Novel & Cerita Book Talk

butterflies in my stomach I avert my eyes. When I turn to Carla, I see she’s gone. I sigh. I take out my phone and go into my bookstore. I pick out a book out of the Piper Rayne collection, the two of them have to be one of my all-time favorite authors. I read the book while I wait for Carla to return. She told me she’d let me know if she left. I am so focused on my book I didn’t realize until he spoke up that he was beside me. “So, miss Library what you doing reading in a bar?” the guy I was looking at earlier asks.

“No.” “Okay. Just checking. Let’s get going.” At the library, we crept into one of the conference rooms where a local fiction writer was giving a talk. I’d heard her name before but never read any of her stuff. Mysteries and such weren’t my thing. But Raven had seen an announcement about it in the paper that morning, so here we were. Picking the best available seats in the back, we settled into silence with the rest of the small group and waited for the author to begin.

he grumbled. Aria grinned wide enough to illuminate the entire penthouse, and Julian's heart twisted in agony. When had it become so easy to disappoint her? Maybe it was time—just once—to flex. Not on Lena's account. Of course not. Just for Aria. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. --- On the night of the holiday reading event, Julian stood in front of *Chapter & Soul*, feeling like a fool. The windows of the bookstore glowed warm against the winter evening. Dozens of children were sprawled on colored rugs within, cradling cups of cocoa. The parents spoke in hushed tones, and the smell of cinnamon and sugar and nostalgia permeated the air.

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Don't just skip this book again; add to library. Enjoy! Your loving author; Natasha Gwen

Brandon’s POV “This is amazing,” Natalie whispered, her voice echoing just a little bit in the empty space. We wandered slowly between the aisles, our footsteps muted by the thick carpet as our fingers brushed along the spines of books. Natalie leaned in close to read titles, whispering observations as if the space itself demanded reverence. “Who names a book The Economic Implications of Seventeenth-Century Brickmaking?” she murmured. I snorted quietly. “Someone very committed to a niche audience.”

Lagos, Nigeria – July 18, 2035, 6:42 p.m. The bookstore was packed—folding chairs full, people standing along the walls, air thick with perfume, paper, and Lagos heat. Banner above the small stage: “GLOW AFTER THE FIRE – A Conversation with Chinedu Okonkwo.” Chino sat beside the moderator, copy of his book in hand—cover simple: two shadows holding each other under a single bulb, Lagos lights faint in the background. Title in bold white: Glow After the Fire.

My social media is filled with photos of the book in readers' hands, quotes highlighted and pages dog-eared, and I read every single message because these people trusted me with their stories by sharing mine. ***** "You're doing a big reading in Ravenstone City next week," Sarah reminds me during one of our weekly calls. "Major bookstore, media coverage. Are you ready?" I look at Daniel at the kitchen table where we're having lunch together, something we do everyday he's not traveling, and nod. "I'm ready."

a sexy librarian. During that first encounter, I struggled to focus my attention on her face (or Janie), because her tits were an eyeful. Either she had big, hard nipples or puffies poking through her bra; they were almost impossible to ignore. The t-shirt hugged her body and showed everything she had to offer; the shirt had "Books Make Everything Better" across the front and I tried to cover my adolescent behavior by asking her about the shirt. She smiled, "I'm in library sciences and I got it at a library symposium...yeah, there are library conventions. I know it sounds geeky, but they can get wild."

"I wasn't trying to dig through your belongings. I was trying to talk to my husband about something other than the weather." "There's nothing to talk about." "There's always something to talk about." My voice rose slightly despite my effort to keep it calm. "Favorite books. Anything that makes you a person instead of a closed door." "I am who I am." He turned toward his office. "I'm not going to perform interest in conversation just because you found a book." "Performing interest would require you to have some in the first place." He didn't respond to that. Just walked into his office and shut the door, leaving me standing alone in the living room holding a book about cathedrals that apparen