Extreme Love Of Books の小説・ストーリー

Would you still want to read— why are you smiling at me like that? I blushed, not even realising I was smiling as I watched him blabber on about the book. It was honestly endearing to see him speak so passionately about the book that it actually rendered me momentarily thoughtless. “Nothing. I just didn’t realise that you’re as much of a book lover as I am and Maximus,” I said in response. “I’m not. It’s just that when I read a really good book, it really strikes me and would stay in my mind for years. I’ve read it multiple times already because I love amazing things, you know, and I make sure to remember amazing things.”

“Hey, that’s cheating. You said we were only picking three books, but you’ve got four.” She grinned. “I just couldn’t resist this one. I’m definitely checking it out.” I shrugged, not wanting to argue. Chloe had always been a bookworm, even before I knew how to read. We headed to the counter and placed our books down. Chloe glanced at mine and then back at me. She knew I never typically picked up books written by men, especially ones about love. She always said men didn’t understand love the way women do, that they weren’t made to feel as deeply.

– I'm full of fear, when I think about the possibilities of not working out. — Never doubt your potential, my love – he says – it may seem suspicious for your mother to tell you that, but I smell a good romance from afar. You know me well, and you know it's not something that holds me back. And I knew. Desirée had a bookcase full of books. Most were novels, and many of them were read to the fifth page. If she didn't like the first five pages, she dropped the story without even thinking about it. I got tired of seeing her donate or exchange books for others, because she just didn't get attached. But there were the excellent ones that made her sigh at the corners of the house and cry her eyes

“She loved reading, so she built a library. Want to see something interesting?” **********************************

My poor mother died without ever knowing the truth. "Baby," he said, "I really did mean to take revenge on you. But slowly, I fell in love with you. I love your face. I'm addicted to your body. Even though I was trying to make you suffer—do you have any idea how much I was suffering too? "I thought you were my half-sister, so I buried my feelings. You don't know how happy I was when I saw you had a rare Rh-negative blood type. "Baby, I've let go of the hate now. I fell for you a long time ago.

I threw my bag on the ground, falling to my bed as exhaustion filled me. Not just exhaustion from school…but the incoming one of having to speak with Caden about the project. He hadn't said a word since we were paired as partners, and I already knew he was going to make this harder than I imagined. I opened my book; the topic coming into view made my stomach twist a little. “Forbidden love in literature: Why Readers enjoy Impossible Love Stories. Shit. Of all topics, it just had to be this. I stared at the page for a long time, before opening my laptop, creating a blank document and began typing

But instead, she chose to pursue her one great passion: rare books. Caitlin didn’t know why she felt so drawn to rare books; it didn’t make sense to her. For as long as she could remember, it was always what she loved. She still felt a thrill every time she picked up some ancient, dusty book, tried to decode it, to figure out where it was from, how old it was, who wrote it. What language it was in, how rare it was. She’d held books that were worth tens of millions of dollars, one-of-a-kind, ancient books that had been seen and held by few people throughout history. She’d held original, first edition Shakespeare volumes, ancient Greek scrolls. She felt a connection to history as she did, and

In fact, the pile of my words can be categorised as rambling. Well, I loved reading newspapers, inspirational books, classics and most importantly, novels. Love stories are a key to my heart and a fuel to my imagination. I was teased by the name 'reading maniac' because I could literally read anything. All I need is a piece of writing. Though this habit is considered ‘boring’ by my friends, but I like it so, I do it and I have no regrets or problem in being called a ‘boring person’.

Now she is reading how Hardin proposed Tessa. "I have read hundreds of novels in my life. Most of them claiming that love is the centre of the universe. That could heal any damage inside of us. That it was what we need to survive. From Darcey to healthcliff,I thought they were fools. That love was something fictional. Only found in worn pages of book but all that changed since I met my Elizabeth Bennet. I never thought I would find myself completely and utterly consumed by another until her. She took my hand and lead me out of the darkness and showed that whatever our souls are made of hers and mines are the same. You once asked whom I love the most in the world. It's you."

Or she might not even have a lover at all, she might just be all alone in her boring room reading an extremely cliché novel where the popular kid in school gets the nerd and the prince gets the palace maid, or where as the commoner who everyone hates, then the king of a kingdom caught sight of her one day and bam, they'd be in love and get married then live happily ever after. Cliché bunch of rubbish. I know about those kinds of books because my mum had been really crazy about them when she was still alive. She would carry around a different book daily, she could be reading in the kitchen while leaning against the counter and trying to prepare a pile of toast. Sometimes some of the toasts mi