Cult Books Fiction Novels & Stories

After resting for a while, they walked around and saw a bookstore which they both agreed to enter. She was reading the back of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen when Jacob asked her. “What do you say let’s read horror books? Like the ones we watched today?” “Eh? I’m scared. You go read first, then give me a summary, then I’ll decide. Haha!” “Roger!” as he picked The Dunwich Horror and Others by H.P. Lovecraft and IT by Stephen King. They finished book shopping, it was around three in the afternoon when Jacob invited her to go somewhere else.

Some canvases were broken, as if in frustration. Next, I visited the library. Many of the books were old and hopelessly confusing. Most incomprehensible of all were the ritual books, which made up the bulk of his library. There were only a few novels, and judging by the dust, they hadn’t been touched in years. Evidently, Salem was not the sort of man who read for pleasure.

For the first time, Cathedra had someone who didn't cringe every time she opened her mouth to speak. So this is what having a friend feels like, huh? Cathedra thought to herself. One lunch break, while waiting for Diane underneath the tree, Cathedra was scribbling a draft of her first novel in her notebook. The novel contained the scenes she saw in the storybook, back in her kindergarten days. Since that day at kindergarten, she didn't tell anyone what she saw in the storybooks anymore. The thought of seeing things that other people couldn't still terrified her but she tried hard not to think about it by avoiding any book she can see other than school books and textbooks.

Rows of towering bookshelves stretched into the gloom, filled with books bound in leather that looked suspiciously like skin. "Where do we start?" I whispered, overwhelmed. "Section X," Killian said, walking straight to the back. " The Anomalies." We spent hours pulling books. The Red Moon of 1402. The Feral Plague. The Betrayal of the South. Dust coated my fingers. My back ached. But I kept reading. "Here," Killian said suddenly. His voice was tight. I rushed over to the table where he was standing. He had a massive, crumbling book open.

And find out if there was any way to fix it. As she drove, Caitlin thought again of the rare books she had found in her library. Most of all, she that of that one rare volume, and its torn page. She thought of its ancient ceremony, the one in Latin, with its cure for vampirism. She wondered again if it was real. Was that just passed down from folklore? An old wives’ tale?

“Thank you. I was starting to think you’d make me wait forever.” Hey everyone!! Please joing my Facebook page Jessica White Author Page or follow me on Instagaram @author_j_white for upcoming works and giveaways. Also, I'd love it if you gave my other stories a try. I have an 8 book series (so far) of stand alone stories, but only four are on Goodnovels right now. I should have the others up soon. The Series is -Tessa Ignites -Tessa's Wolves -Cursed -Hexom -The Ranger -The Darke King

"Go. Browse. Get lost." I did. I lost myself in the fiction section, running my fingers along spines, reading first lines, falling into the rhythm of book shopping that I'd forgotten I loved. Ronan never wanted to spend time in bookstores—he said they made him claustrophobic. But I could have lived in a place like this. I chose three books: a literary novel about a woman reinventing herself after divorce, a poetry collection, and a thick fantasy epic I'd been meaning to read for years.

Hi there lovely readers! Here's a list of my other works you can probably find on certain apps/sites. -*-*-*- 1) Incubus' Blood Harem [male oriented book | W E B N O V E L] 2) Femme Fatale: The Queen Of Chess - Completed. [W E B N O V E L | C H E R E A D S] 3) Sex Delicacies [M O B O R E A D E R] 4) His Wife Is My Lover - Volume one, completed.

I could do that. Next stop was a bookstore I'd passed a few times. Olivia had mentioned once that she loved cookbooks, not just for the recipes but for the stories behind them, the photographs, the way they captured culture and tradition. The bookstore owner, a young man with rectangular glasses and an impressive beard, was stocking shelves when I entered. "Help you find something?" he asked. "Cookbooks," I said. "Something special. Not just recipes, but... stories. Culture. Something with meaning."

As I perused the books, I could feel Aidan’s gaze on me. The shop, much like the one downstairs, boasted an impressive selection. These were books to be enjoyed in the coffee lounge, not purchased or taken home. A smile tugged at my lips as I reached the romance novel section. So, Well Thumbed had these too. I wondered if they had hidden gems, perhaps something I hadn’t read or that Uncle Alex’s book club, Bound To Please, hadn’t discovered yet.