Best Female Fantasy Books Novels & Stories

She's wearing jeans and a casual blouse, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she's carrying two iced coffees. "You're a goddess," I tell her, taking one of the coffees gratefully. "I know. It's a burden I carry gracefully." She bends down to Mia's level. "And how's my favorite girl today?" "Good! Mom's letting me pick out two books." "Two? Wow, it must be a special day." We spend almost an hour in the bookstore. Mia carefully considers every option in the children's section, reading back covers and first pages with the kind of serious concentration that makes me smile. She finally settles on a fantasy novel about a girl who discovers she has magical powers and a book about space explorat

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She tilted her head while questioning. "Oh, we have books and plenty of stories about mythical creatures, I think most, if not all of it exist here." Alexis nodded as she spoke, she was fairly confident her brain conjured up all these creatures to distract her from her impending death. As depressing as it was, Alexis hadn't felt the slight bit affected by the thought because she was thoroughly distracted. "Like history books?" The woman asked looking slightly suspicious of Alexis. Though Alexis noticed she thought nothing of it. "No, no fictional books. Like romances and stuff." She knew the word fantasy probably didn't exist here. "Enough of that anyway. Your my mana tutor, right?" Her voic

I watched a group of girls around my age walking and laughing and conversing as they took pictures together. Then I saw a group of moms sitting on the bench. They didn’t look like besties but they were all casually conversing, so as my two darted to the slides and swings. I just found an empty bench by the wood line and took my seat. Pulling a book from my purse. “His Hidden Ice Queen.” I hope no one ever finds out I read werewolf fantasy books. But dang it they are addicting. Esmeralda being swept away from her terrors by the sexy Alpha male, Giovanni. I mean, what woman wouldn’t want that. But even I know, those are just what the genre is. Fantasy.

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Deliberately forgot, but that's hardly the point. I grind my pussy against his hardness as he swipes my hair to one side. He buries his face in my exposed neck and takes a long sniff. "You smell like a real-life wet dream." Real-life wet dream? I laugh at my vivid imagination. Tens of women at work drool over Rhys Redmond, but I must be the only one filling up pages with fantasies of things that will never happen. If this doesn’t get me checked into a mental facility, nothing will.

From my emotions and feelings towards her, I was still like a reader reading the book with the b*tch butting into the story. I walk my way where I could find total silence, the library. There were no students around and only the librarian is there. I step inside and I was overwhelmed with silence, this is what I want, peace. I move my feet slowly, looking at the book, trying to grab a masterpiece. There were thick and thin books. I look at the story titles one-by-one. I went to the fantasy section. The Magic Of The Bottle The Lost Genie The Werewolves Mate The Bloody Moon

It was hard for her to read the words, but lighting a candle she did so just the same. Winastra was so close to perfection as a person and the answer as to why must lie in this book that she seemed to already know by heart because she had read it so many times. If she could Wenzou wanted to learn what it was that made Winastra so different. She had asked Winastra but the woman did not seem to be able to share her beliefs with her in a way that made sense to Wenzou. An idea popped into Wenzou’s head, then, “Did the blonde girl, Tasy, did she know this book?”

Nor had she ever seen such an eclectic collection of oddities. She picked up a pair of boots, vinyl, with a huge, plastic zipper. A vague memory of a porn film she had accidentally flipped on one late night flashed through her mind. Dominatrix, she believed it was called. She dropped the boots and sank onto a little bench sitting against the wall across from the racks of costumes. Fantasies. She had never had a sexual fantasy. All her sexual thoughts had always centered on Steve and their quiet sex life. All she had ever wanted was his hands on her, his lips telling her the things she wanted to hear.

Your person is coming. She smiled. “Thank you.” He nodded, “Go home, young lady.” Kisha stood, then hesitated. Can I ask you something? “Of course.” Why did you stop to help me? He looked at her as though the answers were obvious. “Because you needed help.” Nothing more. No price, no expectation, no demand, just kindness. Kisha’s eyes filled again. She understood then. That was what Morgan had given her. That was what she had been searching for. Love that didn’t come with a contract, care that didn’t have conditions and a place where she didn’t have to perform to deserve belonging.