Book Find Her Novels & Stories

she mumbled, raking through the various books in the library. “He must not die now, I will lose my crown and I won’t be able to carry out my mission, so even if I must shed blood, I will make sure to get to the truth of this strange sickness” she told herself, wiping the thick beads of sweat on her forehead. Almost on the verge of collapsing, she finally found what she was looking for. It was the book someone had recommended while she was in exile. A patient was brought to where she was working and no one knew the source of the illness until the person diagnosed it through the book.

She had ice cream, bought some personal items and even a new dress at a thrift store for a great price. Finally, she decided to stop at a bookstore that seemed to have an attached café. Parking the car, she got out and entered the bookstore. The smell of books soon invaded her sense of smell and she smiled. She walked between some shelves until she found the English literature section. There were some interesting copies and Amelia opted for The Hill of the Howling Winds. Going to the coffee area, she sat down in one of the armchairs and started reading. There were still a few long minutes of sitting.

Since he was accompanying her to university, he had to take care of her from every aspect. As for himself, he would just eat an egg later. Ronin caught sight of the book in Catherine's hand and widened his eyes in surprise. "Catherine, you went to pick up the books yourself?" He hadn't known about this before. It was after his roommate told him that he knew he had to go pick up the books himself. After picking up his own books, he went to Catherine's class and picked up her books as well. Catherine raised the book in her hand and said, "Amelia picked them up for me."

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So why was she here now, ripped away from him without warning? Desperation gripped her as she stumbled out of bed, searching frantically for the book. She found it lying open on the floor beside her bed, the cover slightly worn and its pages fluttering as if taunting her. She dropped to her knees and began rifling through the pages, eyes darting across the text. She searched feverishly, skimming through scenes she remembered, the places where she had laughed and cried, where she had made memories with him.

The breeze shifted, carrying the faint scent of the river and the low chatter of pack members in the distance. She continued sorting herbs, unbothered, as if the conversation hadn’t just peeled something open between us. Eventually, I broke the silence. “So what exactly are you hoping to find in our history books?” She looked up again, her expression unreadable. “Truth.” “About what?” “Everything.” “That’s a big project.” “It always is,” she said, brushing her hands off. “But I don’t read for fun. I read to remember. Forgotten stories have a habit of returning when you least expect them.”

So he scampered closer, reaching her and he took the book out of her hand and he immediately earned a gasp of surprise from her. " I'm not hungry so just go away and leave me alone." Zade flipped through the pages of the book before turning to the cover page, his lips curved upside-down and he hummed lightly. " Ares Lockwood's Sing Like a Girl" Again, he hummed. Then there it was— his goddamn gracious green eyes, as though there were flares behind them, suddenly turned away from their usual dark side to a warm one. But why was her heart beating so fast and why shouldn't she control it?

She looked like a fairy in her world, doing what makes her happy, not minding the chaos going on in her life, probably just waiting for her Prince Charming to come pick her up; and here I am, I guess. She looked up as I entered. “You’re late.” She said, dropping her book on the couch. “I know,” I said as I walked in. She closed the book, placing a bookmark between the pages. “Busy day?” She asked. “Long meetings.” I yawned. “I figured.” She nodded. I walked toward the bookshelf. “What are you reading?” She held up the cover. “A collection of historical biographies.” I raised an eyebrow. “For fun?”

It felt like she was still here with me, in this room, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else. I heaved a heavy sigh and turned around, but something caught my attention on her bookshelf. There, nestled between the works of Jane Austen, was a small leather-bound journal that I had never seen before. I picked it up, feeling its soft cover under my fingertips and carefully flipping through the pages. As I read her delicate handwriting, my heart ached with both joy and sadness. This journal was a window into her thoughts, her feelings, her dreams. It was like a piece of her that I had never known before.