Tom Selleck Novels & Stories

“Anything you feel like talking about. Hell, you could probably wax eloquent on Cary Grant’s looks, and the therapist would just let you talk.” “Wax eloquent?” I could almost hear the smirk I knew would be on her face. “Yup. You know my philosophy on certain actors. They could be dead and decaying, but they’d still be sexy!” That got a laugh out of her. “Sean Connery?” “Benedict Cumberbatch.” That magical man will always be sexy. “Ryan Gosling?” Ugh. Kimia knows I hate the Notebook. “Ew, no.” I grinned at my next sexy star. “Denzel Washington.”

“Anything you feel like talking about. Hell, you could probably wax eloquent on Cary Grant’s looks, and the therapist would just let you talk.” “Wax eloquent?” I could almost hear the smirk I knew would be on her face. “Yup. You know my philosophy on certain actors. They could be dead and decaying, but they’d still be sexy!” That got a laugh out of her. “Sean Connery?” “Benedict Cumberbatch.” “Ryan Gosling?” “Ew, no. Denzel Washington.” She was beginning to really giggle now. “Chadwick Bosman.” I sighed. “Yeah. Henry Cavill, too.”

He paused for a minute then sighed. “Dillion was going through the files we brought from Mendoza’s compound and found out who his dealer is.” I waited for him to tell me. “Well, who the fuck is it?” He took a deep breath. “It is Joseph King, the leader of the Suicide Kings.” I inhaled deeply and then let it out slowly. The Suicide Kings were the only gang in New York that was bigger than ours. Joseph King was a badass and I realized that I may have just made a deal with the devil.

Zack proceeded to open Weibo and show Stanley the story about Tom Sullivan, Emily Quest, and Xyla Quest’s past. After attentively going through the story, Stanley’s cold gaze landed upon Tom’s picture. In the picture, Tom was playing golf. “Is this the guy?” Stanley asked. “Yes, that’s him.” “Why is he so ugly?” Stanley appeared disgusted. “He isn’t that ugly. Tom Sullivan is considered a famous and handsome man in Atlantis. He looks rather dashing, much like a gentleman.” “Your eyesight is getting poor. I suggest you donate your eyes.” ‘Erm…’

"Alright, I think so." I clicked my tongue, reaching for the remote on the kitchen counter and turning on the TV. I browsed shows on the streaming platform, landing at Grey's Anatomy. There was something soothing about complicated medical afflictions and soap opera-style drama. There was an ad before the show came on, and I rolled my eyes. My multimillionaire brother ought to pay extra to avoid these, but no. Equally so, as the ad had been for a Tom Ford fragrance and featured soccer player Marcello Sarratore. He reclined on a gold dune in the center of the desert, perspiration trickling down his bronzy, chiseled six-pack. Black, styled curls graced the expanse of his giant chest, with thick

So maybe it's better that he is not here. “So, here’s the things we know about the killer. Firstly his targets are all renowned and prominent men in our country. Until now he has had three victims. Mr. Arik Watson- 48 years old. Estimated time of death 1st April 2020, 3.30 A.M. He was a prosecutor who won several awards for bringing justice to the people. Dr. Robert Jonson- 54 years old. Estimated time of death 12th July 2020, 3.50 A.M. He was one of the best general surgeons in our country. Mr. James Brown -50 years old. Estimated time of death 23th January 2021, 3.45 A.M. He was the founder and the Chairman of J.B. Garments company.” And with that, Mr. Anderson gave each of his teammates