Anita Archer Books Novels & Stories

This might do since he was just wearing black pants and a designer brand white sweater with a metal pendant on his neck. "Good evening, Sir Archer." The waitress greeted. "This way, Sir." I grimaced when I realized he must come here frequently because he addressed the waitress by her first name. We even came to a halt when he was called from a nearby table. His attention shifted and he smiled at the lovely lady. I recognized her as a model, so I assumed she was one. He even approached their table and kissed their cheeks as he greeted them. "What is he? A running President?"

The air in the grand boardroom of Miller & Associates was thick with the scent of expensive mahogany polish and the stagnant ambition of city officials. Clara Vance smoothed the fabric of her charcoal blazer for the tenth time, her fingers instinctively grazing the small silver locket hidden beneath her silk shirt—a nervous habit she hadn’t managed to kick in over a decade. She felt out of place in these glass-and-steel cages of corporate power; her soul belonged in the swirling dust of a construction site, where the smell of wet concrete and the blueprints of a better world were the only things that mattered.

Her brothers walked out and shut the door behind them, leaving her in her cold room, with her damp tears collapsing in on themselves and her loud sobs that she kept to herself. 🌹 The tailors measured dutifully, whispering to themselves. They’d secretly give her pitying looks as if knowing the fate before her, but she caught those looks. If they thought they were sly, then she was James Bond. But it wasn't just them, though, all the maids, the guards, so-called henchmen, they all gave her those pitying looks. “Anaya,” She jerked furiously and accidentally knocked the tailor down,

Anita would spend hours browsing the internet until finally, she clicked on a link that changed her life. "mmmm, what is this, on my feed?" Anita mused as she slowed her scrolling to a stop, on the top of her feed there was a novel that was recommended to her by one of her F******k friends. The cover displayed a man and woman that were intimately intertwined, and on the woman's wrist were chains, and in the man's hand, there was a red riding crop. The novel instantly caught Anita's interest, she was not a virgin but she was innocent still in many ways so seeing the cover of this book piqued her interest so she gave it a chance, and this one fateful moment in time ended up opening her eyes to

She ran her fingers along the spines, feeling calmer already. She settled herself into his desk chair, tucking her feet underneath herself. She figured grabbing a book might help her sleep or at least distract herself. It was then that she noticed a familiar leather book poking out from the center drawer. Silently, she slid the drawer open. It was the book her grandmother had given her weeks ago. A page was tabbed. Curious, she flipped to the page and her eyes widened in horror at the entry. Ava Brochade m. Smith, 1963-still living. Residence previously unknown. Whiteridge, house in Estates neighborhood. Over 100 known kills. (most of which were known to be unauthorized.)

Both books are combined together, and Abhimanyu's book is titled *Taken: King's Rights Reserved*. ... Thank you, ShineeSunshine ❤️

the Architect sneered, pointing up. The clouds glowed red, and giant words rolled across the sky, as if a huge invisible hand was typing: > “JULIAN AND MAYA ESCAPED. BUT THE COST IS HIGH. THE AUTHOR IS GONE. THE BOARD HAS NO LEADER. THE VILLAINS FROM OTHER BOOKS ARE NOW FREE.” Maya stared up, terrified. “Other books? What does that mean?” “It means,” the Architect said, smiling cruelly, “I’m not the only one hunting you. The Board kept a hundred books on their computer. Scary stories, war stories, stories of monsters that eat stars. Now, the walls between the books are gone.”

"Oh my God, where should I start?" 'Mine is happy,' Ash whispered, and Duncan’s lips twitched slightly—barely. "Come with me," Duncan gestured, leading her further inside. "Oh my! Is that what I think it is?" Arianna gasped at the sight of a dark green leather-bound book—one she would recognize anywhere. "You know it?" Duncan arched a brow. "Yes, of course!" She tried to reach for it, but she wasn’t tall enough, so Duncan helped her. "Thanks," she smiled at him, then looked down at the book. "The Ballads of the Ancients."

And somewhere in the restricted archives, the Archivist turned a page in a book she had been reading for centuries, and the story that had not finished producing surprises produced another one. End of Chapter 52

Ariana locked herself up in her room, desperate to find solace amidst the chaos that had unfolded before her in the past couple of days. Her gaze fixated on the worn leather book that lay before her, its pages filled with stories of both happiness and sorrow. With trembling hands, she traced the intricate patterns etched onto the cover, taking a deep breath as memories threatened to overwhelm her. “If you do not find the truth you seek there, then know that evil has prevailed,” Catherine had said to her whilst handing it over to her. The confidence she exuded as she spoke made Ariana all the more curious to unravel the mysteries hidden behind the black ink.