Books With Beautiful Prose Novels & Stories

"This, coming from the man, who has set a gift on my nightstand every night since we were mated. He does this so I can wake up every morning and find it there. He hasn't missed a single day since then. Even when I gave birth. He placed it next to me and I looked over and about fainted. When he has to go away for business and I can't go with him, he plans the gifts ahead of time and has the boys place them out for me. When I asked him why, he simply stated, that everyday I am with him is the best gift I can give him, so he is just simply returning the favor." "Exactly, I see nothing wrong with that. Your joy everyday when you thank me is the best thing I could ask for. You never expect it but

ERICA The book in my hands was good. Too good. The kind of good that made you forget the world around you, that pulled you into a reality so immersive, you felt the weight of each word like it was your own story. I had been reading for hours, curled up on my bed, wrapped in the comfort of my oversized sweater, with nothing but the steady rhythm of rain tapping against the window to accompany me. It was one of those rare moments of peace, where time slowed, and nothing else existed except the pages in front of me.

he mentioned with determination, that explained the cleanliness and organization of the place. It was a good idea, giving the world the opportunity to discover the adventures written on each page in the thousands of books that this library could offer. “That would be amazing,” I considered, running my fingers along the spines of a row of books to dust them off and reread their titles, “Every story deserves to be read.” I mentioned taking Victor Hugo's Les Misérables. “That's a very good one.” He said closely looking at the book. His gray eyes shone with low intensity due to the low lighting, the chandeliers weren't much use but they were still beautiful grays that linked to mine effortlessly

I look over to where Primus had been sitting not so long ago. What's this? Primus left something behind. A book? Was this the gift he meant to give me? It is a small thing, dainty. I cannot imagine someone as large as Primus ever reading this because how could he ever hold onto it without breaking it? It looks so precious, and fragile. Even as a child, I can't imagine he would have been small or careful enough to read it. Gently, as if lifting a rose from a vase, I pick up the blush pink volume, marveling at the delightful texture of its silk binding, the title embroidered in gold. While I might not know many words yet, I know enough that I can read the title of this book.

A mirror stood on the opposite wall. Casually he walked toward the mini bookshelf and stared at the books, his thumb under his chin and his index finger curved and resting on his lips. He gave his keen attention to the books. His brows furrowed when he found all of them to be of the romance genre. "You like reading?" He asked rather casually pulling out one of the books and examining its cover and reading the content on the backside. Hooriya blinked at him, stupefied. What was even happening?

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He started to help her unpack her books, glancing at the spines as they started to shelve them in a tiny bookshelf that wouldn’t hold even half of her collection. Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Elizabeth Gaskell, John Keats, Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Charles Dickens—so many books, most of which had clearly been read over and over again. Some were falling apart, barely glued together. When he took out a copy of Frankenstein, the cover fell off entirely. “Oh, poor guy. This one has been through a lot.” Rose took the book from him, smiling. That smile burst something inside him. Something hot, something dangerous. Something that felt exactly like longing. He caught his breath and forced hims

not images, videos or screen shots are to be taken out of this book unless authorised otherwise. Its atotal Lgbt relation and if you find yourself uncomfortable reading it. Then please just dismiss. Little erotic and little romance to it.

She didn't look up as the cliffs gave way to the open road. "What’s so gripping?" I asked. My voice sounded thin in the plush cabin. She didn't speak. She just flashed a wicked, crooked grin and tossed the heavy hardcover into my lap. I flipped it over. The Art of Seductive Persuasion, Vol. 5 by Luna Runa. I felt my nose twitch in a sneer. "You have a mate, Selene. This is overkill." She gave me a look so flat and judgmental I felt it in my marrow.

I had never really observed them when I was here before. Most of the titles were academic—thick volumes on economics, finance, business strategy. But there were also novels tucked in between. Literary fiction, some thrillers, a few poetry collections. "Didn't know you read poetry," I called out. "Everyone needs a little beauty in their life," he called back. I smiled and continued browsing. Then I noticed something odd. There was a gap in the middle shelf, like several books had been removed. "Adam?" I walked toward the bedroom.