52 Book Club 2023: February Mini Challenge - Set In Winter นิยาย & เรื่องราว

This book will be full of adventures and mystery. Later in winter 2023, I would also like to do another book bearing the title: Buck Off Alpha – She’s Mine! So I’ll be here. See you soon! Love always, O’Chantal. ^~^

The words lodged in Aria’s chest like a pebble in a shoe. She forced her smile wider. “Yeah,” she said. “Happily ever after.” Lena finished her makeup. “Come on,” she said, grabbing her bag. “We’re going to be late.” - - - The café was already humming when they arrived. The evening rush had thinned but not disappeared. Mia sighed when she saw them. “Finally!” she said, subtly pointing. “We’ve got a book club in the corner, they asked for five cinnamon buns and three lattes. One with sugar, two without.”

Her actions reveal her resolute decision, leaving Jax puzzled about Audrey's sudden departure. Audrey arrives at the "Midnight Club" and scans the surroundings, searching for Luke. The club is still in the process of being prepared for the night, with workers sweeping the floors. She spots Luke engaged in conversation with the staff members at the bar. Determined, she strides towards him and directly announces her intention, "I am leaving."

Mia says fanning her face. Oh yeah, somehow in the past two weeks us girls have been getting together on Fridays to discuss our book of the week, kind of like a book club I suppose? Tonight we’re at Steph and Julian’s house while X and Julian are downstairs playing pool. “Fuck me that was such a hot chapter!” Alina squeals and then takes a big gulp from her glass of wine. “I’m telling you guys, you need to role-play that scene! Julian and I did last night,” Steph beams.

The snow crunched under Felicia’s boots as she stepped out of the rental car, the cold biting at her cheeks while the promise of heat waited inside. The cabin sat alone on the ridge, dark timber against blinding white, smoke already curling from the stone chimney like an invitation. December 22nd. Two weeks of nothing but quiet, her best friend had said. A gift to reset. Felicia’s laugh had been brittle when she’d accepted the keys—reset from what? The breakup still stung, but more than that, her body felt restless, electric, like a wire stripped bare and humming.

Walls made of politeness and distance and the careful avoidance of anything that might lead to hurt. Oliver didn’t try to tear the walls down. He just… sat beside them. Quietly. Patiently. Until one day, I found myself opening the door. After a book club meeting in early November. We’d been discussing a novel about a woman who leaves her husband and starts over in a small town. The conversation had been heated—Lena loved it, Jenna hated it, Carlos had cried three times—and by the end, I was exhausted. I lingered after everyone left, helping Martha stack chairs.

One year later The bi-annual matchmaker’s party was in full swing as the newest members of the club mingled about with the olders ones. Most were interns looking for mentorship oppurtunities, and some had just broken into the world of the elite looking for guidance. There were also some wedding planners roaming about, getting their exposure and making connections. The Billionaire’s Matchmaking Club was an instant success, more so than Hugo and I had ever anticipated. The two of us stood at the balcony of the HQ’s mansion, looking down into the garden with rose champagne in our hands.

Fang City Books hosted several types of book clubs. Tonight, her thoughts kept straying to her old lover, Dex. She wondered where he was, and what he was doing ,but she pushed away thoughts of him. That was another life. Julia, one of the younger members, was already in the backroom at the bookstore. It looked out on the alley where a few of the town's bars sat. Periodically someone would stumble past after a few too many drinks. "They really should clean up this town," Julia said. "Don't you like to go to bars?"

The distant sound of Christmas bells rang out with a bong. Immediately after, fireworks exploded across the sky outside the window, illuminating the pitch-black night with red, green, and gold colors. Faint cheers could be heard in the distance. Midnight came, and the door to the private room remained tightly shut. Nobody pushed the door open and came in, nor did anyone get down on their knees. The smile froze on Dad's face. He stared at the door as if trying to bore a hole through it with his gaze. One minute passed. Two minutes. Five minutes.

I find I like February for exactly this reason. The pack house has settled into its winter rhythm, which is slower than the rest of the year, more internal, the specific pace of a community that has turned toward itself for the cold months. Council meetings are shorter. The correspondence is less urgent. The days end early and the evenings are long and the study fire burns through most of them. I have been reading Calla’s founding record in the evenings.