Book Make You Cry Novels & Stories

"Have you read this? Twisted Emotions and Twisted Pride?" "Oh? I didn't finish it, but I can really say it's good, and the author is great at writing. I just wasn't able to finish it. It's the type of sensation where I can sense the pain in the characters' words every time they're throwing it. Damn, it's just one of my collections to support. Oh my gosh, I honestly can't. I'm also heartbroken, just like the characters," I said with a chuckle. "How about this?" She showed me another book, but Kaelyn interrupted by handing her a Bible. "Why don't you just buy the Bible? You guys are too much with that dark romance," Kaelyn snaps.

“Well, my shift’s over so I thought to come out here to rest awhile, before heading home. I presume you’re out here for a different reason.” “Yeah….” A long exhale escaped my lungs. “Felt a little lonely.” Adrian nodded slowly. “I think I might have just the thing to fix that.” He deeped his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a book. “I read this whenever I’m sad, overwhelmed or probably just need to keep myself busy, and right now all you need is to keep yourself busy with this.” I took the book from his hand. The title was written in red block letters.

I exhaled, my knees buckling, palms scraping the tree as I sagged against it. Behind the woven branches, I noticed a rusted iron handle set into the trunk. It was half-hidden, so I pushed my fingers to tug it. The disguised drawer slid open with a reluctant groan. Inside there was a single leather-bound journal, It’s edges soft, and its pages filled with ink. On the cover now mostly flaked away: Lyra. I glanced toward the distant laughter of guests, then opened the book. The first sentence took me back: “Viktor used my body like it was made for fucking and lashes, and I thanked him for every scar.”

I quickly made my way up the stairs trying not to linger for too long on any of the steps. My bedroom called to me. I knew it wouldn’t be the same. My heartbeat thudded in my ears with every stride. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to psych myself up. I inhaled deeply, knowing I would remember this smell for the rest of my life. I turned the knob and was immediately greeted with a soft breeze coming from the massive hole in my bedroom wall where I was serenaded just eighteen hours ago. My breathing hitched as my eyes drifted to my favorite part of my room, my books. My fingers grazed the spines of my barbecued books. I felt a single tear roll down my cheek as I bid farewell to a pr

A tear on her cheek. I wiped it with my thumb, “Why are you crying, Bella?” If you want, you can join Mahi Mistry's F******k Group or Page: Author Mahi Mistry and also follow her on I*******m @authormahimistry to keep up with the recent updates regarding her books! You can access all the books + bonus content on her P*****n Page Mahi Mistry.

I was getting sick of crying so freaking much! Perhaps that was my gift. I was given the powers of crying like a helpless child. For some reason, my heart bubbled with a tinge hatred against…myself. Straining against my pathetic emotions, I groaned and leaned my head back against the library’s bookshelf behind me, my head going up harder than it should have and I gasped as pain exploded in the back of head, something thick and heavy, falling to the ground beside me. Ouch! I winced, rubbing at the enraged lump forming there and looked at the book curiously. I reached out to grab it, taking it in my hand, peering at the gilded thick front cover, embellished and heavily decorated in green and g

It certainly deserves the title of 'best'. Why does Cryx have this? Well, it is a really good book, so why should I be surprised? Eh? "What's this?" I mumbled and put my Aunt's book down. The other book was all read, there were no words written on it to indicate what kind of book it was, all I know was that it was thick. I slowly grasped the book and opened the book. "Holy banana!" I shrieked and threw the book as far as possible. It was a you know what kind of book! I need bleach! Holy water! I want to unsee this madness!

They were the books after Anthony’s book. I walk back to my section, sit down on the couch, and get into a comfortable enough position. I continue reading Anthony’s book and by the time I finished it, I was close to tears. I was confused as to why I was crying, the book was not that sad. My brain final clicked that I was not crying because of the book.

Michael's pov - As I sit in my office, surrounded by the trappings of success, my thoughts drift towards Tuberose. It has been two months since her book was published, and its impact on my life has been nothing short of remarkable. My business has soared to new heights, and her words have resonated with millions of readers worldwide. The book has become a sensation, selling three million copies in just two months, making it the best-selling book of all time. I owe a debt of gratitude to Tuberose for this incredible achievement.

Why was she still laying down like it was all too late? Grabbing the book, she flipped towards the page where she saw the instruction on healing. She was so sure she had followed everything, and yet why are there still no changes? She starts reading, pointing her hand on the words on the book, making sure she didn’t miss anything. She read it once, twice, three times, until the words started to feel like it was moving away from her, flying, until it was all too blurry to even read. She hadn’t realized she was crying; she probably had been for a few minutes now. A tear drop falling on the page of the book, dampening it, made her stop.