Truly Indie Novels & Stories

Humans are busy chasing money and fame. Disgusting actions. Even me.

“Did you finish that spreadsheet I asked you for? I need it for page three of the report.” “I think so,” Renee replied. She stopped spinning in her chair and focused on her computer for what felt like the first time in ages. “I thought I already sent it to you. I replied to one of your silly emails that you signed ‘Yours Truly, Ekaterina Ryder.’” Kat sighed. “I didn’t get it.” “Well, it’s around here somewhere. Let me send it to you again.” Kat took a deep breath. This project was her best idea yet. Shoesy, Inc. was the largest online retailer of designer shoes, handbags, and clothing. The company was booming, yet there was always left over merchandise sitting in the warehouses. Kat’s idea m

“He owned the lemon orchard I used to start my business. I met him when I was a teenager. I told you, I spent the summer that followed the Miriam incident at my grandparents’ horse ranch. The Don came to buy a pair of horses for his stables. He and I spent hours talking about the theory of organic farming and how to reduce greenhouse gases. I called him a few years later and asked if I could use his orchard to try an experiment. He agreed and within a short time, I purchased his land and began manufacturing the fruit in various products. He is also a limited partner in three hotels I own, but that is only because he wanted a place to stay when he travels. It is easier for him than leasing.”

NEPA just brought light (electricity) so I might update this night or tomorrow morning. Till then💙💙 I love you. 😊😊😊 Thanks for reading. Eseun! 😊😊😊😊

Because when the lights go out and everyone else is chasing parties or hookups, I’m in my tiny dorm room, fingers flying across the keyboard, writing the kind of stories that make people blush behind their phones. Anonymous submissions to the university literary magazine. No byline, just the pseudonym “Yours Truly.” Readers devour them. Comments flood the forums; filthy, hot and imaginative as hell. But there’s always that one recurring jab: “Bet the author’s a virgin. Those positions sound completely made-up.” It hurts because they’re right. I’ve never even kissed anyone properly, let alone done half the things I describe in graphic detail. My imagination runs wild, but reality? Locked and

“Dude, she beat me.” “Oh, please stop being such a baby, Brent! You started it in the first place!” “Whatever, dude!” Brent got out of my office, sulking. I mean every word I have said. It was so hard to please Mr. Hanada. Other companies are surprised that I got him signed. He was too ambitious and very perfectionist. I don’t know what spell Leona did during her presentation, but I’m glad she did. Muse Fragrance is the leading brand of perfume all over Europe. Top companies are dying to endorse it, and now that we got the contract, I am not losing it because of Brent’s ego.

Ynaria said sadly as she sighed. No one tried to talk to the three of them so silence enveloped them while waiting for their other colleagues. Moments later Paul, Dylan, Ryan, Helen and Wendy arrived. "Boss, we're all complete!" Paul said to Trist. "Okay, you all sit down and I have something important you should know," Trist began seriously. When all its workers were obedient, it began to speak. "First, I want to tell you that this resort is my property." All of Trist's workers were unbelievable by what they heard, seemingly surprised. Except for Clement this is the first to know.

Get him out of the industry! [Full support for Tiffany going solo and making real music!] She concluded by announcing she was opening her independent studio and cutting ties with my company. "I'll make authentic music," she said. "It will be hard, but I have Pierre and our child. That's good enough." The internet detonated, crowning me the ultimate villain. Company phones rang nonstop. Several promising young artists I had mentored sent subtle messages through their agents, hinting at contract termination. They feared being tainted by association with "the tyrannical capitalist".

I tilted my head, a mocking smile curving my lips, “Are you threatening me, Mr. Diego? Because if you are, you might want to think twice. I don’t take kindly to threats.” Carmen’s smile widened, his amusement evident, “Not a threat, just an observation. But I will give you a piece of advice, be careful who you trust. Alden isn’t exactly known for his loyalty, and neither are the people who work with him.” “And I’m supposed to trust you instead?” I shot back, my tone dripping with sarcasm. He smirked, taking a step back, “Trust is a dangerous game, Miss Nyx. Play it wisely.”

There was no satisfaction on her face, only a deep, heavy sadness. Meanwhile, the Bourns thrived with the wealth they had stolen from my father. That burning hatred was what brought me back. I was reborn on the day they forced me to sign that cursed agreement. "Fine," I said, my voice steady. "I'll sign." I picked up the pen and signed my name, Marshall Bourn. My handwriting was calm and firm. The three of them froze, staring at me in disbelief. They probably thought I would argue, or maybe break down in tears.