Bodega Book Novels & Stories

I squeezed his hand. “I can’t wait.” Smiling back at him. He stopped studying my face and I think he knew there was something different about it but he wasn’t quite sure. He still went back to the book. “So he brought this because it has the name of your grandmother and father in the book.” “What? It does? Where?” I started scanning immediately and Rogan so kindly pointed to where I now read.

I finish looking at the book she was currently reading. “Okay,” she replies and I looked at her confused. “Okay?” I repeat and she just shrugs in response before going back to her book. Barbara smiles warmly before mouthing ‘Leave’ at me. “Yeah, okay. Good.” I stutter again as I turned and left the library with a goofy smile. I am still confused. I gave her a speech and she dismissed me with an okay. “Headstrong,” I murmur to myself as I wandered off to find Nicholas and Saxon.

Lazily, I looked over and noticed a bottle with a golden cloth over it. Out of curiosity, I unplugged the stopper and sniffed it gently. The smell was mild yet pleasant and faintly reminded me of an old-fashioned bar of soap sold at a store that catered to handmade wares. I poured a dot out onto the rag, and the scent erupted in vibrant floral fashion; like a flower opening in spring.

He had an apologetic smile when he turned back to her. "I am sorry you'll have to make do here with me, Your Highness." She returned his smile graciously. "You have done more than enough for me, Birian. Anywhere is better for me than the cell I had before." He bowed slightly and pulled the chair from below his table. "Then you should make yourself comfortable." Cleopoda moved to sit in the chair. She ran her fingers over the spread books on the table. There were more books stacked below the table and all were related to the many pantheons of the gods.

Elena gazed at every one of us—her mother losing blood rapidly her brother barely awake her fiancé clutching his intestines Lila missing an arm and me in tatters—and a deep Puerto Rican fire ignited in her eyes. “Then we'll begin with the bodega " she stated. "That wall belongs to me well.” We relocated. Before we even reached it the bodega door swung open the bell ringing the opening four tones of Lamento Borincano. Inside the shelves were brimming with goods floors polished and the old cat that once napped on the plantains now preserved and grinning on the countertop. Behind the cash register stood reflection-Rosa, arms folded, wearing the hoodie I cherished—the one I lost the evening the

Mexico was heavy. It was like entering a room with a stuffy and suffocating air. Not to mention the fear that was crawling up on my spine that at any moment, someone might shoot at me. The warehouse is large, glass windows, and steel doors. It wasn't the typical warehouse I usually see that’s covered in steel and metal. It was more like a home than a slaughterhouse. Thank heavens for the transparent windows, it became easier to navigate and shoot. Wearing cargo pants, a black cropped top and combat boots that I changed into from the plane, I lay still on top of a hill by the warehouse, hidden in the grass. At least if I die, I was going to die with good clothes.

"Finally home!" Cela said to herself as soon as she stepped inside her apartment. It's still bare but already messy. Papers are everywhere and trash cans are full of empty soda bottles, instant noodle bowls, and take out containers. The evidence of working almost non-stop prior to the release of the second book are still inside the house. She couldn't even find time to take them out.

I interrupted firmly. Dad sighed before speaking with unmistakable relief, “Good. Your mother and I never thought that the underboss was reliable to begin with. He’s just a mid-level leader, yet so arrogant. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was the Don.” Then, he continued, “Do you remember Julian Rossi? The mafia boss based in Florence, Italy?” My phone buzzed as he sent me a photo. The man in it was tall and striking, with sharp features and an imposing presence.

In New York, there seemed to be a place on every corner where you could buy just about anything under the sun at all hours of the day and night. Close-knit families ran these neighborhood institutions that were easier to go through for quick items, unlike the crammed supermarkets. Grabbing a bouquet of pink roses surrounded by a cloud of baby’s breath in the outdoor display, Fiona entered the bodega. She approached the counter laden with colorful packs of gum, candy, and other miscellaneous items packed full for good measure. She noticed a black cat sleeping on the

She let out a breath, shaking her head as she left the chair before pointing at me. “Let me break it down for you to understand. The bookshop you lockpicked— don't even fucking argue against that. I know for a FACT thai I locked it— and intruded on is MINE and it's on the other side of this room which I ALSO own because I own the entire BUILDING.” She huffed indignantly.