Too Late By Colleen Hoover Novels & Stories

“Don’t be suspicious. I’m just putting in some extra hours. The hot air balloons need maintenance too.” “What time will you be back?” I asked him again. “A little later.” “Okay. I’ve made your favorite dishes, so please come home soon.” As time went on, whenever I asked, his responses became more dismissive. “I’ll be back later.” All those ‘laters’ often stretched into the early hours of the morning. Then there was the night I had heated his meal several times already when my phone suddenly pinged with a notification. It was a post from Michelle.

This was the best possible ending for us. After the celebration party, I received an express package. It contained my mother’s records from the Veridia Design Institute. The sender was anonymous. I opened the file. On the last page was a note with a single sentence. [I hope you find your eternal freedom.] I threw the note into the trash without hesitation. Back in Veridia, my “Revenant” series opened for exhibition. On opening day, a reporter asked me, “Do you ever think about the past?” I smiled and gestured toward the songbird design in the exhibition hall.

Thank you all for choosing my book to read and for reading it to the end. I really appreciate the time spent reading this book and also every single single gift and coin that were giving. It means more to me than I can express. {If you love IT'S TOO LATE NOW and you would love to read another book of mine. You can check out DIVORCE: DEAR EX IT'S YOUR LOSS} These are few chapters I decided to post, I hope you all enjoy the story.

On the day before New Year's Eve, Alora Sheffield wants me to bring her a morning-after pill. Her red lips curve ever so slightly as she takes in my snow-dampened clothes. "What reward would you like for being so obedient?" I ignore her question and hand her the emergency contraceptive. "Here's the morning-after pill you wanted." As Alora takes the box, she reaches under my shirt and runs her hand over my abs. "We may as well get it on just this once, since I'm taking the pill anyway." I gape at her, but a second later, she bursts out laughing. "You should see the look on your face. “I’ve arranged a marriage for you. I raised you, so it’s time you repaid me. “You’ll do as I ask,

Victoria Graham told me we'd have to postpone getting our marriage license again just as I was picking up my fork. Victoria set down her cutlery, her tone as casual as if she were commenting on the weather. "Next time." I took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "Okay." She glanced at me, then lowered her head and reached for another bite. Before taking it, she looked up at me again. "You're not angry?" I took another bite and answered calmly, "I'm not." We'd been engaged for six months, and this was the 17th time she'd postponed getting our marriage license. She was used to it. So was I. I ate slowly and finished my meal, one mouthful at a time. She didn't touch her food again. After ta

Chloe said, trying to sound as confident and put-together as the perfectly arranged orchid on the desk. The woman glanced at a clock on the wall, then back at Chloe, her lips barely moving. “Applications closed at ten o’clock, Miss Brown. You are forty-seven minutes late. Mr. Overton is very particular about punctuality.” Chloe’s heart sank, but she plastered on her most earnest, persuasive smile—the one her uncle called the ‘Sympathy Sell.’

She carefully flipped it open. "16th August. My stomach's been hurting lately. Classmates took me to the hospital. Apparently, I have late-stage stomach cancer, and I only have three months left to live. I still owe my classmates the consultation fee. I told Mom about it, but she didn't believe me." "3rd September. My stomach's getting worse. Every day's torture. Sometimes I think death might be a release, but I still have the whole world to explore." "20th September. I don't think I can last three months. My body hurts everywhere. I think my release is coming sooner rather than later."

He suddenly gripped the edge of the vanity and dry-heaved, his knuckles turning bluish white from the force. Rapid footsteps sounded outside the door. The butler hurried in. "Sir, the guests have begun entering the hall..." "Take Mr. Hart out," Holden said, his voice cold as ice. Two security guards held up the swaying Lucas, but he suddenly broke free and knelt on the messy dressing room floor. "Nora, I'll transfer every asset I own to your name! Please give me one more chance..." "It's too late." I looked at him calmly. "Lucas, when you toyed with a sincere heart, you should have known this day would come."

Half a month had passed since I last saw him, so I already missed him dearly. However, as soon as I arrived at the airport, I ran into Quinton and Zachary. They both had sullen expressions, but their faces lit up immediately when they saw me. "Mom! I knew you would come! Are those tarts for me? Thank you for these!" Zachary eagerly snatched the box from my hand. Quinton said coldly, "I told you the deadline was before three o'clock. Do you know what time it is right now? You should learn a thing or two from Lynn when it comes to timeliness!"

In truth, we might not have been able to get together in the end, even without you entering the picture. "However, I simply can't tear myself away from him. By the time you read this letter, I will already be dead, and it's Niall who would have killed me. Since there's no way for me to be together with him in life, then it's not so bad to die and meet him in hell instead." Niall killed Chelsea, and Chelsea had somehow predicted her own death? Had she planned her own death then? And why would Niall be willing to bear the crime of being a murderer?