Books Set In Idaho Novels & Stories

A paper book rested in his hands while multiple surveillance feeds played silently across the large screen before him, displaying views of both the interior and exterior of the bunker. After the Frostfall, without the burden of work, his life settled into a steady rhythm. He had grown fond of reading. Some books had come from the library. Others had belonged to Severin. The one in his hands now was "Ordinary World" by Lucas Wayworth. Reading it in this era carried a strange weight. The ordinary days described in its pages were gone forever. The ordinary world itself now lay buried beneath endless ice and snow. Yet one thing remained unchanged. Human beings, resilient by nature, would struggl

I was all dressed up to go out. I heard a chime from my phone while it was charging. I rushed to it, placed the script down, and saw a text from Clark. He would be going home soon from his early holiday and asked where I was; I replied, stating that I was at Big Bear with the family. He told me that he couldn't reach Effie, then I told him that she stayed with her family at Morongo Casino for Seth's birthday and added that it probably has low reception. I laughed when Clark sent a sad emoji indicating he felt left out. I texted him back, ranting about him leaving us on his early holiday. It must be nice to be rich. I said that already, didn't I?

Calm Before the Storm (Isabella's POV) The library smelled like old paper and cedar polish. Sunlight slanted through tall windows, catching dust motes that floated lazy in the air. I’d slipped away after the snowball fight, cheeks still pink from cold and laughter, needing quiet to sort through the mess inside my head. Shelves stretched high, packed with leather-bound books that looked older than the pack itself. I pulled one down at random, thick, dark cover stamped with a crescent moon. Ancient Mate Bonds: Stories of the Moon Goddess’s Gift and Curse. My fingers traced the title. I sank into a worn armchair, opened it, and started reading.

I was late morning when Tristan entered the room pulling my head of the book, I looked at him in slight amazement. “We have the conference call in twenty minutes.” He greeted stepping into the room as I looked up. “What?” He asked and I held up the book. “Tristan, this book.” I stated not really knowing how to explain it. “It’s a novel, just a story that I found in the library, but it’s based on a family of werewolves, the two daughters, twins, were born with a special gift, they could produce fire and ice.” I uttered and watched as his brows rose. “They later became joint alphas of the their pack. Do you think this could be the story of the alpha twins that we were looking for?”

Therefore, Miguel believed that the second option must be true, and it gave him hope that if they could get hold of this book, the spell it contained would surely help them contact Nadir in the Underworld and get the message across. - We have to find this book, at all costs.- Miguel was talking to himself as he searched the internet for places selling old books, especially on the subject of magic or esotericism. And he really did thought so - for Miguel was ready to get rid of all his savings, if only to get his hands on the book. Additionally, Nadir left behind not only her belongings and clothes, but also quite a lot of money earned while working at the bar. As it was all cash, Miguel gave

I spent the first 34 years of my life in Alaska, land of the midnight sun, but these days I'm located in Washington, and am enjoying a much warmer sun :) I'm married to my high school sweetheart, John, who is known to bring me flowers "just because" My leisure time is filled with gardening, sewing, art and reading. Connect with me online at: www.autumndawnbooks.com http://authorautumndawn.blogspot.com Bibliography: Spark Series: When Sparks Fly Dorchester No Words Alone Dorchester Solar Flare Anthology for the Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance: Hemlock & Iron Indie books: Dark Lands Series in order: The Charmer Dark Lands: Homecoming Scent of Danger The Golden Bell Ghost in Her Heart

I wandered through the compound until I found myself in the library, as usual. I browsed the shelves for a while before pulling out a thick book about the northern territories. The book was old, the pages yellowed and crinkled with age, but the hand-drawn illustrations were still beautiful. I got comfortable in one of the chairs near a window and began to read. Most of the content was about trade routes and pack histories, but one chapter caught my attention. It described the far northern mountains—the ones beyond the Thornwood, where no one ever set foot.

Mouthing the words, ‘I love you’, he closed the door behind him. Arthur studied her for a moment. Her quickness to defend the place before he’d had an opportunity to say what he thought about it didn’t go unnoticed. He hadn’t had any firsthand exposure to Center Land, but he’d heard varied tales about it. They ranged from brainwashing the children who were being trained as soldiers for the surface to segregating the children who showed promise from the ones who were lacking. He hoped that the stories about them disposing of those lacking in the most horrific ways imaginable -mainly, feeding them to the ever threatening beasts that roamed about- were just stories, but he had his concerns.

She raised her hand and with her index finger she brushed the books, reading their titles. There were some that said "satanic pacts" others like "the call of the devil" "the forest and its hidden side" "small town legends" "werewolves and the full moon" and the last one said "Wisconsin Cases". Camila took out that last one, the book was big, it had a red cover with the image of the town itself. But that image was in black and white, as if it was taken years ago.

The force of gravity in the room seemed to suddenly increase, threatening to drag her to the floor. Get over it. You knew damn well this was going to happen. Just . . . move on. She looked over her shoulder to finally take in the rest of the space. Her father’s bed lay inside one of the corners, the mattress a size too small for a man of his height and covered with the same camo blanket that rested on her own. A large bookcase lined one wall, its contents a hodgepodge of classic and paranoid—“Survivalist,” Emma corrected herself—literature. She scanned the titles. Finding Tom Sawyer and The Anarchist’s Cookbook resting beside each other conjured demented scenes of the scamp lobbing improvise