A Blake Barnes Series #1 I'm gonna tell you my story. Normally, stories are either romantic, family type or flat out drama where nothing makes sense. This story is about two friends who overcame- you know what that sounds so cliche. Except this story that I'm going to tell you, well it's true. In how I met this serious British kid, with no sense of fun, claimin' to be a writer, journalist, what ever- with a nose that always seemed to be stuck into trouble and how he literally dragged me all over the plac- "Blake, if you are going to tell the story, do not over exaggerate it. We don't need anymore of drama, please? Fix claimin' into claimin'g'. We are not in the old west. Yes, I understand you are from Wyoming but we don't need your accent." "Rowan, stop it! I don't need your editing right now, I'm the one telling the story. Now get off!" "I'm using my own laptop to edit your story, Ms.I-want-to-be-a-writer-too. Guys, I promise you it would be a whole lot more better if we both tell you the story. Women always tend to over exaggerate things, so here goes nothing." "ROWAN!" ";P."

A Blake Barnes Series #2 She had gotten herself head over heels in this and now she couldn't turn back. Rowan was right. She would be alone in this, no one there to help her. The worst gut feeling came when she realized the car behind her was following her. Gripping the steering wheel, Blake inspected the car. It looked like a family car, not something more expensive. That didn't matter to her, what mattered was the fact that it kept tailgating her. "Not yet," Blake begged as she grabbed hold of the stick. The car suddenly turned off to a park on the side of the road, revealing a family of four getting out. Throwing her head back, Blake groaned. How was she suppose to get these formulas to the Professor? People would be after her...Her paranoia was starting to grow.

The pounding head was the thing that woke Ike Harrison up. He groaned softly as he pushed himself off the ground. Once he managed to focus his eyesight, he saw that it was midnight. Grabbing his clean shirt, he finally pulled it over himself. He made his way into the bathroom to check himself. He looked worse than he felt as he touched the gash on his head. Wincing slightly, Ike grabbed the bath towel, pressing it against his gash. As he did that, the room phone rang. Ike only stared at it but it kept ringing. He walked over to it, picking it up. "Who is this?" "The front desk, Mr.McGrath. You asked me to call you at midnight so you wouldn't be late for your business meeting." "McGrath?" "Yes, sir?" "Who are you calling McGrath?" "You, sir. You checked in this afternoon." "It's suppose to be under Harrison! Ike Harrison." "No sir, we don't have anybody under that name. Our computers have been malfunctioning but we have you registered as Irving McGrath, staying with us until tomorrow." Ike set the phone down slowly, staring out at the city below him. In what mess had he stepped into?