Book Rekindled Heartache Novels & Stories

Fuck I miss them too, I hope they don't hate me. "Well I'm back to work now. I'm actually in Paris, first time that I've been back since we were here together, and my god the whole fucking town reminds me of you. I even went to that little bookstore that I took you to, trying to find a little piece of you to keep with me. I found a book that reminded me of you. It's called 'Finding the joy in the smallest things'. That's what you do, you're grateful for the little things in life, you made me grateful for the small things. I found joy in your laugh, your smile, your presence, even finding this stupid little book. But now that I've started reading it I've realised it's one of those self help b

I will try to do faster updates, I hope you guys will support me in ending this book on a pleasant note <3 Hearts & Kisses

"Don't call me that. It makes me sick. Xavier, if you insist on taking me back, I'll kill myself right in front of you." His face immediately darkened. "Rory, how long are you going to keep this up?" "Keep this up?" she repeated coldly. "After everything that's happened, you still think I'm just throwing a tantrum?" She added, "Caden and I already sent out our wedding invites. Xavier, I stopped loving you a long time ago. If you keep doing this, you're only destroying whatever good feelings we had left."

I heard her whisper in my ear, her breath tickling my ears. Remembering the book was in my bag I let go of Williams hand and grabbed the book opening it to the small pages I found. Reading through them I knew it was some kind of ancient grimoire, nothing made sense for what to do to heal someone in this state. There were spells for fatal wounds, specifying that these were for physical wounds which William had none of them, others mentioned fixing a broken heart but again he didn’t have a broken heart. I made a mental note to look into that one more in the hopes it could help Ashton in the future.

He yanked my hair so hard that my scalp felt like it would tear. "You had a good sleep, didn't you? Why wasn't it you who died back then, you venomous bitch?" Adrian shoved me to the floor and continued, "Peggy's baby almost didn't make it. A killer like you should pay the price of your actions." I smirked and stopped struggling. For some reason, I felt surprisingly calm. My heart had been broken years ago, shattered by Adrian's relentless torment. The needle pierced my vein, and blood flowed steadily through the tube. My lips lost all color, turning cracked and pale. My fingers began to tremble, growing weaker as they rested on the bedrail. Gradually, my surroundings started to fade.

"So I won't have to see your face again." Okay. Now I was getting offended, and the warmth I'd felt just moments ago evaporated, replaced by a sting of rejection. "Oh, I'm sorry," my voice became laced with a sudden, sharp edge as I leaned slightly forward. "Is there something on my face…? Why are you trying so hard to get rid of me?" The injustice of it, after everything. "What's the point of saving me from drowning if you won't let me properly heal? Isn't that just... too harsh."

CASSANDRA The pulsing between my thighs just won’t go away. It’s been there since my lesson yesterday with Rhett, along with a tingling sensation like I’ve been transformed into a bubbling can of lemon seltzer. I press my legs together as I lounge on the green velvet chaise in my room. I’m reading a book Clarisse brought me from the outside world. It’s a romance novel entitledBuilt from Stoneabout a girl who goes hiking and gets caught in a storm, only to be rescued by a rough mountain man who takes her home to his cabin where…thingshappen.

I couldn't find a single word to say. Hearing my quiet sobs, Diego's tone softened. "Hey, why are you crying? The principal position is gone, but there's still a place for you here. Just come back." Listening to his reassurance, my tears flowed even harder. Five years ago, I played Chopin's "The Farewell Waltz" in this piano shop. I never imagined that the sadness in the music would someday mirror my heartbreak, as if everything had been destined. Just then, my phone buzzed with a text from my lawyer. "Ms. Tucker, your divorce documents are ready and have been sent to your email. Please check them at your convenience."

“Tonight, you let yourself break. Tomorrow, we face your mother’s funeral together. The day after that… we’ll figure it out.” My hands found their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady under my palms. “What if I’m too broken?” “Impossible.” His lips brushed my temple, so gentle it made my heart ache. “You’re the strongest person I know.” The dam broke. All the grief, fear, and exhaustion of the past days crashed over me at once. I crumpled against him, and his arms wrapped around me, holding me together as I fell apart. “I keep seeing it,” I whispered against his chest. “The way James looked at you when he pulled that trigger. His own brother. How can someone hate that mu

Daniel Hart was a chapter closed with no intention of being reread. And then, on a crisp Saturday morning in early October, I met him. The bookstore was nearly empty—one of those independent shops with mismatched chairs, shelves that reached too high, and the scent of cedar and old paper in the air. I went there often, drawn to its quiet corners and anonymity. I was in the psychology aisle, flipping through a worn copy of The Body Keeps the Score, when I heard a voice behind me. “That one saved my life. Or at least explained why I couldn’t sleep for three years.”