The Good Novel Novels & Stories

EDUCATE YOURSELF. I hope you enjoy this GoodNovel as it unfolds. I'd like to hear from you guys soon! Please do leave a review on what you think about this story. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED COPYRIGHT © RONAN

I was beginning to think this marriage wasn’t bad after all. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “There is no such thing as a good story. There is only something like a good book. A good book is where a reader finds complete solace and comfort; a way to escape harsh realities relating to his life” - R.A Higheels If you liked this chapter, please consider leaving a review!

which is also available on GoodNovel. Please read and enjoy the story happily and if you want, you can truly point out my mistakes, I seriously don't mind. Happy Reading to you. ritika. ♥

EDUCATE YOURSELF. I hope you enjoy this GoodNovel as it unfolds. I'd like to hear from you guys soon! Please do leave a review on what you think about this story. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED COPYRIGHT © RONAN

I have a boy-fucking-friend and lusting for that fucker shouldn't be part of the plan. He's not just my neighbour. He's the enemy. My enemy, and my family's enemy. Damien fucking Vincenzo is a bastard hiding behind a body that looks to be sculpted by the gods themselves. And if I should get the chance, I will carve his skin, inch by every bloody inch and feed his eyes to the Vultures for everything he made me go through at Crescent high. And again. I have a boyfriend. My sinfully hot neighbor who's walking around butt naked in a fucking glass penthouse without curtains shouldn't be a distraction right?

My hands unconsciously clenched into fists, my fingernails digging deep into my palms. Suddenly, intimate sounds came from the next room. "Ah! Be gentle. Ellie just fell asleep," Kendra whispered, her voice soft and alluring. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle," Cody replied, his voice husky with desire. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. However, every sound was like a knife, stabbing over and over into my chest. I could not help but remember my first date with Kendra. It was a sunny afternoon, and we strolled the park. Kendra wore a light blue dress, the sunlight dancing along the tips of her hair.

I said, answering. "Define good." His voice was tight. "We've got a problem. A big one." "What kind of problem?" "The Victor Russo kind of problem." I straightened. Victor Russo was a corporate raider. He was some hot shit millionaire who circled bankrupt companies and tore them apart for profit. He was said to be ruthless, aggressive, and very, very good at what he did. He was never in my circles, though, and our paths never crossed. I knew he was staying away from me on purpose.

"Kaia Keene, first you refuse to do your good deeds, and now you're making up lies." "I'm not lying! I ran out of money and got a part-time job. I met this old woman, and she wants me to give her a grandson—" I rushed to explain, desperate to make her believe me. She cut me off. "Then have the baby. Give them a healthy boy, and I'll count it as ten years' worth of good deeds. You won't have to worry about your daily good deed anymore." The call disconnected. I stared at the phone, stunned.

Dear Editor, since a mail wasn’t sent from my new editor and I can’t react GN editors I am writing to request the termination of my book contract for "Rademos" on the Goodnovel app. I understand that this termination may result in the removal of my book from the platform. I confirm that I have read and understood the terms and conditions of the contract and acknowledge that I am responsible for any consequences arising from this termination. Please confirm receipt of this request and provide a timeline for the termination process. If there are any outstanding matters or requirements, please inform me promptly. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

“Which novels?” I listed them. He nodded at two as if he already knew them, and asked a quiet question about the third that proved he had read it carefully. The conversation that followed was the most ordinary exchange we had ever shared and somehow the most intimate. We talked about sentences that had stayed with us, about the particular comfort of a book that had already been finished once, about the way certain stories felt different at three in the morning than they did in daylight. The lantern light stayed warm on our hands. The blanket kept our knees close. Every so often one of us shifted and the wool dragged, and the small friction felt louder than it should have. At some point my sh