Dear Mr M

Once a celebrated writer, M had his greatest success with a suspense novel based on a real-life disappearance: a history teacher who went missing one winter after having a brief affair with a beautiful student of his. The teacher was never found. Upon publication, M's novel was a runaway bestseller, an international breakthrough. Now M's career is fading. But why is his bizarre, seemingly timid neighbor keeping a close eye on him and his wife?

'An absolute page-turner' Mail on Sunday Dear Mr. M, I'd like to start by telling you that I'm doing better now. I do so because you probably have no idea that I was ever doing worse. Much worse, in fact, but I'll get to that later on. Mr. M is being watched. As a famous writer, he is no stranger to the limelight, although interest in his work has been dwindling of late. His print runs are smaller than they used to be, as are the crowds at his bookshop signings . . . Our narrator clearly takes a keen interest in M.'s work, and indeed in every aspect of his life. But what exactly are his intentions? And to what does Mr. M owe the honour of his undivided attention? Our narrator seems to be no stranger to murder, while his own story appears to bear more than a passing resemblance to the plot of Mr. M's most famous novel: a teacher has an affair with a student, only to be brutally murdered by the girl and her teenage boyfriend. The body is never found. That's the problem with fiction: in real life, bodies have an awkward habit of turning up. Mr. M has used some artistic licence, and our narrator is not pleased, not pleased at all. And just before he fades into obscurity, he's prepared to give Mr. M one last review. And it's unlikely to be a rave. Dear Mr. M is an unsettling and irresistibly readable literary thriller, set in the world of writing and bookselling, by Herman Koch, the author of the international bestseller, The Dinner.

This book "renders the singular arc of a woman's life through letters Mary-Louise Parker composes to the men, real and hypothetical, who have informed the person she is today. Beginning with the grandfather she never knew, the letters range from a missive to the beloved priest from her childhood to remembrances of former lovers to an homage to a firefighter she encountered to a heartfelt communication with the uncle of the infant daughter she adopted"--

“Katherine Reay's Dear Mr. Knightley kept me up until 2:00 a.m.; I simply couldn't put it down." —Eloisa James, New York Times best-selling author of Once Upon a Tower Samantha Moore has always hidden behind the words of others—namely, her favorite characters in literature. Now, she will learn to write her own story—by giving that story to a complete stranger. Sam is, to say the least, bookish. An English major of the highest order, her diet has always been Austen, Dickens, and Shakespeare. The problem is, both her prose and conversation tend to be more Elizabeth Bennet than Samantha Moore. But life for the twenty-three-year-old orphan is about to get stranger than fiction. An anonymous, Dickensian benefactor (calling himself Mr. Knightley) offers to put Sam through Northwestern University’s prestigious Medill School of Journalism. There is only one catch: Sam must write frequent letters to the mysterious donor, detailing her progress. As Sam’s dark memory mingles with that of eligible novelist Alex Powell, her letters to Mr. Knightley become increasingly confessional. While Alex draws Sam into a world of warmth and literature that feels like it’s straight out of a book, old secrets are drawn to light. And as Sam learns to love and trust Alex and herself, she learns once again how quickly trust can be broken. Reminding us all that our own true character is not meant to be hidden, Reay’s debut novel follows one young woman’s journey as she sheds her protective persona and embraces the person she was meant to become. “Dear Mr. Knightley is a stunning debut—a pure gem with humor and heart.” —Serena Chase, USA Today Includes Reading Group Guide Plus Bonus Material: Q & A with Katherine Reay and Sam’s Reading List

Parker, I never meant for any of this to happen, to fall for you. It doesn't matter that we're both adults, or how much we want this to work. The college policy is clear. I can't see a way around this without one of us getting hurt. If I would've known who you were when we met online, I would have never pursued a relationship. I'm new to all of this, and besides my daughter, getting to know you has been the best thing to ever happen to me. But I can't make you hide again. I won't. It's not fair to either of us. Deepest regrets, Donovan **** Dear Mr. Brody, You're right, we are adults. I'm twenty-four years old, and I think I can decide for myself what's best for me. If this is about you losing your job, I'll walk away. But if this is you trying to protect me, then you're an idiot. I want you. I care about you. My past isn't an issue. What we're doing... it isn't the same thing. If we have to hide, so be it. I'm not ready to let you go. Your Lost Boy, Parker Dear Mr. Brody is a 93,000-word interconnected standalone, contemporary, MM slow burn romance that is light on angst and features, dating app shenanigans, student/professor fraternization, single dad swoonery, waffles, "Peter Pan" references, and a fish named Tony. TW: Brief mention of a past assault on page without graphic detail.

I have a crush on Mr. Lee, the chairman of the board at O'Connell, Thompson, and Taylor Enterprises, the company where I clean. One night, I get a little tipsy and blurt out to him, "You're so freaking hot. I want to have your baby." FML. To my surprise, he ends up taking my words seriously... ***A standalone story in the OTT Enterprises series featuring alpha male businessmen and the women they want to make theirs. Warning: this story is full of over-the-top instalove! Enjoy!*** WORD COUNT: 4,500 Excerpt: "I'm sorry for inconveniencing you," I say. And I'm sorry for saying I want to have your baby. I'm too embarrassed to say the second apology out loud. "You're not an inconvenience." He touches my hair, causing electricity to go through my body. Should he be touching my hair like that? But I can't deny that a part of me likes him touching me. He nods at the food. "You should eat before your breakfast gets cold." For some reason, he stares at me as I eat. I'm tempted to ask him, What are you looking at? But I don't want to jeopardize my job any further, so I eat in silence. Fortunately, the food is delicious enough that I'm (mostly) able to ignore him. After I finish my orange juice, I let out a breath and tell him, "Um, I'm sorry about what I said last night. It was unprofessional, and I hope it won't affect my employment — " "I don't want you working anymore." I blink. "What?" "I don't want you cleaning the office anymore." Tears sting my eyes. I want to shout curses at him, but he is justified in firing me. I drank stolen champagne on company property. I'm considering going on my knees and begging him to reconsider his decision when he says: "I can't have the mother of my children be on her feet all day." Additional keywords: Asian heroine romance, Asian hero, diverse romance, steamy romance short stories

In this imaginative retelling of Pride and Prejudice, Amanda Grange now tells the classic story through the eyes of its compelling romantic hero, Fitzwilliam Darcy—in a series of revealing letters that casts a sparkling new reflection on the manners and morals of the landed gentry in 19th-century England… Here, for the first time, are the letters written by the exceedingly proud and stubborn Mr. Darcy, covering the life-changing events that defined him—from the death of his father, to his control of his Derbyshire estate of Pemberley to his conflicted courtship with the lively, intelligent, and delightfully willful Elizabeth Bennet. Try as he may, he cannot deny his attraction to this woman with fine eyes, a playful spirit, a mind of her own… and an embarrassing family that is frankly, and utterly, beneath him. But it is Elizabeth who controls both their destinies, and whose surprises will change Darcy’s life yet again.