Adrift Book Novels & Stories

The Story of Russell and Samantha: NOTE, THIS EPISODE IS TAKEN FROM 'NOT YOUR AVERAGE GEEK', A STORY BY THE SAME AUTHOR CURRENTLY LEFT ON-HOLD. ***** I woke up drenched in sweat. It's almost November, yet California weather is as always; unpredictable.

“Come in before you freeze to death.” Marcus stepped aside immediately. “Get inside, quickly.” I stumbled in, water dripping everywhere. The cabin was small but warm, with a stone fireplace crackling and a few sturdy wooden chairs and a couch. “I’m Scarlett,” I said, teeth chattering. “My car broke down about half a mile back. No signal on my phone. Can I stay here until the rain stops or I can get help?” Noah closed the door behind me. “Of course. I’m Noah. This is Marcus. We’re also stuck here because of the storm. We came for a quiet writing trip.”

It's my fault I couldn't protect him…" By the end, Irene was nearly inconsolable. She pressed a hand to her abdomen, her entire body weighed down by grief. Lester couldn't help recalling Natalie's miscarriage two years ago. She had lain silent, staring at the ceiling. His chest ached, and an urgent need to find Natalie was overwhelming him. Seeing him frozen, Irene's look of grievance deepened, and she gently tugged on his sleeve. "Les, our child is gone. Aren't you sad?"

Adir read the book carefully, suddenly he was startled by the sound of the book hitting the table because of its weight. "What are you doing?" asked Adir in a surprised tone. "I'm sorry, the books in your family are all very interesting," Altair replied with a cheerful face. "See! I had to fly some books around me," added Altair while showing the many books in his hand and he brought the books that floated using Altair's magic. "Are you seriously going to read all this?" asked Adir curiously. "Of course, I'll read all yours." replied Altair excitedly.

I hope you are too, and would be ever so humbled if you let me know what you thought of my little part two. Being able to explore my characters through their own points of view was an eye opening experience, and I hoped you loved tuning into Dalton, Kendra, and Jake's thoughts just as much as the lead's, Hollis and Whitney's. Despite this book taking five months to write, a month less than two of my other novels, "Not All Who Wander Are Lost" is by far my longest book, nearing 600 pages. I couldn't avoid it since there was so much I wanted to cover, and there are no regrets.

The only thing I’m happy about was that I managed to wound her left eye. As my eyes scroll down the list, I notice something. One of the titles has the status: misplaced. Something strikes me, and although it might be useless, I check the shelf number and hurry over to where the books should have been. Climbing on the ladder, I poke around but see nothing. Disappointed, I’m about to climb back down when something catches my eye. There’s something stuck in the back.

Volumes that had been ribs and limbs and vertebrae a heartbeat earlier juddered, then shook loose, tumbling in awkward cascades. Hardcovers slammed into the sea of paper with sodden thuds. Paperbacks burst apart mid‑air, their spines popping, pages fanning out in chaotic sprays. Loose sheets tore themselves free and whirled up, then dropped in slow, disorganized drifts, no longer obeying any central gravity. The chains sagged. Their slack weight dragged them down into the drift, bookmarks and metal links sinking like debris. Ink leaked from the creature’s ruined eyes and joints, puddling under what had been its feet. The puddles met and merged, forming wide, black slicks that reflected nothi

I frantically tried to search his deep ocean blue eyes for help, but the eyes that were staring back at me were not his. The eyes that glared back at me were as black as the night's sky, and seeing those jet-black pools sparked something deep inside my brain. Visions of the morning’s nightmare quickly flooded my mind and took over every sense that I had. I couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't speak, as it silently dragged me back into its deadly grasp. *** Tristan Cole Freya lifted her head up and I guessed that she wanted me to kiss her. Damn, I could do so much more to her right now. She smelled amazing, and I could hear her heart racing, every time my fingers or lips caressed her skin.

🪷ISORA🪷 The drizzling was cold and relentless, soaking into the stone beneath my back, dripping from the ends of my hair, running in rivulets down my neck and between my breasts. Adrian's thumb continued its slow, torturous circles on my clit, and I could feel myself trembling, shaking, falling apart beneath his hands, but it was not enough. His finger was still inside me, just one, and I could feel the emptiness around it, the ache of wanting more, needing more, needing to be stretched and filled and claimed.

I drink. Cold water. Quiet air. Finally enough space to breathe. The pressure in my ribs eases. The world stops feeling too small. Then the wind shifts. Alara panicked inside me. They will not get near you Alara. Two wolves. Fast. Strong. Coming hard. I lift my head. A massive dark wolf bursts into the meadow—Drago. Adrian’s wolf. Powerful. Uncontrolled. Snarling. Behind him, Bloodfang—Aldrich’s wolf—steady, grounded, watching.