Book Delivered From Distraction Novels & Stories

But right now I am reading a spectacular book called ‘Unwanted mafia king’ it's very interesting, and I highly recommend it. Flipping onto the next page, I heard a knock on the door. Oh lord! Who is that annoying person that wants to disturb me right now? I absolutely hate it when I’m reading a novel and someone comes to distract me- like hello- I am busy. If it’s possible I would just hide behind the moon and read as many books as I want without any distractions. There goes the knock again and I took a sip of my coffee and gently kept it on the table not wanting to

After that, I would stroll through Roselle Street, but I always felt lonely, like I was missing something. That was until I entered a bookshop and saw Jonathan reading in the corner. He was surrounded by tall piles of books. He set every book he finished reading on one side before moving on to another. He seemed content in his world of ink and paper and looked like nothing could intrude on his peace. I grew curious and asked the old man who ran the bookshop about him. The old man clicked his tongue and replied, "That young man has come here three days in a row. He sits here from morning until nightfall, and he even skips meals sometimes."

I brace myself, preparing for a lecture similar to the one Archer gave me. Instead, Beau says, “What you need is a distraction.” I look up at him with surprise. He smirks as he lifts the book in his hands. “I know just the thing.”

I tugged at my tie all through like it would choke me to death if I let go. I was getting a bit suffocated and I thought I need to distract myself. I grabbed my phone but nothing seemed to interest me in my phone. “Aargh!” I grunted, dumping the phone in my pocket before pressing a finger to the middle of my eyebrows. I need a distraction. I need something to take my attention off the thousands thought that were running in my head. I was about to drag my eyes shut when I remembered the note so I pulled it out and stared at the flashy cover for what seemed like forever before I decided to read through it.

Nicholas insisted on tidying up, brushing off my offer to help. He was just simply stubborn. So, I decided to roam around as he cleaned up our little mess. It is also to make the food go down. I wandered among the shelves, trailing my fingers over the spines of the books. The piles of books are fascinating since they all look classic and just ancient. While looking, my gaze landed on one of the books where a piece of paper slipped out. I grabbed the book, saw the title as Forbidden Devotion, and found a nearby table. Perched on the edge of the table, I eagerly flipped through the pages. But instead of a story, I stumbled upon a stash of folded papers nestled within the book's pages.

I must use this time wisely. “Now,” I take my seat at the table. “I need to find something.” Anything, and I decided to just pick at random from the pile. I end up picking a thick and old-looking book. Something that will likely take some hours to properly go all the way through. Good. Perhaps it will help me take my mind off this strange pain. I move to rub my sore stomach again. I hope it will. And distract me from anything else, “Ah,” I softly wince again, but force myself to carry on, not seeing any other options. All I have is work, and finding no more excuses, open the cover and start.

Because she needed it. Cup in hand. Warm. Bitter. Real. She stepped to the balcony. Air hit her face. Cool. Clean. City sounds low. A car here. A bird there. No sirens. No deadlines. She sat on the balcony with the book Destiny had recommended last month. Paperback. Dog-eared page 47. Title said “Slow Work”. Destiny underlined one line in pencil: “You are not your output.” For once, Elma was not thinking about deadlines.

I lay there trembling, body buzzing, mind hazy with satisfaction and confusion. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it lazily, opening the message from Lisa. It was a video. Lisa on her bed, legs spread wide, fingers pumping in and out of her clean-shaven, dripping wet pussy. Her eyes were closed, head thrown back, lips parted in ecstasy like she was high on it. The wet sounds were loud, her big tits heaving as she moaned my name softly.

"What is wrong with you?" Edith stepped in front of Helene. "You're a terrible mom! I hate you!" Unperturbed, I grabbed a wine glass and took the stage. "Thank you all for coming. I regret to inform you that Mr. Grayson and I are divorcing. This house is mine, not his, but I'll host another event to make amends. Please understand." I downed the wine in one gulp. The guests, savvy businesspeople, made quick excuses and left.

Tell me if you like these characters and if you want to read more about them, I’ll make it a book of its own and publish on my account. Do well to check out my new book on the App. It’s titled; PROFESSOR DEAREST. You will wet your panties reading every chapter of the book. XoXo, Author Prodencia.