Books Like Tom Lake Novels & Stories

he wasn't laughing and walked away with a long face. She thought it was adorable how he was being protective of her, even though they've only just met. She had no idea he wasn't trying to be cute. "You know, Tom's brother died in this lake," Samuel confided in her when they rested at the shore. "Oh my God, I had no idea," she gasped.

Adam scrolled down, his eyes scanning the titles, until they fell upon a book titled "Wolves and Their Subclasses." A surge of excitement coursed through him, and he couldn't help but hope that he had finally found the right place to uncover the mysteries of the Tyrex wolf. Gathering his resolve, Adam hastily made plans to visit Domino's Shop of Myths and Legends, eager to quench his thirst for knowledge once and for all.

"Well, he needs to face them, or else if Liam tries to do anything to seduce Lily again and use her as a backup, I will cut his dick off and feed it to my tiger." "Baby girl, you don't have a tiger," Logan deadpanned, and I chuckled. "Well, I'll ask grandpa to get me one," Effie suggested. "Name him Shere Khan, like from The Jungle Book, where he eats a little boy named Liam as a tasty meal." Isn't the boy's name Mowgli? "Ro, your overreacting." Logan's voice sounded amused by his girlfriend's false declaration of buying a tiger and feeding it with Liam Bits.

A thin layer of beautiful coral shrouded it, providing just enough space for the algae to absorb nutrients and just enough room for Tommy to slip his arm through to collect the algae that their sleeping beauty required. When Tommy got to the bottom of the lake, he was full of caution, knowing that a little error might have cost him his life and left his remains to be devoured by fish in the depths of the lake. His heart was racing faster. It had been shimmering nonstop since it had taken hold of his mind, he realized as the idea occurred to him.

Or was it? 'Tell me more about the bookstore,' Tom said after a minute, breaking the heavy silence. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his posture casual, but his gaze flicked to me often, like he was drinking in every detail. 'You light up when you talk about it, like it's your whole world. What's the best part?'

Then, with a gesture, he signaled Tom, who came forward with something that looked like a book. Diana furrowed her brow in curiosity. "What is this?" "Open it and see," John said. Diana nodded and flipped open the "book" in her hands. As she opened it, the hard paper unfolded into a pop-up 3D structure. Upon closer inspection, the book displayed a castle with an intricate sky garden. In front of the castle was a deep blue lake with a semicircular bridge arching across it. The details were exquisite, capturing the beauty of a fairytale scene.

Trevor jumped up and ran to his room to collect his work. “If that boy didn’t like you before, he does now,” Sue’s mother said. “You just made his year.” “I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t think he had potential.” Jake shrugged. “He might be the next Shakespeare.” “Or Mark Twain?” Luke asked. “Or him too.” “It would be great to be related to Mark Twain. I love Tom Sawyer. That kid is clever.” “Since Trevor won’t be finishing his breakfast, I will,” Jeremiah said and dumped the food on his plate. “Now he’ll be working on his stories all day instead of helping me.”

I yipped in protest, but he just chuffed back. When Tom’s wolf took off running around the lake, I followed. I didn’t make a habit of letting my wolf out often enough. Having that safety to do so in Pack territory was a luxury I’d long since forgotten. We ran around the lake on a path that he clearly used regularly. It was no wonder no other shifter had built around the lake. Tom had marked the full perimeter of it. We splashed across small creeks feeding into the lake and over some boulders on the higher side. It was a perfect run and I was wiped by the time we made it back to his cabin.

I ask, wondering if I have enough to pay for them. “You forgot, didn’t you?” Tom asks, but he sounds proud. “Don’t worry about it, let’s get back to Shelley's so I can show you what I’ve got.” *** What Tom has got isn’t much to look at. A London A to Z street map, and the cardboard packaging box for a set of headphones, now sitting on Shelley’s coffee-table. “They both glow a bit when I look through the had-stone,” he tells us. “There’s a book in the box. It was with a bunch of other books on a shelf.”

He looked at me the way a man looked at a woman who had just thrown him a small simple object he had not known he had been waiting to catch. "...A book about lakes." "...Lakes." "Yes. A small naturalist's volume. Eastern lakes. Hand-illustrated. Maps of the trout runs. My brother had it when we were children. He took it everywhere. I have not opened it in fifteen years." "Where is it now?" "...In my study. Bottom drawer of the bookshelf nearest the window. Wrapped in oilcloth." "You wrapped it in an oilcloth." "...Yes." "You have been carrying around a small naturalist's volume of eastern lakes wrapped in oilcloth in the bottom drawer of your study for fifteen years."