Novel & Cerita Book Club Discussion Guides

Yet here I was, in this room full of people who had chosen me, not because they had to, but because they wanted to. I smiled, a real one this time, and sat at the center of the circle. April clapped her hands together, bubbling in excitement. “Okay, enough of the emotional display. Let’s get to work. Book Club is officially back in session!” Laughter filled the room. We started tossing around ideas for the next reading list, but the discussion quickly turned into a chaotic mess of inside jokes and playful teasing. Maya insisted we include something “dark and brooding,” while Sammy argued for something “funny, because God knows we all need to laugh more.” April rolled her eyes and wrote both

Walls made of politeness and distance and the careful avoidance of anything that might lead to hurt. Oliver didn’t try to tear the walls down. He just… sat beside them. Quietly. Patiently. Until one day, I found myself opening the door. After a book club meeting in early November. We’d been discussing a novel about a woman who leaves her husband and starts over in a small town. The conversation had been heated—Lena loved it, Jenna hated it, Carlos had cried three times—and by the end, I was exhausted. I lingered after everyone left, helping Martha stack chairs.

Another XY chromosome in attendance was a young lad that looked like he'd been forced to be here. Three men among six women, discussing an erotica book. At the risk of sounding like Sawyer, this really did look like one of those cults that adjourned with an orgy. "Shall we start?" My god mother broke the tension almost as if she could read my thoughts aloud. "I'm just going to start by thanking Zade Cutler for showing up to our book club. I didn't know a man of your...ehm..caliber was interested in books" I smiled. A smile that had the Smith women swooning and had Claire rolling her eyes with disinterest.

DIXIE THUMBED THROUGH THE book, the group's conversation washing over her. Book club night usually energized her. It was a bi-monthly opportunity to be in a room full of women she counted as friends. They'd selected a paranormal book this time, and though Dixie had tried she just couldn't get into it. Hear head and heart were stuck in the real world and no amount of sexy werewolf shifter could fix that. Shonda leaned over and gestured at Dixie's plate. "Are you done with your dinner?"

“You’ll have to read them to me.” I sighed, realizing I couldn’t get him off my lap. I could shove him, but he’s probably prepared for that and would deadweight or pop right back into my lap. It’d be an endless loop. So, I had to give up and endure. “My dad knows what I read. Uncle Alex started Bound To Please, a book club many of us in the ranked families across multiple packs are part of. We all enjoy reading paranormal romance because it’s an interesting escape to see how these humans have tried to describe our reality.” I explained.

He shifts back; putting a seat between us and truly looking horrified. Bibah simply shakes her head at our childish shenanigans and takes a sip of her iced latte, metal straw clinking in the Hydro Flask. “The Awoo Book Club’s pick for this week is H.P Lovecraft.” She pats the voluminous book atop the pile and I notice it’s the library copy of H.P Lovecraft’s Omnibus 3. “I’m so excited to roast his ass.”

The next week, they returned to the bookstore, where a crowd of eager readers had assembled, their faces lit up with excitement. The discussion began with a heated debate on a thought-provoking work that had captured the group's interest. Lucian and Ravena listened closely, taking in the many interpretations and insights provided by the book club members. Ravena couldn't help but be inspired by the breadth of knowledge and intellectual friendship in the room. "I believe the author's use of symbolism beautifully mirrors the human condition," she observed. The group agreed, and the talk quickly flowed like a torrent, discussing literary topics, dissecting character motives, and delving into th

"We can take it slow. Or not take it anywhere at all if that's what you want." "That's not what I want," I said quickly, then winced slightly at how fast the words came out. "I mean. I don't know what I want. I just know I don't want pressure." He smiled. "Then no pressure." We finished lunch talking about the book club. He told me when they met, who usually showed up, how half the discussions turned into arguments that had nothing to do with the book. It sounded normal in a way that made my chest loosen a bit.

He lets out a frustrated sound and tips his head back, his lips moving dramatically as he silently prays for strength to deal with me. I've seen that look enough to know what it is. "Only the first night of book club is at the store. We take turns rotating every week to people's houses. They took pity on us and let us do it together." He says, showing me his sheet of paper showing what week people signed up for. I have one as well, but I just folded it and shoved it into my book not realizing what it was. "Shit, so what does that even mean?" I ask and Everett shrugs.

The book club ladies were in fine form this afternoon. Margaret Thompson sat primly on the floral couch in a rented out space close to the library, a half-empty teacup balanced on her knee, her Bible study notes open on the coffee table. The conversation had started with the latest Christian fiction novel — something about redemption and resisting temptation — but it had drifted, as it always did, into more personal territory. Gossip dressed up as prayer requests. “Speaking of temptation,” one of the women said, lowering her voice with dramatic concern, “have you heard what’s going around about that poor Thompson boy?”