Autumn Themed Books For Adults の小説・ストーリー

The city moved at a gentler pace. People bundled in coats hurried through streets. Children built imperfect snowmen. Cars crawled cautiously through intersections. Life continued. Beautifully ordinary. Later that afternoon, Ama found herself walking home alone. Fresh snow crunched beneath her boots. The air carried that unique winter stillness. Not silence. A quieter version of the world. She passed a bookstore. Then stopped. A display window had caught her attention. New releases. Classic novels. Poetry collections. Stories. So many stories. Each one beginning with a choice.

A lot more messier than she'd every thing of but above it all, she's with someone who would burn the whole world for her. Her Nicole. THE END! Thanks to everyone that took out time to read my book. I'm a newbie author and also watch out for more of my books to come. pls read, drop a comment (would love to know your thoughts) support too.

The turning of the season was a gentle, golden surrender. The maples on the bluff ignited, and the air on the Tidewater Trail grew crisp, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves. The frantic energy of summer tourism ebbed, leaving the town to itself once more. We, the Keepers, felt a similar drawing in. The harvest was gathered; now was the time for storing, for reflection. My book, “Notes from the Hearth: A Practice of Place,” was at the printers. The advance copy sat on my desk, a strange, quiet little object. It felt both deeply personal and oddly separate from me, like a child grown and ready to leave home.

Autumn arrived in Oakhaven with a sharp, brisk wind that turned the leaves in the forest behind our house into a beautiful, burning tapestry of gold and deep red. It was a melancholic change, but it didn't feel lonely. Instead, it felt like the house was finally settling into its own rhythm. We spent our evenings by the fire, but now, instead of talking about the things we were running from or the fears that used to keep us awake, we started planning for the winter. It was a new kind of preparation, one that felt hopeful.

Ooo, it’s cute. I do a quick check of the apartment and am satisfied I am ready for Autumn to arrive. I have put some of her favorite books by the bed for her to read, although knowing my bestie, she will have at least six books with her plus her Kindle. Autumn reads as much as I do. Back in NYC we used to be part of a book reading group. I need to find one here, or maybe I could start one up myself. Perhaps I could use a corner of the restaurant for it during the day, when I am not officially open. Er, that could be an idea. Maybe I am on to something, Mom could make the cakes for us and some snacks, and I could charge a small fee or make money off the coffees. Right, I am getting mentally

I hate days like this. It’s terribly cold outside, and it gets dark much faster. Some people say that autumn is beautiful. Leaves fall from the trees, covering the damp earth with a rainbow quilt. However, for me, autumn is associated with only one thing - death. Plants die, and animals hide in tight corners, peacefully falling asleep. They probably don’t feel like watching everything around them slowly fade away. I envy them, I would like to close my eyes and not have to worry about anything too. Rain runs down my face. Water drips from strands of long blond hair, joining their companions. Together they flow down the paths, washing away all the dirt. Raindrops are never alone, there are bil

I spent the first 34 years of my life in Alaska, land of the midnight sun, but these days I'm located in Washington, and am enjoying a much warmer sun :) I'm married to my high school sweetheart, John, who is known to bring me flowers "just because" My leisure time is filled with gardening, sewing, art and reading. Connect with me online at: www.autumndawnbooks.com http://authorautumndawn.blogspot.com Bibliography: Spark Series: When Sparks Fly Dorchester No Words Alone Dorchester Solar Flare Anthology for the Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance: Hemlock & Iron Indie books: Dark Lands Series in order: The Charmer Dark Lands: Homecoming Scent of Danger The Golden Bell Ghost in Her Heart

“Quiet doesn’t mean unbothered. Just good at hiding it.” We fell into silence. The only sound was distant thunder rumbling above ground. I wondered how long we’d be down here. Minutes stretched. My mind wandered to how close he was. How alone we were. “Tell me something,” I said finally. “Why’d you become a librarian? You don’t seem like the type who likes being stuck behind a desk all day.” Mr. Kane exhaled softly. “Books don’t talk back. They don’t expect small talk. I like the order. And the stories. What about you? History major with a focus on obscure trade? That’s not common.”

My heart thundered in my chest, a wild rhythm that matched the pulse of arousal already thrumming through my veins-nipples pebbled, core aching with the promise of what was to come. Xavier and Kale approached from opposite sides, their naked forms magnificent in the firelight-towering alphas, bodies sculpted from years of dominance, cocks erect and heavy, swaying with each step as symbols of their unyielding power and desire. The air thickened with their scents, musk and wild earth, wrapping around me like a lover's embrace. The ritual elder intoned the ancient words, binding us in fate, but my focus narrowed to them, the pull of the bond a living thing coiling in my gut.

And Gavin—well, Gavin’s three hours away, counting down the days until graduation, already acting like he’s got one foot out the door. Gemma texted me last night: You ever feel like you’re suffocating, even when the window’s open? I didn’t know how to answer. I keep thinking about summer, the salt wind and the laughter and the promises we made, but autumn isn’t summer. –And the truth is, maybe none of us are the same anymore. The thing about autumn is that it looks prettier than it feels. Everyone talks about the leaves—red, orange, gold, the whole cliché—but no one talks about the gray sky behind them, or the way the air smells like endings.