me on SM, you'll be able to find out where the works are :)

Surveillance Report – Subject: Julian Cross Agent Assigned: Dominic LaRoux – Initial Sweep Objective: Behavior log / confirmation of routine integrity 14:15 – Cross exits office building Standard exit through side lot, no assistant or driver. Alone. Wears tailored navy suit, unremarkable briefcase. 14:35 – Arrives at a small bookstore on 42nd Spends twenty minutes browsing nonfiction titles. Purchases one: "The Quiet Strategist" by Myles Eckhart. No apparent connection to work.

Then she picked up her phone, and scrolled, scrolled and scrolled. Then stopped. “Business mogul and billionaire tycoon Jasper Moretti found dead in abandoned house” the headline of the news read. Her heart skipped. "Is this one of Ethan's friends?" She asked herself. “Might be a coincidence. Maybe a name sake.” She dropped the phone and took up the book once more. Flipping more pages even though her head screamed not to. She flipped once then stopped, and flipped it back. Her heart dropped. "Nolan Cross.” Boldly written in black ink, different from the others.

"Whatever happens, we face it together." "I know." "You're not alone." "I know." He squeezed. Held on. The Bookstore The store was small, wedged between a coffee shop and a used clothing store, a hand-painted sign swinging in the breeze. Crossroads Books. I stood across the street for a long time, watching. "He doesn't know you're coming," Adam said. "I know." "If you're not ready" "I'll never be ready." I crossed the street. Opened the door. The bell chimed. The store smelled like paper and dust and something else coffee, maybe, or the candles burning on the counter. Shelves lined every wall. Stacks of books covered the floor.

I placed my hand on the cold knob, and it creaked open under my push, revealing a library. Dust floated in the amber light coming from a chandelier, the scent of old paper surrounded me like an embrace. Shelves towered on all sides, cracked and faded with a variety of books. My fingers drifted along the titles crested in the rectangular back of the books, then something caught my eye—a red hardback, its cover smooth and untouched. The title was etched in gold: LEGACY OF THE CROSS.

Now, all at once, it hit me that everything I had given over the years had been nothing more than a one-sided effort. I was just about to book a flight when I realized I had forgotten my ID and passport, so I had no choice but to return home. The moment I opened the door, I was greeted by a mess all over the floor. Leftover snacks were scattered everywhere, along with half-finished dishes left behind. Right by the bedroom door lay something impossible to miss—a box of levonorgestrel pills and a piece of wine-red lingerie. Willow had never liked being physically intimate with me. Even Naomi's existence had come from a drunken incident.

Ava's POV The kitchen smells like coffee and toast when I shuffle in the next morning, notebook tucked under my arm like a shield. Sunlight spills through the blinds, slicing across the worn wooden table where Dad—Coach Reynolds—sits with the sports section spread open in front of him. His reading glasses perch low on his nose, steam rising from the mug in his hand.

I stepped into it, and in the mirror, I didn’t see the girl chasing Nathan Cross. I saw the woman standing beside him. The price? $24,500. I didn’t blink. I walked to the counter, head high. The clerk didn’t bother hiding her skepticism—her eyes dipped to my sandals, then flicked to my face. “I’ll take it,” I said. Her smile stretched. Fake. Patronizing. “Mr. Cross must approve all charges. Surely you understand.” I didn’t flinch. Just slid the Centurion card across the counter. Aeternum Cross. My name—Lana Reyes—engraved in silver.

There is no mate bond, but having him close makes me feel more secure. “I can’t wait for you to see this.” He rubs his thumb on the top of my hand as he leads me to a store. It’s rare Bronx gets so excited about surprising me. We approach a bookstore with a dusty, old window display. In gold paint, there is a picture of a pan flute and a goat. The images are peeling and sundried as if they’ve been there forever. Over the pictures are the words ‘The Barded Goat Used & Collectible Books’.

The way her Louboutins clicked against the wooden flooring, making her way to her next victim in an attempt to climb up that social ladder made Giovanni and me exchange a glance of ‘Is she for real? It was almost midnight and a few minutes before the start of the countdown to be exact. Everyone was watching the clock like a ticking time bomb. I left the room, seeking silent solace on the cupola, a balcony roofed by a perfectly decorated dome. Glistening lights lined the inside of the roof, creating its own confined sky. It was a quaint space, lined with bookshelves and art from all over the world. The chandelier that hung low on the ceiling was finished in burnished brass and the candles wer