Evening And Weekends Book Novels & Stories

My name is Hendrix Wilker, and I'm a salesman. I had spent most of the month working outstation. This time, my boss sent me on another two-week business trip, and all I could do was resign myself to my fate. There was nothing I could do because I needed the money—even if that meant I had to work extra hard for it. After two weeks, I came back from my trip. However, unlike last time, I didn't tell my wife in advance because I wanted to surprise her.

He read it in twenty minutes—the whole of it, slowly, in the kitchen with the September evening at the windows and the south garden doing its seasonal work and the house quiet around them in the way it was quiet on Friday evenings when it was simply being held by the people who lived in it. When he finished, she sat for a moment without speaking. Then: "She was right." He looked at her. "About what?" "You're never too old for that one." A small smile. "No," he said. "I'm not." He closed the book. Set it on the table between them. The September evening. October, four weeks away. The first leaves beginning to turn beyond the windows. The house knew, as it always had, who was supposed to be in

Little did I know, the spark was about to become a raging inferno, courtesy of something far beyond the mortal realm. It started on a rainy Friday night. I’d come home exhausted from a long week, my blouse clinging to my skin from the downpour outside. I kicked off my heels, letting them thud against the hardwood floor, and poured myself a glass of merlot. The apartment felt emptier than usual; my last girlfriend had left months ago, citing my “workaholic tendencies” as the reason. Truth be told, I missed the warmth of a body next to mine, the soft curves and whispered promises in the dark. To distract myself, I rummaged through the old box of junk in my closet— relics from my rebellious pha

##Chapter 14: Cassidy Book One: Stay It's not quite seven in the morning as I run through the sleeping streets of the small-town Western University calls home. The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon, washing everything in a soft pink glow. The air is crisp, the leaves overhead vibrant in their orange, red, and yellow colors.

I took the time to say what I plan to do this weekend. "Hon, are you busy? If not we can buy baby Angela stuff and brother Axel school supplies for the next School year." I ask here. It's also December and the Anniversary of the Forrester Hotel is near. "No! Hon, actually we're talking about it. Just in case it looks like Tanya and I will be back next month, they're out of town. She's happy because Draeden seems to have taken her on the business venture.`` It's the answer.

Please remove the book and add it again to your library to see them. For your convenience, please do it after the weekends since the edits need my SE's (signed editor) for the sake of the content I'm giving you guys after editing. And, she doesn't work on weekdays. Give it time till Tuesday before adding the book again. (Sigh, the trouble I put everyone through. Forgive me if you can. Sorry?) Next this message is only for those readers who have added my book before 30th of May. Not after. And lastly, I just want to thank all you lovely people for reading my book and hanging. You have no idea how I feel seeing that one collection more to my book.

He did not say anything. He picked up his book. Opened it to the page he had been on. Did not look at it. I looked at the contract documents on the side table. Picked up the top sheet. Did not read it. The room was quiet. Outside the April light continued its unhurried movement toward the evening, the warmth of it at the angle of late afternoon, the city below doing what cities did at this hour — the particular shift of a late Saturday, the weekend register, the long slow permission of it.

Ben nodded. "If what we have read is true, they will sleep for three moons. " Ben said. He slid a book across the table as we all took a seat. It was a black leather book with veins on it. The title of the book read, "Book of Alacai" in bright red. I could smell the blood from the letters. "What is this?" I asked, looking up at Ben. " I asked dad to bring it.", Jordan said, taking the book away from me.

The library was quiet at this hour; the fire burned down to low coals, the estate settling into the particular stillness of an evening before something significant. I sat in my usual chair with a book open on my lap that I had stopped reading some time ago without noticing exactly when, and I thought about tomorrow.

But none of these books speaks of the ritual that Paul was speaking of. I closed the last book on the list, setting it above the four others that I’ve binge-read. I threw the comforter from bunching around my waist, swung my legs on the side of the bed and padded to the kitchen. I returned to my bed with the bottle of Chardonnay, laptop on my lap, while continuously glancing at my phone. Elijah was still radio silent, and I was feeling restless about it. My phone chimed. I grabbed it so quickly that my computer tumbled on my bed. It’s Eloisa, reminding me of our plans for the weekend. I sighed and typed a reply.