Book Club Fiction Novels & Stories

Gwen's Pov I couldn’t stay in that apartment another minute. The package on the coffee table stared at me like a living accusation. Every time I glanced at it, fresh waves of humiliation crashed over me. I needed out. My Book club meeting was today. Right. It was my one safe, normal thing this week, a quiet gathering at a cute café a few blocks away where we talked about romance novels and drank overpriced lattes. No ex-husbands. No lecturers. No drama.

Now I was here alone, looking for a book she didn't want me to read. The store was busier than I expected for a weekday afternoon. A few people browsing the fiction section, an elderly man in the history aisle squinting at a biography of some dead president, and a cluster of women near the front of the store gathered around a display table with the kind of energy that meant they had found something they were excited about.

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.”

It's been a week since everything has been normal for a while. After I stopped reading those novels I got bored, my reading addiction got the best of me and here I am at the Coven Book Club. Yeah, habit. I was very very antisocial so I didn't know most of the girls here and they all attended my school for the past three years. Yep, I know, they can be a bit weird if we weren't discussing the novel we read that week. They would talk about magic, zodiacs and other stuff.

Julie began as she pulled into a parking spot, “you’re a strong woman. With time, you’ll find your way. Just remember, you’re not alone.” She stepped out of the car, and it immediately enveloped me in the familiar scent of books and the aromatic smell of coffee. Julie led the way into the renovated book club. The space was transformed; it felt inviting and warm. While it kept the charm of the wooden interior, new elegant furnishings made it look vibrant. As I remember, the library section had expanded, with more seating arrangements, and the ambiance was comforting.

Lumen asked. "Apart from working here, the book club is good." "Yeah? What are you currently reading?" "The book club usually has three books at a time we're reading through. One of Sonny's books, one personal development and one for entertainment. I've finished the first two. I'm on to The Hobbit now." "Oh yeah?" Max perked up. "I really liked that one as a kid. It took me longer to get into Lord of the Rings." For the first time, Aspen actually had a little life in her eyes. "Yeah? I've heard it gets really bogged down in description."

I know all of Dr Ambrose's little grunts and noises. Well. Not all of them. I wish. "I went to my book club." Dr Ambrose nods. "Your naughty book club." Ha. "Yep. Shall I tell you about what we're reading?" See, he's not the only one who can toss out a challenge, but sadly he sidesteps mine. "No, I'd rather hear more about the club. Who else attends? Other students?" "Yep. It's mostly girls but there are a few guys too." "And you meet in...?"

"Go. Browse. Get lost." I did. I lost myself in the fiction section, running my fingers along spines, reading first lines, falling into the rhythm of book shopping that I'd forgotten I loved. Ronan never wanted to spend time in bookstores—he said they made him claustrophobic. But I could have lived in a place like this. I chose three books: a literary novel about a woman reinventing herself after divorce, a poetry collection, and a thick fantasy epic I'd been meaning to read for years.

She was fainted Tha-wait. You gotta be kidding me Daphne! She didn't even have a chance to know that Anastacius was there at the incident that day unless she was faking being unconscious. Damn, she faked it! She didn't faint, she was wide awake that day and she didn't even bother to save me or she already knew that they weren't harmful. That Dylan and microwave guy. Don't tell me...........don't tell me that it was just a plan. Fucking bitch of an author who told you to turn a Romantic Novel into a thriller one.

You enjoy the fluff, get your panties wet during the snu-snu moments, and fantasize about things that only happen in fiction. 'You like to read these crappy books because you want to fantasize about the things that you can never have. These books make up for your boring reality. These books have twisted your expectations of a real man. You drool over fictional characters but you won't look at a real man,' My younger brother had chastised me once, 'and these authors make your wallet thinner by manipulating your mindset and making you addicted.'