Books By Meg Wolitzer Novels & Stories

“If you don’t mind, sir, we feel it would be best to keep you out of the decision making, since you are so closely involved with the defendant.” Godwin fidgeted in his chair. I could feel his muscles tightening as he did his best to maintain his composure. “Yes, well, it doesn’t please me, but, if it pleases you, I will stay as quiet as possible. Now, can we please get this over with?” “We are called to order to discuss the punishment for Mary Jane Cramby who willfully set fire to seven teenage werewolf boys two nights ago. Six died. One survived and is left with severe scarring and physical impairment.”

But instead of old stories from my grandmother’s life, the pages were scrawled with strange symbols and sketches—shorthand in her handwriting explaining the purpose of different runes and sigils. Flipping through the pages, there were sketches of wolves, and the last page that she’d written in had a detailed rendition of a nightmarish wolf-beast that made my blood run cold at the sight of it, it’s eyes smudged over with charcoal in the shape of a protective rune. My heart raced when I realized what I was holding. This was no ordinary journal, it was a spell book.

She told herself the faint tingle was her imagination, just as the hot dreams she’d been having the past few nights had been nothing more than memories of her girlish rescue fantasies with the temperature turned up by her adult experiences. She traced the raised lettering. A version of Red Riding Hood with the wolf as both sinner and seducer and the woodsman as the hero who saves the girl and takes her away from her old life to a new, better one. Seeing the book, touching it made her mother feel closer than she had in years. Even if it turned out to be just a copy, it was worth whatever she had paid.

But if I told them the truth, maybe they would take me back to Thornwood. “A werewolf.” I said as loud as I could muster. Collective gasps broke out around me. Gasps of shock and disdain. I dragged my gaze around, confused by their reaction. Wait, he did say this was the ‘Dragon Keep’. The memory of when I came across a book about Dragons rushed into my mind. “...dragons are egoistic creatures who think they're better than everyone. They hung our kind for sport. They're monsters, Eloise…” Mae had told me that day.

A cross between a golden retriever and a long-haired polar bear with ball joints and the ability to straighten up on its hind legs and strike with its paws when attacked. Fortunately, these proles only lived in small family groups, because they were really serious opponents. Oh, what was I saying? All proles were serious opponents, no matter how small or large they were. For the first time in human history we had an enemy that we could not easily deal with, and we owed that to two parties.

I tell her, remembering I am now her new tutor. "Okay," she sighs. "What would you like to read?" I ask, and as if I made her day again, she smiles brilliantly and answers: "Ovid's Metamorphosis!" I can't help but laugh at her enthusiasm. "Why that book?" I am intrigued a little girl would be so excited to read a book meant for college students. I should know. I had to read the book as part of my mythology elective. "Because of the gods and goddesses!" She simply answers.

I was not the Crimson Priestess and even though I wasn’t sure what that entirely meant to me or the pack itself I would not allow Melina to tarnish that. I started looking at Rogan’s computer and the few books it seemed he had read to get information about who I might be. The idea of him looking at all of these items made me feel good that he cared that much. I picked up the first book which was written by a fellow wolf as it had far too many details about where wolves might be located at. I followed the geographics of the writing and realize that the Cresent Moon Pack couldn't be further than a few days away from us if traveling by wolf. That made the idea of an attack now hard to believe.

*Yo guys! Congratulations if you've made it this far!🥳🎉 I apologize for mass publishing the final parts of the book, but I have exams coming up, and err...I needed to get it off my chest ASAP. Anyway, this part is technically like a trailer for the book II, so it's not going to be singular. It'll be random. So, stay hyped! ********* When I was ten, I drowned in the pool up in my parents penthouse. I was their only child and their heir, so they couldn't leave me for dead. When they performed the ritual that brought me back to life, they suddenly didn't want me alive either.

Just sacred. Azriel spent time with Mira, sitting close and sharing scraps of memory. Not the grand ones. The small ones. The stories you never write down. Hungry winters. Cold water at dawn. The way it felt to be seen when no one had looked your way in weeks. “Thought surviving was the whole story,” Mira said, her fingers absently combing through the grass. “Turns out it was just the opening line.” Azriel gave a small nod. “I thought remembering was the end.”

Of her. She flipped through pages drawn in charcoal—some with shaking hands, some with precision. One page showed a girl surrounded by flame. Her eyes were glowing. Her silhouette, familiar. “What is this?” she asked. “It’s the record of the Fireborn,” he said. “There’s only ever one in a generation. Sometimes none. It skips centuries. But when the world begins to change—when things grow restless—that fire finds a home.” She closed the journal, her heart thudding. “Why me?”