Novel & Cerita Emilia Rose Books

I just felt that what Joanna did for this man was not worth it. In order to take revenge, she ended herself too. Does the Little Prince really love roses? I didn't know. But what I knew was Jeffrey was definitely not the Little Prince, and I was not a rose imprisoned in a glass case. My future had infinite possibilities.

“I…I… I may have slept with someone else.” My eyes went wide. Safe and predictable Emilia did what? “With who?” “Don’t hate me,” she sulked. “Spill the beans, Lilly!” “With Rocco.” My jaw hung open. I laughed and clapped my hand over my mouth. “This isn’t funny!” “Sorry, you’re so different! You’re so safe Lilly and Rocco’s a loan shark. He has an escort service. Do you know that?” Lilly blushed. “I do. I did it anyway.”

''I'm pretty sure there's a lot of things you don't know about me too,'' I mutter, picking up one book from the shelve. Elia breathes out, ''Of course. I don't know you but I'm guessing you don't even like political issues.'' Then, I roll my eyes—putting the book back down. I look at him, seeing that he has a playful smile on his face; showing how he's just fooling around. ''You caught me,'' I walk towards the Romance section; looking at the books that isn't too cliché or too cheesy. As he stops beside me, he picks up a book that I didn't seem to realise earlier, Fifty Shades of Grey which makes my eyes widen before laughing, ''You have a bad taste in books,'' I say, looking at a book called

Rose said she walked past me to stand two steps away from Emmett. “You mean how I restored your legs and saved you from Gibson's killer medicine? Yeah, they have to know that as well.” Emmett wore a cocky smile, his fist folded by his like he was holding himself from touching Rose. “What!” Beatrice blatted with wide eyes, pulling Morris close to her.

Emilia's mind was still reeling from the intense argument between her daughters. Her whole life revolved around Aida and Emma. When there is a small fight between them, it pains Emilia. Tucking Emma in her bed, kissing her good night Emilia approached Aida's room. She wanted to have a little chat with Aida. She wanted to tell Aida that she is going to fix everything. Emilia wanted to tell Aida, that she is not just her mother but also a friend. She wanted to clarify that both of them, Aida and Emma, have equal space in her heart.

Zeke called down. I climbed back up. “There’s a chest and this weird book, I don’t know. But nothing is in the book.” “The cover says Ghost Stories.” Wyatt pointed out. I swear the cover was blank before. I sighed and handed it off to Hunter. “It must be enchanted or something.” Hunter opened the book. “Who is Captain Rowell ‘The Cruel” Swale?” “I don’t know,” I answered. “Why?” “There’s a story in here about him.”

"Well, I always seeing you read werewolf books in the library why?" "Well, one I love werewolf romances. The whole idea of the one person who is made for you and that will love you forever it makes me hope for true love. And two a few weeks I had a weird dream about werewolves. Don't worry I know they are not real" "Emelia I need to tell you something. Please don't freak out but werewolves are real. I am one." I start laughing out the pit of my stomach. "You know you sound crazy. But thank you I needed that."

“If you’re reading this, it means you’ve found the truth. Esteban can be trusted. He’s your only ally. Protect him. The future depends on it.” Her father’s handwriting. Before she could react, the wall behind Esteban exploded inward, sending them both crashing to the floor. Smoke poured in, and shadows loomed in the haze. Gunfire. Esteban shoved her behind the overturned desk. "Run!" "Not without you!" "They’ll kill you!" She kissed him, fast and fierce, then slipped the folder into her apron and sprinted for the bookcase. Shots whizzed past her, one grazing her arm. She cried out but didn’t stop.

Not because I was disgusted but because someone else was touching what was mine. Emilia remained on the bed, hair disheveled and her chest rising and falling in quick breaths. Her lips were parted, her thighs still trembling, and her eyes were fixed on me. She tried to mask the fear within them but I could see it. We were alone and it frightened her.

Inside were her clothes, her books, and her drawings. He walked to the desk and saw a neat stack of sketch paper. On every sheet was his face. One showed his profile when he was focused on work, another captured the gentle curve of his smile, and others showed the deep creases on his forehead when he was serious. Each one was drawn with painstaking care. Silas' hands trembled as he flipped to the last page. It was a sketch of him sleeping, with a small note scrawled beside it. 'Silas, rest when you're tired. I'll always be waiting for you—Chloe.'