Boring Books For Bedtime Podcast Novels & Stories

The sudden darkness in the small bedroom felt heavy. I had packed four books for this trip. Four heavy, literary novels. I had a meticulous reading schedule mapped out in my notebook. I had even curated a playlist specifically designed for reading near water. Uncle David had a lot to answer for.. When sleep had refused to come to my eyes I carefully slid out from under the sheet. I heard a disturbing, weak sound in the mattress that made my heart stopped. I took a deep breath, then waited for the slow rhythmic breathing of baby max, across the hall to tell me that nothing had been disturbed.

I smooth it gently and tap the iPad in his hands. “Bedtime,” I whisper. “Let’s read a story instead of… whatever chaos you’re watching on that thing.” “Okay,” he sighed and reached for one of the books on his bed table. The back cover of the little pink book said, ‘Barney and Friends’. "You smart little man," I scatter his hair playfully and he giggled loudly. "Why's dad not back yet?" "He's... he's just busy. But I'll tell him to grab some ice cream on his way," I grinned but his face remained stiff.

she responded. “Adults can listen to bedtime stories too,” “You should take sleeping drugs if you find it difficult to sleep and maybe if you consume less caffeine you’ll sleep better,” she says. “Maybe. Maybe not,” I muttered. Only if she knows why I find it hard to sleep well sometimes. We settled into the living, and almost immediately I sat down and I saw Ryan’s call. “Good morning boss,” he greeted, “Good morning Ryan,” I said, “Sir. Marlo is here,” he said,

I sat with my back on the headboard while Aiden and Abby lay on either side of me, with their heads leaning against me as I told them as much as I could remember from one of the bedtime stories Celine and I were usually forced to sit through back at the foster home. We always found it boring and would be among the first kids to do off before she even read two lines from the story, the other kids would fall closely behind, it was that dreadful. But tonight, the kids found my old, half-complete, gap-filled story fascinating enough to listen to as I tried to lull them to sleep.

“I think if I have to read again about Corduroy losing his button, Swimmy and the school of red fish learning to overcome dangers together or Max being sent to bed without supper and traveling Where the Wild Things Are to become their king, I might be sick. Don’t we have any new books around here?” Juliet giggles and it fills me with so much joy, I nuzzle her neck as she replies. “Of course we do. There’s a whole shelf of them in her playroom. The problem is you let her pick. And if you weren’t so entertaining while you read to her—giving each character a different voice and acting out some of the parts—you might not have that difficulty. You’d bore her to sleep like I do.” “How else are you

There was something about the warm water and sweet-smelling bubbles that gave me laser focus, making it all too easy to lose myself in a book. My suitcases and boxes were brought up a few minutes later, and I set to unpacking everything. I realized how little I actually had when I placed my five favorite books on the nightstand beside the bed, stuffed my clothes in the gilded dresser, and turned to find myself with nothing left to do. Elijah always joked that I got into the most trouble when I was bored, which is exactly what I tried not to think about as I slipped from the bedroom and wandered down the hall.

I scrambled out of bed, deciding to use some of the books beside my bedside lamp and see if they’d do their jobs as good sleeping pills. I went through a few of them and picked the one I considered to be the most boring of them all. It was a debate of supernatural lore and the impact science would have on it. I opened the book, lying back and trying to read, and for the first few minutes, I observed that the sleeping power the book usually had on me was gone. In fact, I was even agreeing with some of the points in the first few pages before I caught myself and slapped it shut. “Damn it!” I groaned.

I run a hand through my hair and exhale, time to switch roles, no CEO, just Dad mode Getting Daren ready for bed becomes the one stable, predictable part of my Sundays bath, brush, change, he chatters at first half-formed sentences about games, friends, something about cake and a balloon that popped too loudly but halfway through brushing his teeth, his energy dips sharply. By the time he’s in bed, he’s already fighting sleep. “Story?” he mumbles, his voice thick with exhaustion. “Of course,” I reply, grabbing the book from the nightstand. The Bad Wolf. I barely get through the first paged his eyes are already closing, blinking slower and slower until they don’t open again, I stop reading, I

I whispered with a loving smile, "which story would you like tonight?" Mathew's face lit up with excitement, his tiny hands reaching for his favorite book. "The one about the brave little wolf, Mumma!" I chuckled as I opened the book, a captivating story about a young wolf's grand adventure. Mathew listened with rapt attention, his eager eyes fixed on the pages as I spun the tale of bravery and exploration. By the time I reached the part where the little wolf found solace under the silvery glow of the moon, my son was already fast asleep.

PROLOGUE Oops! I Slept in the Wrong Bed Some mistakes can be fixed with a simple apology. Some can be erased by simply forgetting they ever happened. But what if one mistake became the beginning of a story you never expected? Maeve Quinn Ramos is a hardworking, playful, and delightfully absent-minded college student who has just moved into a condominium near her university. Burdened by endless school requirements, sleepless nights, and a schedule that never seems to slow down, all she wants is to find a comfortable bed where she can finally get a good night's sleep.