Ava Gray Books Novels & Stories

I quickly got Gatsby his kibble and some water. When the cat was happily eating, I turned my attention to Gabe. "What ya got there?" I sat on a barstool and swiveled closer to him. He glanced around sheepishly before heaving the book on the counter. Moments before I saw the cover up close, I'd imagined it to be a book from Professor Pops' Museum of the Supernatural, and worried Gabe stole it. No one was to touch those pages. Turned out the book was nothing mystical, just page after page of whimsical dresses by the designer Vera Wang.

Like a storm had passed, but the sea hadn’t yet decided if it would stay still. Grayson wasn’t in the kitchen when she came down. Just a note by the coffee machine. “Meeting at the firm. Back by noon. Call me if anything feels off.” He always signed with a single letter. A habit. A boundary. But today, she tucked the note into her pocket. She wasn’t sure why. The library in the east wing was Grayson’s favorite room grand, moody, and a little cold but Ava liked it for one reason: no cameras. Or so Marcus had told her.

Even though I had braced myself, actually seeing those photos still made my eyes burn red as a wave of grief swallowed me whole. I forced myself to look through every message Cassandra sent. After rubbing my aching eyes, I turned off my phone and went inside to pack. There was a lot to deal with. It took me two full hours to finish sorting everything. In the end, I packed only a few changes of clothes into my suitcase. Everything else went straight into the fire pit. Among the items were ninety-nine handwritten love letters he had written for me. Even in the raw, unpolished scrawl, his love shone through. There were also the Elarian pearls he had spent a fortune winning at auction, meant to

I could feel his eyes still on me, watching the way I held the book, the way I shifted my weight. The 7 second mark was my current record for how long I could hold his gaze without flinching or looking away. It was a stupid, private game I’d invented—a test of wills. If I looked away first, he won. If he looked away first, I won, which somehow translated in my twisted brain to: I have the upper hand in everything. “That’s Jane Austen,” Grey noted, without looking at the cover. “Not usually your style.” I lowered the book, meeting his dark eyes. “And what, precisely, is my style, Grey?”

Chapter 34: The Legacy Blueprint The sun shone brightly in the afternoon casting a warm glow over the rolling hills of the upstate estate. The sun's rays spilled through the French doors of the western-wing studio. Avery stood by a long mahogany table looking at a leather-bound book. It had arrived by courier that morning. The book was a collectors edition. It was printed for her private archive. For years her words had only existed on screens. They flashed before the eyes of millions of readers on websites.She wrote them quickly to escape her circumstances. Now she held the weight of her journey in her hands. The book was bound in gold-embossed leather. It felt like something

Peaceful. Vespera Hale walked along the mahogany shelves, trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. Philosophy. Strategy. History. She stopped. On a shelf at eye level, nestled between The Art of War and a first edition of The Count of Monte Cristo, was a book she didn't recognize. It had no dust jacket. The binding was matte black, textured like volcanic rock. The lettering on the spine was silver, sharp and angular. SAVAGE REBORN.

Then, he took it to the cashier's desk to settle the bill. He was standing at the cashier's desk his phone suddenly hummed. It was Audrey calling. “Auntie, I'm at the bookstore. I'll be back in about ten minutes.” After hanging up, he took a golden card from his wallet and handed it to the cashier. Then, he noticed that the cashier and the customers beside him were looking at him strangely, some even secretly laughing. Blake's face was dark, but he still maintained his demeanor. He naturally knew what these people were laughing about. What Avery told him to buy was actually a pile of books related to obstetrics and gynecology.

“Wow. Gray really went all out with the color palette—beige and black. Bold choices.” Theo plopped down on a couch. “At least he’s consistent.” “So if we rearranged his books alphabetically,” Nate said, tracing his finger along the spine of Grayson’s books. “would that drive him insane or just mildly irritate him?” “Normally, it would drive him insane,” I said. “But it’s you guys so he’ll just be mildly irritated.” “But would mildly irritated multiplied by two push him to full-blown insanity?” Josh asked. Before I could answer, he flipped Grayson’s pen holder upside down.

Nylo preened and he's been visiting Gavin every night since. Vera, who I've always respected for her good sense of judgment, is no better. All it took was for Gavin to offer to get her books. Large tomes on a variety of subjects — philosophy, mathematics, alchemy, supernatural taxonomy, herbology, necromancy, literature. Some of the books are arcane, and if I know anything about the kind of person Gavin is, most definitely illegal. In any case, the damned man has stolen my friend by preying on her nerd weakness.

I smiled broadly and extracted it from the shelf with both hands. The more I stared at the caption of the book, the more I thought of A. J. Baby. “The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene”, I whispered as I handed the book to the shop keeper absent-mindedly. “I’ll give you Four Thousand Naira for the 2009 Guinness Book of World Records, One Thousand Seven Hundred Naira for the novel and Two Thousand Naira for The Art of Seduction. We haggled for a while, and I turned to leave the shop and the shop keeper, so he could keep his books to himself. I stepped out of the book shop and walked two steps from the entrance, when he rushed towards me pleading.