Amazon Kindle Jane Eyre Novels & Stories

We say our goodbyes and I toss my phone onto the couch next to me, looking around the room. It's quiet when Santos has the kids. Almost too quiet. And there's nothing to do. I've deep cleaned the entire apartment from top to bottom. I've done four loads of laundry and put it all away. I even threw dinner in the crockpot already, so my regular chores are done. I tap my fingers on my leg and the Kindle shoved between couch cushions catches my eye. Ooh. I could read for a bit. What is the name of that author I like? The one who writes about all those bearded brothers? Penelope Reads? Penny Reads? Penny Reid! That's it!

“Wait here, I’m going to give you something that will help you relax.” Before I could make a protest, she was gone out of my sight. Girl number eleven was now too close to Ace, as if she wanted to sit on her lap. She kept nudging for his biceps, rubbing her arms against Ace’s from time to time. Ace seemed to be oblivious of the lustful stares he was getting from the girls flocking around him. “Got it” Karen came back catching he breathe with three books in her hands. “Here.” “What am I going to do with these?” grabbing the offered books to me, the book on top was entitled ‘Fifty Shades of Grey.’

“No, it’s me. I’m being foolish. Of course you can—” “No,” she cried. I mean, it was incredibly touching that he was willing. But it was the last thing she wanted now that she understood what she’d actually been asking. “I mean, sheesh. Paper books? Who reads those anymore? I bet I could pick this up for 99p as an epub.” He gave a slight shaken laugh. She grabbed her phone and googled. “Well, okay, $11.99 if I pretend I’m American.” “Cole, I don’t mind.”

Instead, she sat quietly, waiting for him to return. In less than five minutes, Jason came back with a book in hand. He approached Iris and handed her the book. Looking up, Iris asked, "What's this?" "The answer you seek," Jason replied. Iris hesitantly took the book and flipped through it. It was a finance-related book — nothing particularly special at first glance. While rapidly turning the pages, she thought she caught a glimpse of a photo. She flipped back, fully unfolded the page and saw a photo of herself.

A photograph of Jessica Jane. Smiling.

It looked almost ordinary, which somehow made it more unsettling. Jane leaned closer immediately, curiosity winning over caution like it always did with her. She released my hand and carefully lifted the book off my chest, settling it between her palms like it might bite if mishandled. “It is English,” she said after a quick scan. Then her brows pulled together. “But… this is strange.” Sammy shifted beside the bed, impatience tightening his shoulders. “Does it even matter who wrote it. Just read the bloody content.” Jane shot him a look but did not argue. She cleared her throat and started reading from the beginning, her voice steady, analytical, stripping emotion away as if that would make

Clive's estate was on top of a hill, which gave me a view of the rest of the city spread out beyond the walls, lights gleaming in the dark, mist rolling across the bay, a bridge that looked like a dwarf from here. There was a candelabra on the wall opposite me. I looked up and sure enough, there was another lamp on the ceiling. Fumbling around, I found a cleverly hidden button that turned it on. The seat by the window was filled with warm light. I fluffed up the pillow and made myself comfortable, then flipped to the first page. Ever since I was little and first read Jane Eyre, I've wanted to have my own window seat, just like Jane's, a place to read and hide away from the real world.

Jane said sadly. "I'll help you if you teach me to take control of my powers," I told her handing the book. She smiled. I watched her as she spun through the book. If there's a chance to help someone find happiness I would be happy to do so. "Here you go," Jane placed the book before me. I looked at it strangely not being to read. "Are you okay?" Jane was worried about me. "I can't read." "I understand, but don't worry I'll help you once I find my real mom."

She clasped her hands behind her back, fixed her eyes somewhere on the ceiling, and let loose her usual torrent of words. "I read a wonderful book called, Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Brontë. It was written in 1847, but the characters in the book are so real that you feel as if they're living today. When I read this book, I felt as if I were Jane Eyre, a lonely, friendless orphan girl sent away to a cold, cruel boarding school where all the other girls despise her."

No one has found the bodies yet, though, so theres still a lingering hope out there that they're alive. I sigh as I crawl under the thick quilt, flicking on the lamo beside me as I pull out my latest find at Barnes and Nobels: The Winter Garden by the famous Kristin Hannah. This woman's books are truly amazing. Then, after an hour long reading session, I find my eyes beginning to shut against my will, so I set down the book on the bedside table and shut off the lamp. ~ The next morning...