Amish Novels Novels & Stories

Narrator- Alpha Asher backed away from the handmade crib, and stood at a distance with his arms crossed, as he admired his handiwork. The crib was painted white, the wood itself included carved images of wolves, stars, and the different phases of the moon. Asher smiled proudly, as he looked around the room decorated with shades of blue and yellow. The furnished space had everything necessary for a nursery, plush toys sat atop every furniture, and a mobile spun above the crib, with tiny wolves, moons, and pine trees. There was a nursing chair sitting in the corner next to the crib. There was also a small shelf, packed with books and bedtime stories.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello. Thank you in advance for reading my latest novel, The Prophecy: Amarah's Alpha. I hope you will enjoy the journey of our two main characters as well as their entourage. Just to let you know, this novel is written out of my imagination. The contents in the novel mentioned herein are of mine and does not represent the views and opinions of others. Any incident that will be written or mentioned herein, is in no way related or is purely coincidental.

I curled up on the floor, felt a rush of iron in my throat—and coughed up a mouthful of blood. That bright-eyed boy I used to be—the one who still had hope—faded into nothing. After that, I had nothing left to live for. Until just now, when this wretched, drifting life of mine finally ended. Matthew, your big brother is coming to join you. I've finally paid for my sin.

“I think we’re standing in the ashes of something that hasn’t finished burning.” I smiled faintly. “You always did love fire.” She didn’t smile back. “You always underestimate how long it smolders.” There it was again — that flicker in her eyes. The same one she had before a war began. Only now, there was no war to fight. Just ghosts she couldn’t name. AMARA By noon, the heat had settled thick over the coast. I found myself in the old library, fingers tracing the spines of books that had survived fire and blood. The scent of old parchment and sea salt was grounding — real.

For no matter what the enemy could do, as long as they were not deserving, the elixir would never exist in front of them. HER BLOOD was pumping deep inside her as she pushed a slightly ajar door. The door swung and crashed against the wall, earning her a few terrified looks. "M—Miss Lily!" A group of statled nuns rushed to her, although were stopped by the eldest of them. "Miss Lily Alston," she greeted, wearing an amicable smile despite the creases on her brows. "May we help you with your troubles?" Lily Alston breathed heavily and frantically looked around. Seeing none of the familiar small figure she needed to see, she quickly pushed past the nuns and entered the convent's backyard.

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"So, where did you end up going? If you weren't out partying till the wee hours of the morning, then you were probably staying up reading manhwa. Or a novel?." "Ah... You have to understand that I just can't stop myself, Esme; your books are just too fantastic!" Emma spoke in a whisper. It is inappropriate to reveal the fact that Esme is a novelist because it is a well-kept secret. "Really?". "Can you imagine! The surprise in the narrative was so incredible, and the way in which you removed the plot armor from the woman who believed she was the female protagonist was just so good!! It's not that Esme didn't appreciate the book; it's just that once Emma started talking about it, she couldn't

Like I was not some shameful mistress trying to make sense of her sins but a woman trapped in a complicated kind of love. And yet, underneath the warm glow of our new friendship, something itches at the back of my mind. No one is that perfect. Everything about Amara is too clean, too refined. Her story checks out with no blemishes, no flaws, just enough detail to be believable, but not enough to be real. Her reputation sparkles like untouched crystal, and I know too well that kind of shine only comes from hiding the dirt well. I will get close to her. Closer than I already am.

However, they later ended up together. The second male lead won in the war of love, plunging the male lead into a mess of regret. Brewster loved the drama really well. Especially after reading so many books and watching many dramas where the female lead or the main character would suffer so much only to still end up with the male lead just because the male lead was the protagonist of the drama. Brewster had always hated this sort of book and was tired of reading them. The last drama he acted in, ROSE IN THE GARDEN, also had this sort of pretext.

She put into words all she saw from the moving picture. But she did something else other than tell the truth. She wrote a character that resembled her in those stories. At least, even just in her novels, she would create friends that wanted her. At least, even just in her novels, she would be able to live the life she could never have lived in reality. At least, even if it's just in her novels, she wouldn't be alone. Day and night she wrote and wrote until she filled pages and pages with words of truth. She wrote until there wasn't a fairy tale lie she couldn't expose anymore.