Behind Closed Doors Book Summary Novels & Stories

I heard the key in the lock. I closed the laptop. Closed it the way you close something with everything in it that matters. Smooth, quiet, no rush. Set it to the side of the table and picked up the book that had been sitting there unread for a week and opened it to a random page and looked at it. The front door opened. Rhett's footsteps in the hall. He appeared in the living room doorway. Looked at me in the armchair with the book. Looked at the laptop closed on the table.

I nod and watch as he walks out. I pull my hair into a ponytail and get to work. I read deep this story that I lose a track of time. The book had some typos, but they were not major. The story is fantastic and would be a rollercoaster when it hits bookstores. There are so many teenagers out there with amazing stories, but don't get a chance, all because they are inexperienced. I, myself, know more than anyone that you don't need to have writing skills just to write a good book. I wrote Behind Closed Doors with zero experience and besides, we all start somewhere, and today-there are published authors who are same as me.

I opened the drawer on a night I hadn't planned for it either. It had been four days since the drive north, four days of the folder from the custody house sitting closed on my desk the way it always sat closed, and something about that visit had followed me home in a way the routine paperwork never had. I kept thinking about the line on his door, the one lock, the fact that I was the only one who carried the key that mattered. I had built my whole understanding of containment around the idea that a door with one lock, controlled from my side, meant something was actually sealed. Sitting at my father's desk four nights later, I wanted to test that idea against the other door in the room, the

*** Two hours later, I'd tried forty-three keys. Forty-three failures. My back ached. My feet were swollen. I should have given up, gone back to bed, waited for Calloway to get home and help. But I was so close. I could feel it. Key forty-four slid into the lock. Turned. Clicked. "Oh my God," Margaret breathed. "It worked." I pushed the door open slowly. It creaked—years of disuse making the hinges protest. The room beyond was small. Maybe eight feet by eight feet. No windows. Just walls and—

“It's not what you think…I” “SHUT UP!!!” Mr Greyhound interrupted before turning to me with dissatisfaction written all over his face. “Didn't your father ever teach you not to but into other people's business? Don't involve yourself in matters that don't concern you. Now leave” he commanded, shoving me out the door, leaving no room for resistance as he slammed the door right in my face. I stormed off in annoyance. “Despicable!!!” I screamed internally as I violently kicked an inbuilt bookshelf that seemed carelessly tucked away by the end of a dark hallway. Before I could even backtrack and understand how I had gotten here, a crick echoed across the hallway as the bookshelf opened up, revea

"You know? What do you mean by that?" Melinda didn't respond immediately, she pulled another book from the shelf. Instantly, the wall shifted, stone grinding against stone, revealing a narrow door hidden behind it. “What the hell!” Josh gasped at the thick doors, and took a step back, sending Melinda shooting glares, “Mom, I thought we agreed: no secrets!” “I’m sorry, Josh,” she said softly, her face shadowed with remorse. “But this one… was mine to keep.” The door creaked open, and a gust of incense-laden smoke poured out, thick and sweet. Josh coughed, waving the white haze from his face as the scent filled the room.

he murmured under his breath, his fists clenched at his sides. He moved quickly and powerfully. Without hesitation, he strode to the door and banged it shut with a loud crash. Like a warning shot, the sound echoed throughout the building. The company's once-vibrant environment fell strangely silent. Employees sat still in their offices, their minds engulfed in the stress that suddenly invaded the atmosphere. *** It was time to close for the day at the company… With each determined stride, Maggie's heels clicked on the floor as she rushed out of the office. She remained silent, both with Fred and with everybody else. It was out of the ordinary.

Two beasts in a suburban backyard, pretending to be men, and doing it well enough that nobody noticed. "Mine is complicated," she said. "Good. Complicated is interesting. Normal is boring. I should know. I've been normal my whole life." "You're not boring, Patsy." "I know. But only because I refused to be." She patted Josie's knee. "Your book. The house that grew. What happens at the end?" "She finds the last room. The room with no doors. She stands in it and realizes she was never lost. She was the place."

on the front cover of the book. When I took it, I told myself it was just curiosity at first. Just studying. Understanding what she’d left behind. But curiosity has teeth, it bites when you get too close. I reached my room and shut the door quietly. My room was comfortable. Everything was still. Safe. I slipped off my shawl, hung it on the hook, then sat beside the wardrobe. My fingers brushed the floor until they found the hidden panel. I easily opened it up. There it was.

She paused, leaning closer to me through the table, "Dear child, it isn't right for one to leave their parent at old age, huh?" I nodded making moves to walk away. One thing about Ms Jam was that she could be as nosy as she is sweet. It was best to enjoy the flare and move on as quickly as possible. Walking at a quicker pace, I got to the familiar brown door, taking a deep breath and trying hard to keep my emotions at bay. I knocked, nibbling on my lower lips. "Come in," a voice welcomed me from behind. I pushed the door open to see the studious man who had his head bowed and his eyes dancing through a file while his hands jumped on keypads in front of his computer.