Beautiful Disaster Book Novels & Stories

Nervous and scared, I slowly raised my face to see who killed the man who almost harassed me. What come up to me were his dangerous and terrifying eyes. The lightning hit the sky once again that gave me a glint what he looks like. A god. “I’m sorry I’m late, darling.”

Flavius wades through the crowd of dragons until he comes upon a SpitFire much smaller than the rest. Her scales are a brilliant lilac compared to the deep violet of the other SpitFires. She slowly approaches Flavius sniffing his outstretched hand. Flavius uncurls his fingers, reaching for her head. In one swift movement, her jaws snap down on Flavius's hand. He lets out a yelp of surprise but does not try to pull his hand away. Blood drips from the mouth of the small SpitFire. She makes no move to rip Flavius's arm off, which is a good sign.

The lights were too bright, and for a fleeting second, her practiced smile faltered. “Nora,” the interviewer began — a woman with hair so precise it might’ve been carved, and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s been two years since The Paper House — your third novel, the one that cemented your reputation in psychological thrillers. A runaway hit, optioned for film before it even left the bestseller list. A phenomenal success. Yet… we’re still waiting for book four. Your fans are eager.”

I dump my bag on the floor and read through the shelf while pulling books out and mumble as I go. ‘Even a book can be dangerous in the wrong hands.’ ‘Ignite.’ ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here.’ ‘You’ll make bad choices. Sometimes you’ll choose the best of bad ones.’ ‘Tuesday is Fucked.’ ‘Everything’s a game. And now it’s your turn.’ I have a stack of about 10 books before I abruptly stop. "Next isle." I say and we walk up and down the library isles. I climb and jump to get books off of shelves and Aidan has to catch me a couple of times when I fell.

“… The Venator community has once again seen a serious attack by proles. The tragedy occurred in Lisbon early this afternoon. Seven people were injured. Two fatal and two more won't survive the night. Kanya Witmer is there for us and reports on the event. " The picture changed from the news studio to a cordoned-off area in a small park still half covered with snow, in which an overpaid blonde Barbie with a microphone tried to keep her hair out of her face in the strong wind to get a particularly good one in front of the camera Give up your figure - but that didn't work. At least their report was good considering the circumstances.

Damian quickly questioned. Belle hid both the book and the paper behind her back. Fortunately she had done it quick enough and her dress had been big enough to hide the book from Damian’s sight. “Yes, I did,” Belle looked at Damian and raised her eyebrows, “What’s wrong, Damian? Why do you look so worried?” “Please, do not leave all of a sudden like that ever again,” Damian begged, his voice and face was colored in nervousness. Belle understood his worries came from the trauma of finding Rachel dying, making her heart weighed with guilt.

Death is like vanishing into thin air, leaving behind nothing but traces of their presence on these pages or our minds. We visit the last floor. The wooden staircase creaks heavily under our weights. This hall smells like old books and dry wood. The ceiling is low here and the temperature is warmer than the bottom floors. I take off my jacket and carry it in my arms. Celeste goes inside a room-like separate area and Ryder observes the visual representation of the flood modeled with ceramic. I look at it too and try to imagine how the dam would have broken, flooding the town to almost death. "Oh my God! Guys, you have to see this," Celeste comes to the two of us in a hurry and drags us in tha

The thought that he might have sacrificed something significant, for me, burned with an unfamiliar heat. "Of course, he probably did it to save his own perfect hide," I grumbled, trying to reignite the familiar indignation. But even that fell flat. Desiree had vouched for him. If he was clean, he had nothing to fear from me. Which meant... he'd done it to help. Me. The girl who'd stormed into a restaurant and threatened to dismantle his life. The irony was so bitter, it almost tasted like the burnt coffee I'd probably still be drinking if Kingston hadn't introduced me to caramel swirl lattes.

He picked up his book again to continue reading it. Yeah, he is definitely hateful, like how can someone be this cold? With a heavy sigh, Katherine turned away, her disappointment palpable. It seemed that their differing perspectives on the situation had created a rift between them, leaving her feeling even more isolated in a city that had lost its allure.

He's in the Viva family and he has to stay no matter what. ​Victor stares at his laptop screen blankly. His eyes emotionless. His private office dominated with novels on the shelves seems to be a void to him. Victor is the author of several best selling crime thrillers. He has been writing for over twenty years but as of lately he can't. His imagination is blocked as he can't even type on a word. He does not know what the problem is. He has taken walks around the parks. Read other books. Even lied on the cold tiles whether something good would come out of it but nothing yet. Catherine opens the door and walks in.