Top Suspense Mystery Books Novels & Stories

Her Chosen Mate (Book 3) *** 1. Can't Help Falling in Love (Book 1) 2. Purchased By The Mafia (Book 2) 3. Her Mysterious Lover (Book 3) 4. My Girlfriend is Mafia Queen (Book 4) 5. Loving A Mafia (Book 5)- Upcoming **** 1. Chosen By An Alpha (Stand-Alone) No One POV . A loud wailing could be heard from a child who was crying because of the hunger, but her father, on the other side, was busy in fucking someone else. Tears came out from a four-month-old infant due to suffocation and hunger.

Somehow. He stepped closer. One hand sliding the book back into place. “Excuse me,” he said. “Do you have the second book in this series?” His voice. She dropped the pen in her hand. It clattered on the counter. She didn’t pick it up. Her heart began to race. Her fingers trembled. She swallowed. “What?” she asked, blinking. “Which series?” He held up the spine. It was some contemporary mystery, a generic enough title. She could barely focus.

A/n: hey amazing reader! Thanks for stopping by to read my book, I urge you not to stop reading because this book is quite an interesting thriller you don't want to miss every suspense of it. Reading this book is just like watching a suspense thriller movie😉 you know what I'm saying huh? Show your support by rating and commenting on the homepage and also remember to recommend to friends & family! Let's dive into episode 01! ~~~••••°°°°~~~|•°°°°

The ancient tome lay open before me, its pages a labyrinth of inscrutable symbols and faded script that murmured of a time long forgotten. The musty scent of the library mingled with the potent tang of old leather, wrapping around my senses as I bent closer to study the enigmatic text. Curiosity clawed at my mind, sharpening my focus until nothing existed beyond the cryptic messages waiting to be unraveled. ... (Time Travel: revelation of the mystery book) EDEN BENTLEY'S POV

Twelve o’clock. Elliot frowned. Something about the sound was off—too sharp, too metallic. He moved toward the clock, his instincts kicking in. When he opened the clock’s glass face, he found another note tucked behind the pendulum. It was written in the same precise handwriting as before. One of you will be next before nightfall. The room went completely still. For the first time, Elliot noticed the chandelier above them swaying gently, though there was no breeze. Someone—or something—was already watching.

French toast, strawberry chops and turkey slices. And a can of coke. Unusual! "Something like what?" He asked, leaning back. "urrrrgh," I scanned the room until my eyes fell on the bookrack in front of me. "This!" I pull out one of the novels. “Behind Her Eyes by Sarah Pinborough,” he said immediately, without even glancing at it. He could tell which of the books were missing by just looking at the rest on the rack. “You read it?” There's suspicion in his tone.

As I listened to the news anchor's report, I could not help but think there was some truth to the saying that after the storm is when the flowers bloomed. When did I start getting suspicious of Vonn and his crew? Oh, right. It was after I handed over $15,000 to some dude claiming to be Vonn's ex. The more I mulled it over, the more things did not add up. I headed to the police station to share my suspicions. I thought they would laugh me off, but boy, was I in for a surprise. It turned out there had been a string of killings in town, and all the victims were rich, bachelor types living alone.

The bookstore smells like it always has—old paper, lavender sachets tucked between shelves, the faint metallic tang of the ancient radiator that clanks every twelve minutes. Elena's already in our corner when I arrive. Second floor. Mystery section. The window seat we claimed sophomore year when we discovered this place and decided civilized people read mysteries in natural light. She's got coffee. Two cups. Mine's still steaming. I take it without speaking. Sip. Perfect. "Ten minutes late." Elena doesn't look up from the window. "Parallel parking a moving truck on Seventh?"

Room 8 was at the very end. I took a deep breath, the air burning my lungs. The door handle was cold under my trembling hand. I pushed it open. The room was shrouded in shadow, save for a single candle flickering on a small table. A tall, broad-shouldered man sat in a chair with his back to me. A wave of dread, as thick as the air itself, washed over me. "You came," he said, his voice a low, familiar growl. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I froze in the doorway, my body a statue of sheer terror. The voice was a ghost from a past I didn't remember.

The possibilities swirl in my mind as I approached the door, my heart pounding in anticipation. Taking a deep breath, I walked into the room. It was just the way I had left it, with it's elegent furnishing and faint scent of lavender still lingering in the air, but now there's an added layer of mystery, as if the room holds a secret waiting to be uncovered. My eyes sweep over the surroundings, searching for any sign or presence of a hidden clue. My gaze landed upon a worn leather, bound book resting on her desk. It stood out admist the near stack of papers and stationaries, as if i had been recently used. I intrigued, I approached the desk and ran my fingers over the books weathered over, it