Cannery Row Novels & Stories

Someone inside the Ashford Pack wants the outer villages to starve, and they want me to take the blame for it. Rowan crouches by the water, inspecting a broken crate with heavy, calloused fingers. His jaw is tight, shadowed by stubble. He stands up, shaking water off his gloves, and looks across the wide, gray expanse of the river. We are not alone.

Austin Nocturn Number 20. Chopin's haunting melody perfectly portrays my mood when I step into the threshold. The classical number permeates the walls of Cane Estate. Mother lounges in the parlor with a glass of what I'm assuming is her 10th cocktail for the day. She greets me with a Bourbon Old Fashioned instead of a motherly hug or kiss. It would be too much for Mrs. Cane to show affection. Even to her son. A week is not a long enough distance.

Only one horse remained in the outdoor arena—a big bay warmblood named Titan, still damp from his cooldown bath, ears flicking lazily as flies danced around him. Rowan Caldwell, thirty-eight, leaned against the top rail of the arena fence, forearms resting on the weathered cedar. His faded navy work shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing forearms corded from years of holding reins and pitchforks. Sweat darkened the fabric between his shoulder blades. A week’s worth of stubble shadowed his jaw, and his hazel eyes—usually steady, almost unreadable—kept tracking the girl who was still inside the barn putting tack away.

Not here. Not like this. Rowan’s grip never loosened And somewhere beyond the pain Beyond the fracture The bond fought back. ---

I only had a year to find my answers, no distractions was a good way to start. "Venus, honey, are you ready?" My mom called me from the kitchen, as I opened my bedroom door. "Yes, mom be right there." I called back. Walking towards the kitchen, I was singing Famous Last Words out loud. "I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone, honey if you stay I'll be forgiven, Nothing you can say can stop me going home. Can you see my eyes are shining bright? Cause I'm out here on the other side of a jet black hotel mirror and I'm so weak..."

Starved Passion::: '.....His mouth nibbled on her breast as his hand finds it way back to her already pussy, he sucked and nibbled on her nipples making her wetter, the woman moaned and moved her hand all the way down his back to his butt. Mrs Sara's son surged in his Cock into her the woman's wet opening as her legs wrapped around his waist, the palm of his both hands rested on both sides of her head, his mouth came crashing on hers as he moved his waist up and down.

"You've been to the other end of town? The literal other?" "No." She shook her head, wondering what he was on about. The guy seemed to understand the confusion on her face. "You know the town's a bowl valley? The faces of the rocks back your side of town." "Have you been up the road way after the ranch?" The bartender butted in as he slid a chilled fuzzy orangey drink to her. "Citrus Mommy," he announced proudly. "Ah," Baron said. "The famous Citrus Mommy. The magic of last year. You throw a mix of . . ."

Mensah and as she looked at them in casual clothes, looking all sweet, she couldn't help but ask, where they were going. "Just to the beach Mama, wanna come along?" Louisa responded as she leaned in to smell a sunflower. Her mother seemed to think about it for a moment, and then eventually agreed. As they all made themselves comfortable in the car, Naa Larley couldn't help but shout, "To the beach we go!" Everyone laughed at her crazy antics. *****

The morning sun streams its way through the blinds, slowly creeping across the carpet until it remains on Sera's face like a spotlight. The light is a gentle reminder that it's time to wake up. Sera rolls over to face the wall and escape the sun, which is growing brighter and brighter by the minute. She finds herself unable to wake from this new dream. For months, the handsome stranger was just out of reach, and now she can feel him somewhere within the deepest parts of her. She refuses to let that go. Not soon after she rolls away from the impending morning does she begin to hear the raucous noise of the garbage truck hunkering its way down her dead-end street. Sera clamps her eyes shut. Ti

Kazumawent to the Poman church, Zastvil to the Rosmavs, and Zalmar to Dopula's at the Bell-ringers' Corner. It was dark when they met again at the shore by the landing. Kazuma's men were sitting already in the boats. The ferrymen were still carrying in packages. The cold wind blew from the neighboring point where the river entered the Danstar, and the night gave no promise of being very pleasant. By the light of the fire burning on the bank, the water of the river looked bloody, and seemed to be running with immeasurable speed somewhere into the unknown gloom. “Well, happy journey to you!” said the old man, pressing the lieutenant's hand heartily; “but be careful of yourself!”