Wreck Game Novels & Stories

You have, haven’t you? Or are you dead? Did those wild dogs finally get you? If they did, I should really go and thank them. Or maybe I can pick up some pieces from your bones and hang them around my neck. Joking! I don't want you dead. Just… Troy looks up and taps with her pen. How did she want him? So destroyed that he couldn't love anyone else? Just… broken…I want you broken… like me. PS: I hate you, you know.

Evangeline's Pov Marcus called me Tuesday afternoon and I knew from his tone that something was wrong. "David Aaronis gone," he said. "What do you mean gone?" "I mean he disappeared. The security team I hired went to check on him this morning and the safe house was empty. No sign of Aaron, no sign of his family, no sign that anyone had been there in the last twenty four hours." I felt my stomach drop. "Did he run?" "Maybe. Or someone took him."

l asked. Isabella quit the dive bar last week after landing a highly coveted job at the Valhalla Club, a members-only society for the world's wealthiest and most powerful. My father had been trying to gain admission for years, but the Boston chapter was closed to new applicants, and our family wasn't connected enough to slip through the back door.

"Clinging to the hollow shell of a marriage? You make it sound so noble. It's you who's been pestering Susanne all along. Yet, you still dare to say, right to my face, that Susanne is your wife? "You must have a death wish for trying to hit on my fiancee. I'm gonna make sure the whole world sees what a shameless homewrecker you are!" Stanley blocked the door to stop anyone from entering or leaving the restroom, then pulled out his phone to record a video. "Check this out, everyone. This homewrecker has been trying to seduce my fiancee. My fiancee ignored him, but he still wouldn't give up. Now he's followed us all the way to our workplace. Are homewreckers these days really this shameless?"

END GAME Book Two in the Dawson Family Series Copyright 2018 Emily Goodwin Chapter One Quinn I don’t know what hurts worse: my wrist or my stomach. The pain there is more concerning, and my wrist could be broken in two and my mind would still be on my baby. I know it takes a lot to hurt a baby this early in the pregnancy, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying. I flatten my hand over my stomach, looking at the spot where the guy was just standing. I’m shocked, scared, and unable to figure out why he looked so familiar.