This Man Series Books Novels & Stories

“Why d…do you…want to…kill…me? Wh…hat…have I done to…you?” “It's nothing personal,” the man's voice was as cold as ice. “It's just a manhunt.” And the last thing the guy has ever heard in his life was the loud bang of the revolver that ended him. He almost escaped. Only almost. * * * “Hi, good morning. The two of you must be Mr. And Mrs. Andrews?” asked Jacob Price politely, professionally like the way his Snyder Italian Cashmere Sutton Suit in Navy Blue wrapped around his well-built figure. He stood up at a height of 5'11. His hair was dark and soft and the perfect haircut for his oval-shaped face. Blessed with a pair of blue eyes—as blue as the skies, just looking through those windows cou

-I will fucking kill all of you someday. *** "That one," A well-dressed gentleman, in his mid fifty's pointed at the blue-eyed boy standing in the group. His buyer looked like a man one would meet in the rich district of London. Sauve and sophisticated. The man could even have a wife and children. However, his alter ego might have a lot of boys' skeletons in his closet.

Another one roared. "Can someone call security?" The others suggested. "Don't worry, ladies. I'll handle this." They all looked satisfied when a man walked towards Marionne. He looked like in his mid-40s, yet still, look formidable and elegant. "I know you, Marionne, right?" Marianne felt like he was showered with ice-cold water. The man in front of him was the father of Ava. "Uhm—yes—yes, sir." He struggled to answer.

I land on one of the men, He lets out a grunt before I swing my elbow back, smashing his nose until he knocks out cold. The driver hands grip the steering wheel in fright and the truck skids. I gripped the knife and placed it on his neck. He visibly stiffens and gulps audibly. "Pull over." I spat. He nods quickly before complying. The truck slowly pulls to the side and comes to a halt. "Get out." I grumble. His shaky hands fumbles with the door handle before he opens it. Ace stops before us and gets out. He marches towards us and opens the passenger door. He pulls me out carefully then pulls out the unconscious man. He falls with a thud on the dirt.

“I want to tell you what kind of book it is. Not what the back cover says you’ve read that. What I think it actually is.” I looked at the room. “It’s a book about a man,” I said. “Specifically, a particular man his hands, his voice, the strong black tea he drank every morning for thirty years, the way he cried at my school graduation and didn’t pretend he hadn’t. The way he cooked on Saturday afternoons and believed, without sentimentality, that paying full attention to the small things was the substance of a life.” I paused. “It’s also a book about what happened to him. What was constructed and deployed against him by people who found him threatening and found it convenient to remove him. W

TIA POV The morning flew by fast. After making the last of the suggested changes, I sent my finished manuscript to my editor. This will be the fourth and final book of my book series. I love a good murder mystery. Add a sexy mountain-shifter, bad boy recluse with a dark past and a lot of love to give, and I am all in. And apparently, so are my readers.

He handed the books he had chosen to the young worker and stuffed his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. "'The SAS Survival Handbook?' and '2020 Standard Catalog of Firearms'?..." The worker raised her brows at the young man in front of her, the corner of her lips twitching unconsciously, as she used this opportunity to look at his handsome face. "Your taste is still as random as always." This guy would either wander around the bookstore just looking around, or buy the most random craziest books ever. She remembers the first time she saw him buying books here, the titles of those being "Demons: The Devil, Possession & Exorcism" and "Poisonous Plants". The poor girl wasn't sure if this guy wa

He is cold, calculative, and indifferent in front of other people. Kyle chimed in, his expression more serious as he voiced his concerns. He rested his head on his palm. "Sherly, this is serious," he said, his tone earnest. He really needs to see who that man is. "We need to know who this man is and what he's involved in. We need to make sure he's worthy of you."

I don't know what for but ugh I don't really care. See you soon- Suddenly my diary was snatched away from my desk as I looked up and glared at the intruder. "Eric, you devil give me that back!" I screamed standing up and started running after my 6-year-old brother who ran with my diary in his hands. "Ah!" He shouted and giggled and ran down the stairs and into the living room. "Eric I'm going to fucking kill you-" I immediately halted when I entered the living room and saw an unfamiliar man sitting on the couch across from where my parents.

I exclaimed, stepping back instinctively. The man laughed, a warm, easy sound that immediately made me relax. “Hey, it’s okay. You really don’t need to apologize.” I looked up—and froze slightly. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties, with messy blonde hair that fell in soft waves over his forehead. His eyes were a clear, bright blue, and when he smiled, they crinkled at the corners in a way that made him seem friendly, open, and—unintentionally—charming. He wasn’t intimidating or overbearing. He just looked… approachable, kind, effortless. Handsome without trying.