Adventure Fiction Books Novels & Stories

“I hope so. Maybe a good book, too.” “Nonfiction or fiction?” He turned and faced her. “On vacation? Fiction. Before bed, non-fiction.” “Why non-fiction before bed?” “I like the fiction books too much. I won’t sleep. I have to know what the next chapter is. Does the dragon devour the town? Do the aliens win? How does the pauper become a prince? What about you?” the man asked. “Fiction or non-fiction?” “Fiction. I am a sucker for a good romance. And Dr. Seuss, of course, but that’s more on a professional level.”

Andrew explains as he shrugs, "That's what I told you! Wolfies only exist in books today." Fictional books... Unlike in my day, books are all about facts about werewolves. Only a few novel types. Most titles of the books here are stating someone without actually telling their names: The Rogue Alpha, The Despicable Luna, The Rejected Beta... My Silver Wolf!? But what happened? Why are they fiction if I exist? "Auntie," Linly mumbles, "do we have to know about werewolves today? We should just go back since we can't find any clue."

I went inside and climbed the spiral staircase. I reached the top of the tower, it was a cozy and comfortable room, with a quilt and dozens of pillows on the ground. The view of the surrounding forest was breathtaking. I found a bunch of books. I randomly selected a book, sat down and started reading. I read stories and legends about distant kingdoms in time and space, about werewolves, vampires, dragons and mythical creatures. I felt like Rita in Wonderland falling into a rabbit hole.

Just the soft rustle of pages and the comforting scent of old books. Only in stories, he thought, could he travel across oceans, through time, into the hearts of strangers without moving an inch, without lifting a finger. It was within ink and parchment that he found the most vivid adventures. Adventures that never asked him to sacrifice his stillness in exchange for wonder. And so, with his limbs weary but his mind slowly awakening, Arnav reached for a book. The kind of book that didn’t just pass the time, but gently stitched a man back together.

For a second, I’m tempted, but then another wave of heat erupts in my chest, and I lose my nerve. “Tell me about the other books,” I say instead. “The other books?” I nod. And as I tuck my knees to my chest and wind my free arm around my knees, breathing through the stuffiness that’s getting more unbearable by the minute, I listen to the most garbled plot summaries I’ve ever heard in my entire life. “Okay. See, there’s this one with a man and his nephew. And they journey to the center of the earth. And there are dinosaurs. And a tornado? Shit—” The brow furrows again. “It might have been a tsunami. Something like that.”

The day had been long and tiring, full of unexpected events. I bent over to set the alarm for tomorrow and reached for my book. I have been engrossed in a collection of traditional fairytales with a mafia spin. They were captivating, and I cherished the quiet moments when I could indulge in reading them. Stephanie Swann was one of my favourite authors, and I loved the worlds she created in her books, especially the morally ambiguous male characters and fierce female leads. After devouring three chapters, I glanced at the clock and sighed in disappointment, realizing I would have to wait until tomorrow to read more.

I missed my mate, my freedom, my friends, Kailin, and everyone at the vineyards. I watched a series about a group of delinquent kids born in space and dropped to Earth to see if the air was already breathable. I finished Episode twelve, and when a particular character pissed me off, I turned it off and went to read something in the study. There were some fiction books, but primarily old books from Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, and Herman Melville. There were self-help and meditation books and a book about mystical creatures. I walked out of the study. If she allowed me to read a book about witchcraft, it might interest me, but that would be as dangerous as walking into the darkness without

She'd have been in less of a state right now if it hadn't taken her two days to work up the courage to open it. She could still feel the way her heart rate quickened as she untied the brown craft string and gently tore at the seams of the paper. She recalled the confusion as she found herself staring at a shoebox for a pair of R.M. Williams Craftsman boots. Men's, size 10. "Peculiar...." she thought to herself as she lifted the lid of the box. Hidden under a few layers of tissue paper was a book she had never seen before. A lump formed in her throat as she inspected the cover—"Chance, Fate & Chocolate Cake: When Adventure Calls, Don't Hesitate. By Callum Buchanan." The author's name caused h

He said and hurried to wipe his tears. "Tss. Why did you cry? You can't even remember my life. This is more like a fantasy story like you read in w*****d stories." I promise here. I don't read W*****d. Misha is the lover, I only hear about his stories. He likes to read gangster stories. Then he imagined that I was a female gangster. He has a story he wants to tell, what is the title now?... Monster High? No, that's not it... Mon... Mon... Montello High? Yeah, that's it because he has reread it several times and he still wants me to read it too like what the hell? I don't like reading that mushy stuff, and besides the stories are exaggerated too much, but Misha is an addict, or maybe I just d

I'll make mine. - RP is a very exciting tale that includes Romance, Adventure, YA/NA, Fantasy, Sci fi (in other books), Action and maybe even Horror. So If you're ready for his Action-Adventure packed book... READ ON.