Books To Read To Get Back Into Reading Novels & Stories

he called back, his voice warm as sunlight. The sound of the door clicking shut was the last thing I heard before sleep reclaimed me, pulling me back into its embrace. *** I found myself rummaging through a stack of books that likely belonged to Jacob from his university years. None of them were fiction. These were all about life lessons and self-improvement. Titles like Rich Mindset and Atomic Habits caught my eye, their well-worn spines suggesting they had been thoroughly read. But one title stood out above the rest, stopping me cold:

It seemed like the perfect time to immerse myself in my reading. I wasn't a romantic woman so the novels that revolved around a love story seemed very boring to me. The book I was reading was suspenseful and I was very intrigued, I was so immersed in the story that I was really scared when my alarm went off. I grabbed my phone and read the reminder. It was time to study. I turned the page I was reading and put the book on my desk.

I don't know that he literally wants to read these books that I recommend him to read. These books are what I really like. I really meant to put those books here for Ken to read, I didn't expect it because those were the exact books that he read it here. Before he woke up from my gaze, I returned to the table and quietly did my work there. I just want to feel what it's like to work with these books around me, it's not bad and it seems like I'm going back in time because the smell of books is what I'm smelling.

he couldn’t help but add, “I don’t want to discourage her from reading in general.” Mrs. Gentry scribbled a note on the paper in front of her. “Certainly not. I know how much of a struggle it can be to get kids to read these days, especially with phones and the Internet and TV distracting them. Books are boring, they tell me. It’s a pleasure to see Emma remaining interested in reading.”

A reader? I feel drawn to the shelf like a moth to a flame. My fingers trail over the spines — classic literature, philosophy, ancient history. Lost in the titles, my eyes land on a beautiful leather-bound edition of Wuthering Heights. I rise onto my toes, straining, my fingers just brushing its edge. It wobbles and then falls from the shelf with a heavy thud that sends a cloud of dust into the air making me sneeze twice.

I praised and adored my body while I scrolled through the pictures of me on my phone. "What else can I do?" I questioned myself. It was past midnight already but I couldn't allow myself to just sleep and let this chance slip like some slimy shit on a layer of butter. I went to his library and I found totally amazing books; romance novels, books on business, motivational books, etc. I went for the romance novels and fortunately for me, I was able to complete two of them; a fast reader, uhn. As I started with the third one, I was already feeling too sleepy. I was tempted to lay on my bed, keeping the book to my face. The more I tried to read, the more sleepy I was.

There were no scattered papers, no late-night calls, no decisions made in the glow of a screen, just books everywhere, and that was all I needed tonight. I pulled a book from the shelf without looking at the title. It was fiction. I had not read a story for fun in over a year. I slipped into the big armchair by the window, opened it, and read the first paragraph, nothing sank in. I read it again. Something in me finally stopped resisting. I let myself focus on the book, and the room was quiet around me. This time, the words began to draw me in. I wasn’t just tired from lack of sleep, it was a deeper kind of tiredness, the kind that comes from spending months being two different people in one

He said what are you reading. She told him. He said I tried to read that. He said I got sixty pages in and put it down and then felt guilty about putting it down for three weeks. She said that is the book. She said some books are for feeling guilty about for three weeks. He said that seems like a design flaw. She said no. She said the guilt means it got under your skin. She said you will pick it up again. He said you think so. She said yes. She said the ones you feel guilty about are always the ones you go back to. He said like people.

“I won’t be home, dear, but go ahead. You know the library’s always open for you.” I hesitated for a beat, that polite pause where doubt tries to whisper, stay home, don’t drive, just rest. But I ignored it. I needed the quiet comfort of old pages more than I needed air. When I arrived at the villa, the staff greeted me with their usual warmth, smiles that reminded me not everyone wanted something from me. I returned the old books carefully, letting my fingers brush against the spines before picking new ones that called to me. Titles about love, loss, and rebirth. And a random fictional romance I didn’t even read the blurb of, I just wanted to feel something again.

As much as he wanted to sit in the plush corner next to the library to dig in, he didn't have the luxury of time. “Look at this many books. Mommy is going to love this place. Everything looks so good, I want to read every book on the shelves.” David chuckled, completely distracted by his search. He needed to find it. It was the only way he could get things done. The only way he could finally claim what belonged to him. Eli was so excited, he was talking about one of the books he read; Atomic Habit. According to him, this book sharpened him more than he thought any book could.