Book Redemption Road Novels & Stories

He was using his own remaining code to hold open a narrow, jagged tear in the white space—a small, vertical fissure that revealed a glimpse of a completely different reality behind the sheet. ​Through that tear, she didn't see the hospital or the Spire. She saw a long, desolate concrete highway stretching through a dark, rainy forest under a natural, starlit night sky. Standing at the edge of that highway was a battered, white sedan with its driver-side door swung open, its headlights cutting through the mist to illuminate a single, black leather journal lying in the middle of the asphalt. ​It was the beginning of the book. The original draft.

ELEVEN I don’t remember much about the ride home. Bobby and I barely spoke as he drove wordlessly, staring down the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his copy of The King Wears Yellow. And me? To be honest, I can’t exactly remember, to this day. I think . . . I believe . . . I must’ve spent the ride flipping through my copy of the book. Even that is still a mystery to me. How I could’ve been walking aimlessly through the bookstore one moment, scorning Reverend McIlvian and his healing powers, and the next unconsciously buying his book, of all things.

He was trying for her to feel what he was feeling. "Lily I... I have committed many sins in my past. I have killed mercilessly. I've ruined many people's lives just for fun. Most importantly, I have betrayed people. And I regret that. All of that." He took a deep breath gazing into her loving eyes. "I want someone to pull me out of this guilt. Sometimes I want nothing more than to cry my eyes out because I'm tired of carrying this strong facade. But I can’t." He sucked in a deep breath before continuing to speak “Will you do that for me? Will you pull me out of this guilt? Can I trust you with my deepest secret? Will you promise not to judge me for what I have done?" His eyes were begging fo

I needed to get out of this car, and fast. I couldn't let them drag me down with them. Andrew's hand tightened around the bottle, his neck going stiff, but he didn't say anything. He just kept driving. "People like him don't have much going for them," Sadie said, lips curling. "Of course, they drink whatever's cheapest. Unlike us, we only drink Aurelle, flown in from Montaire." Daphne smiled, eyes narrowing. "Sadie, stop. He probably doesn't even know what Aurelle is."

“Hey girl, cute top. I like it..” I gave her a polite nod and turned back to my brother. He added, “Amber drove her Tahoe. My car’s not big enough for all six of us, so we’re riding with her. I’ll Uber back tomorrow.” I nodded slowly. “How respectful of you.” He smirked. “Well, if I’d known your guy was leaving, I’d have told you sooner. Could’ve let you know the house would be all yours. But, hey, he’s gone, and now you do have it to yourself.”

A thumping sound from the splash was heard. I dived into the river, swimming down into the depth. I had to dive up to catch some breath, it wasn't as easy as I had predicted from the onset. The river was deeper than I had thought. Ninety-nine days for the thieves one day for the owner. ** I was back to the toy room, with eyes scanning through the scroll which Cullen had dropped in my room. "The Alpha king demands of my presence?" I let out a scowl after reading the words out loud.

Not to mention autumn evenings with wine and reading by the warm fireplace. I sighed as I considered my romance novel collection, which decorated the living room bookcase. I also remembered the smell of a caramel candy apple latte on the table and the tender stroking of my partner sitting with me on the couch. "We are approaching the gate. Prepare for inspection."My driver said over his shoulder as he turned onto a wide gravel road in the middle of a multicolored forest. My heart leaped into my throat, and my grip on the documents tightened. There was no turning back. I abandoned romantic thoughts about evenings by the fireplace, books, and coffee in favor of pragmatic thoughts about the fut

Three years after my release from prison, I ran into my ex-wife in the presidential suite of the most exclusive hotel in Bayshore. It had been years since I last saw her. She was draped in a silk robe, radiating wealth. When she recognized me, something unreadable passed through Cecily Monroe's eyes. "On the day you got out, why didn't you wait for me to come pick you up?" I said nothing and handed over the takeout. Her gaze dropped to the scar on my wrist, and her breath caught. "I went too far with that. But you've always been tougher than Adrian. You can always get back on your feet." She was talking about what happened six years ago, when Adrian Burke was involved in a catastrophic