Between Shades Of Grey Book Novels & Stories

"Not interested in being taller than your husband, Rita? I ignored their words, grateful that they had flashed me a glimpse of their heels. As we had gotten ready, my fireplace has slowly disappeared, turning into a staircase. I looked over the girls in my room, the rest of our sisters filing in. Silver, blue, brown, green, pink purple, maroon, and ice added to the ruby, gold, yellow and white. If only Klover were allowed to join us, then we would be balanced out with the black of her wardrobe. I started down the stairs, listening for the tap of eleven other sets of footsteps as we journeyed into the dark of our Uncle's Underground kingdom.

The room was dimly lit, the heavy scent of cigar smoke curling through the air. Alessandro De Luca leaned back in his leather chair, swirling a glass of red wine. Across from him, Mateo Salazar stood with calculated ease, his sharp eyes betraying no emotion. The silence between them was razor-thin, each man waiting for the other to speak first. “A man of your reputation shouldn’t be wasting his time in the shadows, Alessandro.” Mateo spoke, breaking the silence. “Especially not when there’s an opportunity to reclaim what’s rightfully yours.”

It was clear, well-lit, and taken somewhere I've never come across. Four men stood, side by side, none facing the camera. Even though they weren't facing the camera, you could see what needed to be seen. One face. Four times. It was Drey, but not Drey. My brain and eyes didn't know how to put it at first. It felt like I was seeing Drey in four different faces. They look exactly the same but in different appearances. Like I was staring at the four shades of Drey. My hand started shaking before I felt it happening. The phone trembled in my grip but Victoria reached out and took it back, carefully, like she was removing something fragile from someone who couldn't be trusted with it.

Something that feels like her. The shelves here are uneven, leaning with age, lined with books whose covers are frayed at the edges. My shoes sound too loud on the wooden floor. There’s an elderly man at the counter with her head bent over a crossword puzzle. He looks up once when I enter, nods, and goes back to scribbling in his paper. I trail my fingers along the spines, half-reading faded titles, not sure what I’m looking for until I see it—thin, burgundy cover, gold letters still faintly visible. Leaves and Shadows.

“Surely they’re displacing the balance anyway.” “Because they have been called upon by the grey.” Grandma Rosie shook her head and looked up, as though untangling her explanation and putting it into simple terms we would understand. “Grey will still exist in many shades, be it darker or lighter at any given moment. The fluctuation of the souls that live here can make it darker or lighter anyway. But white cannot be grey, and neither can black. Creatures from the above or below cannot travel to that which they did not come from.”

She wondered how such an important document would be among a shelf filled with books for kids. "Look for a grey book," Mrs Maxwell ordered her. "The book cover is grey with no title on it. The band should be pink, as pink as this shelf." "Yes ma'am," the girl said as she got to work. "But what kind of book is this though?" Mrs Maxwell did not reply to her. The girl searched the whole shelf twice but came up with nothing. "Are you sure that it's here? On this particular shelf? What if they moved it?" she said to the old woman.

Lauren walked on the edge of the road—there were no sidewalks in her development—thinking about what she’d seen in the throes of her migraine two days before, and about the floating book, and also about David and his sudden predictions. Her abdomen felt puffy and twisted at the same time, and she’d put on jeans instead of shorts even though it was hot out. She was afraid—and she knew it was an irrational fear—that her period might leak out of the side of her underpants and then the blood would run down her legs and if she wore shorts then everyone would see.

"Yeah, yeah. Um.. The lady on the couch is your girlfriend, right? I mean the one with a mole on the back of her neck, huh?" "Lisa? Yes, kind of, why?" "It was so obvious, she didn't stop crying earlier, but the other lady also looked pretty sad when she arrived. She sent her husband home and.." "What are you driving at, doctor?" I stopped walking and he smiled. "You were not awake to witness those scenes so I am sharing them with you, man. Chill, huh?" I pulled my hand and we continued walking. "Why are so many people still running around? It is midnight!"

A Note from Ivy Walters To everyone who picked up "All Shades of Passion" and stayed until the very last page of the last book — thank you 🙏💞😍. Thank you for trusting me with your time, your imagination, and your emotions. You followed Maya into danger and desire, walked with Monalisa through a world she never imagined, cheered for Steven as he finally chose himself, held your breath alongside Sheila as she wrestled with feelings she couldn't name, and rooted for Bailey and Mark even when the odds were stacked against them.