Books Like The Westing Game Novels & Stories

“If your room’s a complete dump, Zeke, I won’t be surprised. You look like the type to hoard a vast amount of mismatched socks and massive, soul-crushing secrets.” He rolls his eyes, opens the door— —and my breath catches, freezing the retort on my tongue. It’s bright. Too bright. The walls are a soft, pale white, the curtains a gentle yellow. The room is immaculate. Clean. Organized. Cheerful, even. Like a child's. A few soft, brightly coloured stuffed animals line the shelves beside… several intricate Lego creations and a pile of graphic novels. I blink repeatedly. “This is… completely insane.”

The library was quiet, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows. Anna sat alone at the far corner, the mysterious book, The Reflection Game, spread open before her. Her finger traced the intricate designs on the yellowed pages, her heart pounding with both excitement and unease. The cryptic instructions whispered to her, their meaning elusive but tantalizingly close. She didn’t understand why she felt so drawn to the book, but she couldn’t let it go. It was as if the book had chosen her, as if it were calling her to uncover its secrets.

I love all different kinds of music, so there’s a little something for everyone. 3. I write all different kinds of books. If you’re interested, you can find my other books on these platforms: a. GoodNovel: Trio of Mates Series: 4 werewolf books that take on the idea of what would happen if one of the leadership was gay and couldn’t produce an heir. Lots of very graphic smut. (completed)

Master asked. "Probably what he said was he didn't like to play with me. I usually beat him. These neighborhood games tend to be boring for me. I end up taking everyone's money. I tend to doubt this game will be as boring as most of them for other reasons." "Really," Master said. "How so?" "I've played in the World Series of Poker a few times. I never made it to Las Vegas, but I've been to the regionals a couple times." Master laughed. "Well that should make it more interesting. Did my slaves explain the rules of the game to you?"

but now there were too many unknowns spines sitting on the dusty, wooden shelves. I started running my fingers over the spines of all the books. Reading the titles off of the white paper that was pasted on their spine. I didn't know where to begin, I didn't know which book would give me answers to my questions. Maybe I should've grown a pair and asked the witch but lord it was so scary to be there, I just didn't want to risk it after I had gotten a way to fix myself. My eyes suddenly fell on a very familiar, red leather cover bound book which was as huge as my face. I took out "A history of the first wolf", remembering all the numerous times I had dragged my brother Apollo here, so he could

“Oh great! So you’re insane AND delusional! Fantastic!” “If I can just find a hardware store nearby, I can get started on a prototype. It really doesn’t seem so hard.” Weston, in lieu of an answer, starts to close the books displayed around Millan on the floor. “Hey! I’m reading those! I just have to put down a plan first... Will you please stop?” Millan tries to get the books back, but Weston’s way too strong and keeps getting the upper hand, shoving them on the shelves.

I like taking my time, that way, I can get used to the idea of living with Xander. Sitting behind the counter in the bookstore, I listen to Vincent talking to his cars while I place an order for new books. One of those books is The Art of War by Sun Tsu. I want to read it and see why Alexei loves it so much. My thoughts turn to the BBQ, and I must admit, I enjoyed it a lot. And Rosemarie was right. Everyone seemed pretty normal. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe guns and men smoking cigars while plotting the end of the world?

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.

“When will you bring Darin to me? Is it possible to really possible to raise someone from the dead?” Roman said. “Nothing is impossible. All I need is the right spell, I’m waiting for the book to come to me.” West lied. He was stalling because he was still trying to locate Peter. There was no way he could do a locator spell because he had never seen Peter nor did he possess any of his belongings. “What book?” Roman said. “Oh, it’s a book of spells, mostly ancient spells. It goes to each witch in the city, it stays for a certain period and then goes to another. Witches should stay in colonies to reduce the duration of the cycle.” West explained.

“Though I must admit, I expected you to have read the family rules by now. I thought Mathew delivered them to you days ago?” I frowned. “Family rules?” Her brow lifted, elegant and amused. “The West Family Code and Compendium. Surely you’ve seen it? Leather-bound, gold trim, embossed crest?” My stomach dropped. Oh. That massive brown book sitting on my dresser. Indeed, Mathew had brought it four days ago, but I couldn't read it because of how stressed out I was — from finding my daughter to meeting Detroit ‘on his death bed’, to getting dragged into a wedding I didn't plan for.