Book Review State Of Wonder Mga Nobela at Kwento

No one has found the bodies yet, though, so theres still a lingering hope out there that they're alive. I sigh as I crawl under the thick quilt, flicking on the lamo beside me as I pull out my latest find at Barnes and Nobels: The Winter Garden by the famous Kristin Hannah. This woman's books are truly amazing. Then, after an hour long reading session, I find my eyes beginning to shut against my will, so I set down the book on the bedside table and shut off the lamp. ~ The next morning...

Although I felt disappointed because she refused my offer, as long as she’s happy, I’ll accept her decision. When I arrived at the library, I went to her desk to say hello. She saw me and waved. I waved back. She pointed to the clock and motioned the number 5 with her fingers. Her shift ends at 5pm so I’ll have to wait. A few minutes went by and I saw someone enter the library carrying a bouquet of roses. He seems to be a delivery guy. He went over to Amelia’s desk and gave her the bouquet. I couldn’t hear who it was from but I’m guessing it’s from Kael. The delivery guy left and I saw a smile on Amelia’s face when she looked at the bouquet.

I nodded and he smiled. “Pack up nice clothes. Miami is not all that friendly. I would know that cause I grew up there.” He warned and I nodded. “Great. So, what were you saying?” He pointed to the book I still had in my grip. I looked down at it for a moment before glancing back up at him. “I didn't know you read.” I mentioned as I placed the book on the table. All your perfects by Colleen Hoover. “I used to read a lot. But lately, I haven't read a good book. Coleen is a very wonderful writer. And this book is a bomb.” He said, shocking me. He must have noticed that I was shocked with the way my lips parted slightly and my eyes widened.

I was alone now, and that was exactly how I wanted it. I leaned my back against the door, exhaling a shaky breath. The weight of the book felt like a boulder in my hands, but the knowledge it contained was a siren's call. I tossed it onto my rumpled bed, and it landed with a quiet thump, the sound sounding almost ominous. I couldn't help but linger for a moment, staring at it as if it were a loaded gun, waiting for me to pull the trigger.

“I don’t sleep much.” I should have stepped back, but I didn’t. The room seemed smaller with him in it, the walls pressing in as if to keep us close. He reached past me, plucking a worn leather-bound volume from the shelf. “This one,” he said, setting it on the table, “is worth losing sleep for.” It was an old history text, its pages brittle, the ink faded. He didn’t open it right away—just stood there, one hand resting on the cover, his gaze locked on me like he was searching for something.

Fireworks exploded in her mind as dizziness assailed her. One at a time, his hands moved from her shoulders as they slipped around her back, pressing her more intimately against him. Fire consumed her the longer their mouths fused and tongues stroked. Helplessness washed over her, and she hated feeling that she had no control. Her body wouldn’t listen to her mind, which screamed at her to stop and push away. The strength in her hands slowly disappeared, and her lips softened and relaxed to his passionate kiss. She had never been kissed like this before, and strangely enough, she didn’t mind feeling so vulnerable…if even for a few seconds.

Swish. Had someone left a window open, it was coming from our small library, my favourite room in the whole house well it was really reading enclave fitted with a door. Maybe my father had finally managed to fix the grandfather clock that had been sitting in the room for as long as I can remember. I decided on see the library one last time before the slaughter continued. Perhaps I’d even keep my favourite book of poems, a reminder of where I’d come from and what had been done to me by the people I thought I could trust, by the people who said they loved me.

Her father is hardly ever home, working long hours in the city while her mother spends most of her time grading papers from all of her high school students. She opens the door quietly, but there is no need. Her mother is still awake. She's curled up in the living room reading her latest adventure novel wrapped on the comfy (and dare she call ugly) recliner her father just had to have. Her curly auburn hair is up in a bun with a few stray strands spiraling free as her eyes intently scan the new Kindle she received for her birthday only a few weeks ago. It's safe to say she has become a little obsessed with it. Can't say Sera can blame her. She herself escapes to a different world every time s