Books C J Box Novels & Stories

Seconds later, Shandra is already a little better, drying her eyes and sniffling a little. "Pretend that never happened." The two men shrug. Doing a bit of suspense, the girl with fair skin and dark hair opens the box. Although they are stored in a dirty, dusty place, the two books look perfectly clean, although obviously aged. The smell of leather and old paper reaches the nostrils of all three, especially those of the demons. Sam picks up the two books, paying attention to the covers and their weight. Then he smiles grimly at Shandra. "Apparently, little witch, you are either blessed by the gods, or cursed by all the terrible beings in this world."

I said it, but God, it was harder this time. The third box had a collection of novels, and my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. I couldn't return this, it wasn’t a luxury gift, right? Just books. Books weren’t bribery. Books were safe. A harmless, thoughtful gesture. I was bargaining with myself, and I knew it. But as my fingers traced the cover, the side of me that wanted to keep them won. Six novels. All from my favorite authors. How did he know? The thought sat uncomfortably in my mind as I gathered the empty packaging, along with the designer bag, and carried them straight outside. I dumped them into the hallway, shutting the door more gently this time.

I replied back as I stretched my hands to remove the painting but it didn’t move, instead it slid and revealed a medium sized box. I took the box out and placed it on the desk. It was an old mahogany box with gold engravings on it. “Sinclair” I opened it carefully and revealed a very thick brown greenish book with about 200 pages made of parchment or something like and had the title written on it with big bold handwriting: “BOOK OF SHADOWS” I smiled happily, I couldn’t believe that I had it in my hands and looked at Kevin who was still anxious saying: “We found it” he nodded his head and was about to speak when we suddenly heard an applause behind us.

Cassandra Andrews has a little problem. She hates her family, has run away from home, and has no place to stay. Okay, maybe problems is more accurate. And 'little' is a stretch. Defeated, and helpless, she hides out at the women's locker room at a boxing gym far away from home where nobody who knows her would ever dream she's in. The days roll past quietly, and she's alright. Until... she's caught. Brent Bolland is the owner of the gym, and can easily throw her out. But one look at Cassandra, and his body starts acting up. He doesn't know the circumstances that must have brought her to him, but he intends for one thing.

She snaps, almost making me drop the books "Damn Fran, take it easy." I grin, arranging the books on the shelf. Reading has never been my strongsuit, something struggle with, but this setting is enough to make even me read. I go to the next box, and frown at the label - Erotica. "What is Erotica, Fran?" I yell, but she's busy yelling at someone to hear me. I open the box, and pull out the first book, and I frown even harder because it is titled - Your Dad Will Do, by a Katee Robert.

I always thought that mates were the only aspect of the werewolf community that I liked, having that one person who was made specifically for you, who will love and protect you for always sounded amazing, but I never for even a second thought that I’d get one myself. As I followed him deeper into the room, two boxes sat on the bed caught my attention, they weren’t there when I left for the balcony. Baron, seeing my interest in the boxes, releases my arm and walks towards the bed taking the first box in his hands. “This is what I sorted while you were having some fresh air, once I saw the magnificent photo you were able to create and the story you told me of how much you like drawing due to y

He sighs deeply, sitting on the edge of the bed, putting the box between us, “You are slowly leaning towards your wolf side and that is a good thing.” I don’t say anything because I don’t want to know what that means. “This is for you,” He pushes the box to me, “I picked up a few books from the library for you.” I flash him a small sincere smile as I pull the box to myself, opening it as I take out the books. “How are you faring?” Cyprian inquires friendly, drawing me in a way that makes me want to open up, search my deepest feelings and share it with him.

"All of them?" "Yes." I carefully unwrapped each box to find hardbound books in them. I laughed out loud, reading the titles. I picked the first one, looking at the erotic cover page where a girl is sitting in a man's lap. He is wearing nothing. "Married to my boss," I read the title. The second one has the hands of a girl, cuffed to the bed, "The Mafia Don's Pet." The other one has a guy with a pack, a body I am so familiar with and the photo I have taken while he was in the gym. "Did you really put this on a book cover?"

After about half an hour, she emerged. When she turned her gaze to the bed, she was startled to see a large box lying there. When she realized what it was, her brow furrowed and her eyes lit up. She ran to hug the box and open it while wearing only a towel around her body. When she saw the various international and local erotica books, her heart leaped with joy. She took them one by one from the box and placed them on her bed. She kissed every physical book. Nobody can express how happy she was. Jewel appeared uneasy with what she perceived as happiness coursing through her like a wild river, and if she could just eat the books, she would have.

He shook her from his mind and pushed open the doors to the study. The rug-lined room was bigger than B’s above-garage apartment. Floor to ceiling bookshelves dampened any noise B might made in his whiskey search. There didn’t seem to be a single inch of space on any one of the shelves. Books of all colors, textures, and sizes were packed together. In front of the book spines sat hundreds of little treasures–seashells, pocket watches, glass figurines, and carvings of creatures. So many creatures. B let his fingers drift over the book spines: The Picture of Dorian Gray. The Catcher in the Rye. The Odyssey. Brave New World. The Call of the Wild. White Noise. So many stories he’d never read and