Book Delicate Novels & Stories

Why would she when her body felt this alive, this hungry? The hallway floorboards were cool under her feet. Moonlight poured through the tall windows, turning everything silver and shadow. She padded toward the kitchen, pulse beating low and heavy between her legs. A single bulb glowed above the sink. Job sat perched on the wide butcher-block counter, legs spread, boots dangling, old flannel shirt hanging open to reveal the broad, silver-dusted chest of a man who had spent his life working hard and loving harder. A bottle of whiskey stood open beside him, the glass in his hand half full of amber fire. His gray eyes lifted when she stepped into the light, and the look he gave her was slow, de

Reese POV “No, I don’t,” I reply, and Rosabelle’s lips curl into that soft, knowing smile that never means anything gentle. She turns to her desk, slides open the lower cupboard, and pulls out a book so old and dust-layered it looks like it shouldn’t even be touched by even the air. The spine is cracked, the cover faded into something almost unrecognizable—like it survived centuries, not decades. “Here.” She hands it to me. The moment my fingers brush the cover, a faint pulse moves through it.

I thought to myself, you are not as reliable as your son yet, although you didn't tell Charles clearly, you were also knocking on the sidelines. Harry chuckled lightly, "As long as you are willing, just click." Well, it's because he is not authentic, and he can also eliminate disasters. "Can you give me a pot? That's it." Benedict pointed to the white porcelain soup pot that contained the soup. The ears were symmetrical on both sides, and the mouth was folded and folded to form a flower mouth, sealed by gold rim, light and luxurious. Benedict thought those two ears were interesting. "Brother, what do you want a basin for?" Cassandra looked at him unclearly.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside was a book. A rare first edition of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, its leather-bound cover delicate yet immaculate. She gasped, her fingers brushing over the gilt lettering. Nestled beside it was a small, cream-colored card. She picked it up, her breath catching as she read the elegant script: “For a literature enthusiast. —N.B.”

My chest pounded hard. I crept towards the broken window and peered inside. A man held his bleeding hand and kept screaming. In Damian’s hand, was a knife covered in blood. My hands flew to my mouth as a gasp escaped. Damian turned to me but before his eyes could catch my sight, I turned away. My feet rooted to the spot. Then Damian called, “come inside, Janelle.” My fingers tightened around the door handle, but I didn’t move. “Don’t make me drag you!” He said again.

EVE I took a deep breath, brushing off the non-existent lint off the long velvet sleeves of my dress, and straightened my shoulders. Grabbing the handle of the door, I pulled it open and walked inside, the smell of coq au vin and calvados hitting my nose and making the hunger that sat in my stomach ten times worse. I then noticed how different the place had looked since the last time I came here, although that had been in the daytime. Beingeam dark out already, the place went from a brunch-time bistro to a candlelit rendezvous for honeymooners.

He reached out and slid the dark red poetry book free. My heart stopped dead in my chest. I hadn't fully erased the charcoal dust from my fingertips yet. "Fascinating literary choice, Mrs. Falcone," Dante murmured as his fingers touched the dark red leather spine. "Let's see if there are any lines of poetry in here that can explain why your wrists are covered in bruises this morning."

“Sorry.” “You should be thankful I’m not like other guys. You’re pretty. Be more careful next time,” Red said. He stood to leave even though he had just arrived, seemingly uncomfortable in her presence. As he turned, his dictionary fell to the ground. Katleya’s eyes widened in shock as she covered her mouth. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Inside the dictionary was a white book that looked very familiar—a published erotic novel by TitaAmor07, part of the Big Bird Series.

Smiling gently “I like Maria, but if she’d have got bourbon she’d have been back quickly, with red wine she has to go down to the cellar then pick a decent bottle, decant it, allow it to breathe for an hour, and we can take out time.” Blake’s eyes sparkled with mischief, the table was simple a white table cloth, with a gingham table runner, a wicker basket of bread rolls, one of butter, and a jug of water, with two glasses. Blake picked up the jug turning the hi ball glasses over “Water?” Melissa nodded, “Please.”

Dishwashers accepted the bowls and cups, keeping the area clean as diners left. “Yellow arches, eat your heart out,” Rain murmured, her mouth watering. Before she could ask what they were serving, the stall on her left captured her attention. She gasped. A beautiful jacket of wine-red velvet was displayed on a wooden mannequin, complete with matching choker and earrings. Cropped, close-fitted at the bust to hug a woman’s body, it fastened with a gold clasp between the breasts. The sleeves were full and made of a sheer, burgundy fabric with ruby and diamond crystal cuffs. At least she assumed the stones were crystal; she wouldn’t dare display real stones like that in an open market. A black s