Best Book Opening Lines Novels & Stories

now he smiled broadly, "You'll be very familiar with all of those tales of course, but the prose is so excellent that they're always worth returning to." I did not correct him, only nodded. He pulled the heavy book across the table to him, where it looked almost miniature in his hands. He opened it at a page he seemed to know the place of from memory, cleared his throat and began to read aloud: "With fresh cobweb still wearing beads of dew, and needle of magpie bone; ye sinful witch doth sew her betrothed's mouth shut that they might ne'er tell a soul of ye blackness of her deadened heart nor the letters of her cursed name.

From their smell and condition, I knew they had been there for a long time. I tried to look out of the window, but it was closed. Sitting in my room was suffocating enough, and yet I could spend my whole day in the library, read all the books that I wanted, and then return to the kitchen for my meal before continuing to read. The first book I picked up was *Mate Bond*. It had a bold description that caught my attention, and it was the best thing I had picked. The picture of the wolf boldly drawn on it made it even harder to resist.

I sat with my legs folded against the other. I opened page one then page two then page three but I couldn't remember any line from the last page, I couldn't even remember the name of the novel all I saw at every line was; ‘This deal needs a stable image, and a woman beside me gives them that. I’ve already introduced her to everyone that matters’ “Ahh,” I screamed, closed the book, and threw it onto the table.

When compared to the ones that come with it, that's a bit thin. She took it in her hands and glanced at it. "Perhaps I'll read this first," she thought to herself before settling into a chair on the bedside table. As soon as she opened the first page, she was immediately drawn to the subject matter. "Silver Wolf: The Beginning of a New Era." A tear appeared on one side of the page when she moved the page. No, all of the other pages is a messed. She returned to the opening page of the book, where she was greeted by the name of the book's author.

"The thresholds. Thomas. Everything." "The editor will want to discuss it." "Let her discuss it. It's right." "I know it's right." She looked at the notepad. "It arrived the way first lines do. Complete." "Call her today." "I'll email her. I want to see it written first." She went back to the coffee. "How does it sit with you." "What The House Kept." I said it again. "It asks the question without being a question." "That's what I needed. The opening line is a question. The title can't also be one."

I looked down at the unfinished book. At all the empty pages waiting ahead. Not demanding certainty. Not promising perfection. Just possibility. Then something caught my eye. A single line appearing slowly across the very next blank page. Silver ink. Fresh. Writing itself. Everyone leaned closer. The words formed carefully. Patiently. Like a promise. > Chapter 171: The Morning After Tomorrow The room went completely silent. Then Hope pointed dramatically. "Good title." Fair. Very fair. Elowen smiled. The library lanterns drifted overhead.

It was already there. ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★ Hello lovely readers, If you're here, that means you not only love supernatural things like I do but you love the act of love too. I'm sure smokin hot alphas make a good selling point for most stories. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for deciding to read my first book, Awakening the Feral! Whatever made you decide to pick it up, I hope the writing has now since convinced you to stay a while.

The particular book appears in front of him as HE gladly reads the title out loud. “Death Resurgence.” As the book opens and the series of the current events begin to flash and flood. HE giggles in HIS utmost amusement, as HE presented. “Well, well, well. Shall we learn the ropes of what lies within the Resurgence?” From the book that deliberately flips and presented the gist of the world that it brings, the words are written and said.

Spread my palm across its surface. The language rose before I even opened it. It was never words on the tongue first. It was sensation. A familiar ache that slid under skin and promised compliance. I let it build. Letting its darkness curl obediently along my wrist. “Yield.” The book opened without touch, that was new and I would be proud, but this was not the time. The pages ruffled as if wind lived only inside them. Ink stirred and the symbols woke.

“That is the one that matters.” Elliot looked at him. “Yes,” he said. “It is.” Adrian walked out. Elliot picked up his phone and sent Sera a message. Nicole wants to meet. Tuesday. I will tell you about it after. Then: How is the book. Her reply came quickly. Seventeen pages now. The introduction is the hardest part. Same as the paper. You have to say what the whole thing means before the reader has seen it and that requires a particular faith in your own argument. A pause. Then: Do you have it. The faith.