Distraction Book Novels & Stories

Welcome, reader. You made it! You’ve opened this book. That means one of two things. You’re looking to spice up your evening, your morning, or your lunch break (no judgment), OR you accidentally clicked the wrong title and now you’re really curious about what “Lust, Caution” is actually all about. Either way, I’m thrilled you’re here.

I say shortly. The flight attendant offers me a glass of whiskey, and I accept it with a nod, hoping it might dull the sharp edges of these unwanted thoughts about that little firecracker. I open my laptop, hoping to do some work to distract myself. I stare at the screen of my laptop, the open document in front of me remaining blank. I type a few words, then delete them. My concentration fragmented. This isn't like me. I don't get distracted. I don't lose focus especially not because of some... sentimental attachment.

I can choose a much thinner book… The 33 Strategies of War- Robert Greene I stared at it for a while, and then I shrugged the thought and went back to the table. Minnie ignored me and didn't even look up to see what I got. She's too engrossed with the book that I think she wouldn't even notice me leaving. I glanced at the book again and decided to start reading.

What am I doing? And this is not about Richard, by the way. It’s absolutely unrelated. It’s simply my life. I need … I don’t know. A new direction. A different energy. There’s a book lying on a nearby chair and I reach for it. It’s called The Reverse Principle: Change Your Business Strategy Forever, and 10 million copies sold!! is stamped across the cover.

I whispered in his ear “let me try something.” I pulled out the same journal. I took it with me and flipped it to a page i marked earlier. A passage about “distraction rituals” – very simple spells that would create illusions and misdirect attentions. It was risky, and I had no idea if it would actually work, but it was worth it.

The movement was calculated, designed to give him a full view of my leg. The dress hiked up a little. "Distractions?" he prompted, his expression unreadable. "Yes. Distractions," I repeated, pushing the water glass aside. I stood up and walked the short distance to the table, placing one hand on its cool surface, leaning in closer to him. The scent of my expensive perfume, jasmine and musk should now be fully in his space. "You and I both know the business world is full of them. But sometimes," I whispered, my voice thick with implication, "the distraction is the opportunity."

But she… didn’t flinch. Lena walked over to a little table display and picked up a thin, cloth-bound book. She walked over to him, holding it out like an offering. *The Quiet Between Lightning Strikes.* A poetry book. The cover was old and nubbly, the title scribbled in fine silver ink. Julian stared at it like it was an alien thing. "What's this?" "A book," she said, smiling. "I told you. I don't—"

You can read the book for curiosity's sake but not reading the book will not disturb the flow of the story so enjoy ! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

'Sources close to the program. 'Questions about team cohesion.' 'A dynamic that has drawn internal concern.' No names on record. Nobody willing to be attached to a direct quote. Just the architecture of suggestion, the careful framing of the bar photo and the profile piece and the sideline moment from game one, all of it arranged not as a football story but as something else. A distraction narrative. A liability story. 'There's that word again.' Distraction appeared four times. I counted. I put my phone face down on my knee. I looked at the windshield. The lot was mostly empty now, a few cars left, the overhead lights doing their orange thing against the dark.

There was just the perfect amount of light to make her see the text of the book. She began reading the first opening lines of the book but soon realized, to her annoyance, that the hum of voices she’d heard when she’d been beneath the balcony was not fainter here, as she’d hoped, but even louder—by some trick of architecture or sound---and clearer, and even more distracting. Oh damn. She snapped the book shut. Bits and snippets of conversation and groans…? Carried to where she sat. she tried to deafen herself, to block out the voices by focusing hard on the book, but she had never been good at reading in noisy areas, and to be honest, had always been easily distracted, and so in the end, she