Favorite Books Ever Novels & Stories

“Um ok, you really are amazing.” “I am, it’s part of the charm.” “Favourite author then?” “V.E. Schwab her fantasy writing is fucking out of this world amazing.” “Addie LaRue was spectacular.” “Yes it was, ok who’s your favourite author?” I ask then. “Colleen Hoover, she has me crying for days. Ugly Love had me staring at the wall at 3am. November 9 had me in tears and Verity I was just so fucking shocked by that book I didn’t know what to do.”

There could be a slip up, I might just mistakenly say something I'd rather not say. One more reason why it was a kind of safe space with Kunle and Sophia. We talk about everything and yet, nothing. "Well, All books, all genres except sad fictions. I don't understand why books would have sad endings. Books like All the bright colors, The fault in our stars, We were liars and co. I hate reading those kind of books. I prefer books like Eleanor and Park, Holding up the Universe, A very large expanse of sea. Generally, light novels that'd just make me smile. A sun is also a star, books with breathtaking ending that'd make you feel things."

"What have you been up to all this while?" "You want to know what I've been doing in my spare time," I asked, surprised that he cared at all. My hands instinctively clamped my neck as I remembered what had happened. He was a man of different shades. "Yes" He said, looking steadily at me. "Nothing much, I've been going to the library. This place has an interesting collection" "Is that so?, what are your favourites so far?" He asked, lighting up at the mention of books. "Well, I've seen many of the classics. Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Cervantes. The novel section is divided into time periods. For some reason though, Dickens is missing and he's one of my favorites."

"And what's your favorite?" "Oh that's too hard to choose sir. I mean of course I love classics like The Great Gatsby, 1984, and One Flew of the Cuckoo's Nest. I'm crazy about the James Bond books. But I have to say Misery is my favorite book. Stephen King is a genius." "So all that's told me is you read in high school and that's it. Aren't those all required reading?" "Daddy." I whispered. He took a long gulp from his glass. Sophia closed her eyes as though she was embarrassed.

“Whatever this is. Fantasy? Romance? Giant doorstops with dragons on the cover?” I gasped dramatically. “Did you just insult The Name of the Wind?” “I have no idea what that is,” he admitted with zero shame. “But I’m willing to be educated.” I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him toward the shelves. “You seriously don’t read fiction? At all?” “Not unless you count playbooks,” he said, trailing after me. “I’m more of a highlights-and-scouting-reports kind of guy.” “That’s tragic.” I ran my fingers along the spines of well-worn books, pulling one free. “Okay, this, this was my favorite when I was ten. Anne of Green Gables.”

He looked relaxed, laid-back in a way I hadn’t seen him before now. “Okay, what about books?” he asked. “My turn again.” “Oh, that’s a tough one.” I furrowed my brow. As a librarian, it was difficult to come close to narrowing it down to one or even ten. “I don’t know. But I’ll always love Stephen King.” “Right.” He nodded.

He looks impressed, “Your mom tells me that you love reading. What’s your favorite book?” I glance at Mom, her face turning pink while Lacey looks down at her plate and starts eating. “I like E.L. James, Carly Phillips, Harper Sloan, and Nora Roberts. I’d happily curl up with any one of their books.” He frowns, “I’ve heard of Nora Roberts, but haven’t read any of her books, the others I can’t say I’ve ever heard of them.” “Oh you’d have heard of E.L. James, she wrote Fifty Shades Of Grey.” Lacey pipes up, and I watch in amusement as Harrison’s face falls as he realizes exactly what Fifty is all about. “What about you, Mr. Brady, do you read?”

Sprinted to the door, I pulled it open, not expecting it to open, but it did, causing my heart to swell in joy. Ambling to the shelf, my eyes darted round the various book covers. Fiction was my favorite book to read because the best thing about reading was to be able to escape from your life, to be able to read hundreds or even thousands of other lives. Non-fiction does not have that power, it does not change you the way fiction does. To me, if you are not affected somehow, even if it is the slightest change, you are not reading the right book. I would love to think that every novel I have read has become a part of me and created who I am in a sense.

"Exquisite." "Are you sure you don't mean superb?" "Meritorious might work better." "You got that from Stephen King?" "I have no idea where it came from. What do you like to read?" "The classics-fiction, non-fiction, the phonebook." God she was perfect. "You read everything, I take it?" "Just about. There's a thrift store down the street and every now and then I find an oldie but goody for a quarter."

"Okay, okay, it's been an hour. Since Chris is new, let's hear him talk about his favourite books, the best book-to-movie adaptations, and his favourite authors." Great, another opportunity for him to open his mouth, and now I have to listen for the next two hours. Monet's has always been my comfort spot beside my home, but now it's not. Maybe I'm being too dramatic, and I should give this guy a chance. After hearing him say he loved reading high school romance novels, I was taken aback. A man admitting that he likes romance novels? That's amazing. Now I'm all ears. I love a man who's not afraid to speak his truth. Why didn't I have sex with him instead?