Novel & Cerita Book The Woman

She wants to get some information about the person who checked-in in room 305. "I'm here to meet someone in room 305." Alex said. She was hoping the receptionist would tell her about the gender of that person. If it is a woman, then she doesn.t have to worry about anything. If it's a man, then it's a sign for her to back out.

Sitting on a chair, along with a glass of wine in her hand. She looked out of place. She looked different but that wasn't what I was thinking as I started walking towards her, pushing away the crowd of people. I could only see her. My Woman. Mine!

The stunning woman suddenly controlled the ancient book and slowly attacked the huge fire array at the front. Almost at the same time, waves of laughter suddenly sounded...

A woman stepped out! She was dressed in black from neck to ankle. Gloves covered her hands. A scarf wrapped around her hair, and a dark mask hid the lower half of her face. Large glasses concealed most of her features. My skin prickled instantly as she moved with caution, glancing around as though expecting gunfire. “Stay behind me.” Matteo stepped in front of me on instinct. “No,” I said, stepping beside him. The woman stopped several feet away, no one spoke. “Wait…” Julian frowned.

she asked. Alvin smiled, ready for a kill. "I recently read this novel by a New York Times bestselling author who goes by the name AdelleX. The title of her novel is 'The Woman's Dark Secrets.' I think all women have dark secrets that they are trying hard to keep buried within the four corners of their minds. Am I right?" Briana rolled her eyes. "And does the book satisfy your craving for juicy stuff and endless drama?" Alvin looked at her, wearing a surprised expression on his face. "How did you know that I like juicy stuff?"

The hallway fell deathly silent. Then, a roar of laughter erupted, loud enough to shake the walls. "Gordon Grant? That's the former president of Kingsfield University you’re referring to. Has this delinquent girl lost her mind?" Dominic looked at me with undisguised contempt, as if I were a piece of trash. He let out a mocking scoff. "Selene, not only are you some low-class woman who sells herself, but you're delusional as well. Mr. Grant is a busy man. Who do you think you are, some sewer rat from the bottom of society, to address him so familiarly?"

Most importantly, most foundationally, irreducibly — with herself. The woman who had been a guest in her own life and was now its undisputed primary inhabitant. Who had found herself in the fire. Who had written herself down. Who had put her name on it. She thought about the woman at four in the morning who had not been able to put the book down. About the woman who had called her sister. About the woman who had called the lawyer. About the hundreds of women who had written today and the thousands who would write in the weeks and months to come as the book found its way to the people who needed it.

Yessica came and stood beside her. "Looking for something specific?" "I don't know." The woman's voice was carefully controlled. "I read an article this morning. In the Evening News. And I just—" She stopped. "I needed to be somewhere quiet." "Did the article send you here?" "It mentioned a bookshop on Rose Street." The woman glanced sideways at her. "Are you her? The writer?" Yessica paused for half a second. "Yes." The woman turned to look at her properly. Something cracked open in her expression — not tears, not yet, just the pressure of someone who'd been holding things together for too long.

Elle wiped the wax away with a hand as steady as stone. Rounding the bend, Elaine stopped in her tracks. In the center of the room was a woman with eyes the color of ash. She glanced their way for a moment, but then resumed to her book. The volume she was reading was massive, maybe as large as Elaine. It was leather-bound and intricately sewn. The book rested atop a cherry wood table that towered in the old library. The woman stood behind the podium; her old, but unworked hands, smoothing out the precious pages.

I had the urge to touch it, so I reached forward for it. "I wouldn't touch that if I were you," I jerked at the gruff voice and turned around. It was an old woman with grey asymmetric Bob hair and beautiful brown skin. She held a walking stick with a snake's head and red eyes. She wasn't green, blue, or decapitated like the others, she looked like a real woman. "That book might be titled 'NAMES', but it is not a good book. Those five letters stand for something, terrible things. Open that book and you won't love what you will see,"