Donuts Book Novels & Stories

Maybe telling them there were even more guards watching the office would freak them out. Before I had to answer, they got distracted with their own tasks. At lunch, when I was about to ask if anyone wanted to order food, I saw Renzo talking to Ma’am Ava. He said something to her, and she nodded. A few minutes later, the door swung open, and the smell of freshly made food filled the room. "Alright, everyone! We’ve got lunch, no need to order or go out," Ma’am Ava said, smiling at me. "Courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. Moretti."

The book was upside down for the first twenty before I noticed. Last night had settled into me the way significant things settled — not loudly, not with the drama of the moment itself, but quietly, in layers, the way sediment settled at the bottom of water that had been disturbed. I kept returning to the same points. His hands. The way he confronted Bianca. I pressed my fingers against my sternum. Stop it Sofia. Read your book. Right side up. A knock at my door. Not Valentina’s — too quiet. Not Matteo’s — too measured.

You can access all the books + bonus content on her P*****n Page Mahi Mistry. P.S. Please ignore some of the misspelled words in the first few chapters. As they are explicit, I had to find a way around them so I could post those chapters. Thank you! Don't Date Your Best Friend Copyright © 2020 Mahi Mistry All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

I was standing still in between these two men and I could feel the temperature in the room increase. “Lorenzo,” Author’s Note:- Hey guys, do leave your comments below and like the book. Do follow me if you haven’t. Love you all, Take care.

I called again, moving toward the door but I got no answer. This guy is not only a nerd, he is also weird and somehow crazy. I wonder how I was going to cope with him when I joined his book club. I grabbed my phone off the table and unlocked it. As the screen popped on, messages flooded in. Group chats messages , especially the ones I've muted for a while now. ‘Arian Smith, Orleans College Book Club President, Accused of Misusing Club Funds.’ I blinked, trying to wake myself from the dream. I scrolled down, read it again and it was still the same.

All I wanted was silence. And the library—smug, dark, and lined with leather-bound delusions, Wilbet’s might I add—was the one place no one would dare look for me. The kind of room that existed for appearances, not use. The scent of old paper and wood was reassuring, if I didn’t think too hard about it. I ran a hand along the spines until I found a familiar title. The Economics of Prestige. Typical. Wilbet loved to decorate shelves with things he didn’t read. As if intellect could be bought and dusted. The fool.

And Luca Moretti had no intention of dying anytime soon. As he stepped into the cool night air, he straightened his shoulders and set his jaw. Time to put on the mask of the charming businessman, to hide the ruthless don that lurked beneath. It was a dance he'd perfected over the years, but tonight, for reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint, it felt more suffocating than ever. Little did he know, across town, a fiery redhead was burning the midnight oil, poring over documents that would soon turn his carefully constructed world upside down. The game was about to change, and Luca Moretti had no idea what was coming for him.

As they reached the cafeteria Noah saw they were selling real human sandwiches and real human doughnuts He breathed the biggest sigh of relief before he dashed over to the front of the queue leaving everyone else to follow slowly behind. Noah’s troubles began rising again as he asked the woman behind the counter for a triple fudge hot chocolate doughnut. To Noah it was exactly the kind of thing he needed to relax until she told him it cost him 3 doughnuts Then he remembered that doughnuts were currency in this world and began to get angry again. “I don’t mean you any disrespect but why is it costing me 3 doughnuts to buy just one edible doughnut? It even says on your display that it's a basi

"From 2019. Have you read it?" "Twice," I said. "The chapter on laminated dough is the best thing written on the subject." He put it back. Pulled out another. We were standing side by side in the food writing aisle of the Court Street bookstore, two people who had been going to this particular store for years doing the Saturday morning thing, and it was unremarkable in all the ways that mattered and entirely remarkable in the ones that didn't. "What have you been reading?" I said. "Novels mostly," he said. "I went through a long period of only reading work-adjacent things and I'm trying to correct it."

“I needed the consigliere’s signature on some documents and caught her coming out that door with messy hair and her dress unzipped.” Juliana’s complexion shifted from white to red, then to ashen. Her lips parted, but words failed her. Several capos exchanged whispers in the corner. Carlo Tutti was the consigliere, a man held in high esteem. His private suite was accessible only to the Don. Juliana clenched her wine glass, her knuckles white. “You’re mistaken.” “Maybe.” I speared a piece of steak and chewed slowly. “My memory is hazy, but you’re always throwing yourself at men. I’m sure you won’t mind a little gossip.”