Tom Tate Novels & Stories

On that last morning, we all stood outside in the muggy, hazy air, everyone making uncomfortable small talk and stupid jokes as the clock ticked on. Finally, Joe clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "You better get on the road, bud. Long drive ahead of you. And what time are you supposed to meet Tate?" Leo was sharing the drive with another Carolina freshman football player, this one from Gatbury, the next town over from us. He'd met Tate Durham over the summer, through Leo's friend Matt Lampert, and they'd hit it off. Tate was one of the few decent football guys I'd met, and I noticed he seemed to have a good influence on Leo.

Tattooed. "Dude, did your car just hit something?" North tried to be a friend. "Yeah, I like to do that." Denis, on the other hand, drew the line too clearly. Marra chuckled. "Are you going to drive this car now?" The tattooed man shook his head. "No, he needs to be fixed soon. I can ask Matthew to pick him up." "Do it now, and I don't have much time to keep you company any longer standing in this place."

To be safe, I better keep my guard up just in case. The responsible party for Mom's temporary happiness is some guy named Tom who also happens to be a big tipper. Apparently, right after Mom started her new waitressing job he became one of her regulars and "totally digs" her first name. Especially the way she spells Daisee with a double E because "it's just about the cutest thing he's ever seen." Barf.

Tanner’s POV I want to stall time as much as I can. Demanding for a lawyer is my way of stalling time. I don’t know what to do again. As I was thinking about what to do, an elderly man walked inside the interrogation room. He looked familiar, I was wondering where I knew him from. I remembered seeing him near old Morgan at the press conference. “My name is Tom, an agent.” This cleared all my doubts. I will never forget that name my whole life.

It came off as a question. The man, his dark blond brows coming together. He’s Tate? My mouth almost drops open. “I met with a lady the last time?” I add, and I assume Tate was short for Tatum. “My assistant” his voice is deep and manly, he looks to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. Dirty blond hair combed back, a strand falling over his eyebrow as he stares at me. Blinking slowly. I blink repeatedly. So much begins to make sense, He's Tate Malcom of Malcom Holdings. when I saw the name attached to a woman I didn't think much of it, if I'm not mistaken, he is the CEO of Malcom Holdings and one of New York's most eligible bachelors.

Carter. *************************************************

She won’t leave and I’m about to have it rough. I managed to negotiate opening another branch of my company here. This is what brought me here and since I got the deal, I have one more mission to accomplish and it has to do with tomboy. I’m looking for her. I’m not giving up. Trey Jones doesn’t give up and my dad taught me better. I wipe myself and walk back into the room. I settle for black jeans, a white t-shirt and black boots. I take the phone and dial Eddie’s number.

“How you doin’, Hunt?” How do you think I’m doing? “Good,” he said, because what else was there to say? “What can I do for you?” No sense wasting time on pleasantries. Tom Webster wouldn’t be calling just to bullshit. Hunter went back to sit on the couch and picked up the pen he’d been using, fiddling with it to keep his free hand busy. “You ready for tomorrow?” Tom asked without preamble. The owner and president of Titanium Security didn’t believe in pussy footing around, which was just as well because Hunter didn’t either.

I'm not even sure how to describe him. “Where to start, oh gosh. His name was Adam, and he was the definition of tall, dark, and sexy.” I say giving Audrey big eyes, and fanning my face dramatically. “He was very forward, not shy about telling me what he was thinking or what he wanted.” “Oh, I bet not,” she says wiggling her brows and giggling. “I wish you got pictures of these boys, Kat, so we could compare both your options.” I roll my eyes, drinking down the rest of my coffee.

She waved and smiled. Arlo continued, "and this big guy over here is Tom. He'll be captaining the other raft." He motioned toward a tall, well-muscled man with wavy brown hair and a beard. The guy reminded me of Magnum PI. "Tom is from New Zealand and can teach you all sorts of cool Kiwi phrases." "Right you are," Tom said with a very pronounced Kiwi accent and a broad smile.