Booktok Barnes And Noble Novels & Stories

Opal Saturday afternoon brought a gentle autumn rain to Savannah, turning the cobblestone streets slick and reflective. Seeking refuge from the drizzle, I took the triplets to E. Shaver, Bookseller—a cozy, labyrinthine indie bookstore filled with the comforting aroma of old paper, leather bindings, and dark roast coffee. "Stay together, please," I instructed softly, unwrapping my damp scarf as we navigated the narrow wooden aisles. "Mommy, can I look at the space books with the giant rockets?" Oliver asked, tugging on my sleeve, his dark eyes wide with excitement.

It was quiet, almost sacred, with sunlight streaming through the large windows and rows of books inviting me to lose myself in their worlds. I wandered through the aisles aimlessly until I stumbled across a section on business biographies. My fingers hovered over the spines until I spotted one that looked familiar: Against All Odds: The Rise of Evan Bennett. I pulled the book from the shelf, my heart racing. I hadn't known a biography about him existed. The cover featured a candid photo of Evan, his piercing eyes staring directly at the camera.

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No one has found the bodies yet, though, so theres still a lingering hope out there that they're alive. I sigh as I crawl under the thick quilt, flicking on the lamo beside me as I pull out my latest find at Barnes and Nobels: The Winter Garden by the famous Kristin Hannah. This woman's books are truly amazing. Then, after an hour long reading session, I find my eyes beginning to shut against my will, so I set down the book on the bedside table and shut off the lamp. ~ The next morning...

Of course, he didn’t fail to spot how the corners of her lips tugged just a tad bit higher at the sight of his simple gift. “You’re lively today,” he said with a slight chuckle. Per usual, he took a seat on the little stool situated beside her bed before setting the book on her lap. The Bennets’ old library was full of books, but most of them were ruined by either age, water, or termites, so finding an actually good book with complete, readable pages was not an easy task. “Feeling better?” “Yes, much better,” Isabella beamed at him and wasted no time to flip through the pages of the book on her lap. “You found another one. Thank you.”

And pulled out a paperback like she was presenting a newborn. The cover showed a shirtless man with a wolf in the background. I stared at it with the kind of horror reserved for secondhand embarrassment. Bailey slapped it on the counter. “For book club.” I read the title and nearly choked on my tea. ALPHA MOON: CLAIMED BY DESTINY. “Bailey,” I said, voice strangled, “I can not read this.” Bailey’s grin turned feral. “You absolutely can. And you absolutely will.”

I think it's for entertainment. I pass each column of shelves, eyeing those past-dusty books that have been written with a feather. "Did you find something?" I ask Benny. We both went separate ways. I'm sure that Benny is reliable enough to actually help us. "I got this book," he holds it up for me to see. "There's a huge family tree on some of the pages. It's also written." He walks to my side, handing the big book, but the book immediately touches the hard wood floor.

The crisp paper and musty smell of carpet and an ozone-like tang air condition welcomed us. “Old-fashioned bookstores. Nice.” A few selections of magazines and greeting cards on the racks behind the glass window. Sturdy old bookshelves of different books lining the walls and marching across the floor in rows. A small round table at the corner was holding a book in the display, and posters displaying popular books and discounts posted on the wall. “Not every day you’ll find a place like this,” she said. “What’s the headline today, Pete?” “Old man Bart’s has a new calf, dear,” An old man on the vintage chair with a newspaper in hand replied.

When they were out of the main drinking area, where the nightclubs and bars were located, Lucas allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. Ema would be pleased. After weeks of failure, they were positive that they would receive exactly what they had been looking for. Astor followed the smell to a little, independent bookshop nestled in between a thrift store and a vegan café. Over the door was a sign that proclaimed ‘Bookmark Haven’ in finely chipped gold paint. Indeed, the bookstore was closed, and all the windows in it were blind, but Lucas was convinced the individuals were still alive in the building.

His body’s gone too. For a moment, I stand still against the wall, half-expecting him to come back. Yet when I look behind me, I’m alone in the hallway. Son of a bitch. It’s morning, and I’m cutting the start of class to sneak to the bookstore. I have Debbie’s list of the popular BDSM series, but I don’t have to go far to find it. There’s a full display for it decorating an endcap. Debbie recommends the entire series, but I figure I better start with just the first. After consulting the list, I pluck the first one from the top of the shelf.