Fiction Books About Travel Novels & Stories

he muttered when he finally calmed himself down. “But, we don’t know yet if there were other books similar to Iero’s bedtime story book.” Hierro’s brows are knitted. “And we can’t investigate further about it since it has long since happened. And, maybe, the author who is a Traveler of that book might not have written any other books aside from that one.” He said. Reyan nodded in agreement. “We, Travelers, cross through other worlds.” He spoke. “But, we really don’t affect the other worlds. Or else, those worlds would have deviation in their fate, and might end up being destroyed.” He explained. Hierro sharply inhaled. He didn’t think that it would be like this.

At least there, I can have peace. When I arrived at the garden, I felt the peace hugging me. 'Finally.' Away from those stabbing gazes, away from that annoying expression of Rosine, away from that indifferent male lead. Amongst the books I brought with me, there's one with an inconspicuous book with a simple red cover. "From One Space to Another" is the title of the book. It is a romance story about a girl who can teleport from one place to another and a boy who was from another parallel universe.

He was already sitting beside her. It was then Nikka infuriated, “Why are you here?! Who permits you to come here?! This is my place!” But like deaf, he seemed didn't hear what Nikka has said. His jade-green eyes were glued on the cover of the book she was reading, then replied in the different subject. “Wow!!! You also read the novel 'I Can See It!' It was one of my favorite mystery book! I'm a huge fan of its author with the pen name 'Crossfinger'. And I've already read all of his books. Wow, I didn't expect you to read this. What volume are you? I'm in the latest volume.” He said merrily, even his eyes were sparkling happily.

“Yes, they actually did. Apparently, they gave you a hard time while you were living at home. They said you were so eager to get out that you left some stuff behind. I didn’t know you collected travel brochures. It seems that you have more brochures for Greece than anywhere else.” “I pick up extra brochures when the travel agency decides the ones they have are outdated. I read books and like to see what the places I read about look like so I can visualize the story better in my head. When I read a book, I feel like I’m there, experiencing everything the characters are doing. When I was a little girl, I used to pretend the forest led me to different countries.” She grinned. “Sometimes

"It's nice talking to you and all but I think I'll head back and rest. I've had a little bit too much." Without waiting for his reply I made my speedy escape. That had been really close… Bad mouth! My inner monologue almost got me in trouble. This is a side effect of sleepiness, makes one dumber by fifty percent. The trip back to the dormitory was nostalgic. Mrs Peterman bade me farewell yesterday and gave me my favourite physical book as a parting gift. As much as I loved research books and historical journals, my favourite physical tome was fiction. Fiction archive books were really rare to find as many of them were destroyed alongside civilisation during the Great Explosion. People had no

The trip was still five months away, but the preparation had begun, and the preparation was itself a form of travel—traveling through books, through arguments, through the specific education that comes from reading what someone else has read and learning to see what they saw. Ernest thought about the food book. He thought about the chapter Don would recommend, the one about the Jewish quarter of Thessaloniki, where the food told the story of expulsion and arrival and the persistence of recipes across continents and centuries. He thought about reading it after Don, about the conversation they would have about what the author had argued and what the argument had missed, about the particular pl

I didn’t even have a wolf. The next book, The History of Gifts, looked promising. I sat down on the floor and opened it carefully, trying not to get my hopes too high. There were chapters about mind links, healing powers, even wolves that could talk to animals… but not a single word about silver fire. Or glowing fingers. Or dreams about strange women with snow-white hair. I let out a long breath, the kind that made your shoulders sag. I felt tired. Like the answers I wanted were still too far away.

“I can’t even imagine how many books are in here.” “Too many,” Leo replied with a faint chuckle. “Most of them are just for show. But there are a few I actually read.” “Let me guess,” Chloe teased. “Crime novels? Or maybe biographies of great leaders?” “Guilty,” he admitted in a warm voice. “And you?” “I always loved fiction,” she said, a wistful note creeping into her voice. “Fantasy, mostly. Stories about impossible worlds, where anything could happen.” “Maybe one day, you’ll pick one off the shelves here,” Leo said gently. “Who knows? You might find a new favourite.”

He headed into the kitchen, shaking his head at me with a grin. I smiled at him and relaxed, grabbing a book off one of the end tables. I read the back cover, pretty sure it was once of Tristan’s and not one of mine as I didn’t recognize it. The description read like a run of the mill fantasy. Group of experienced adventurers traveling the lands in an attempt to stop some long trapped evil that was threatening to re-emerge. I opened it, reading it without paying too much attention so I didn’t get sucked in. I had lost myself countless tales over the years, using them as an escape in my younger years, avoiding the realities that were starting to take hold in my world.

looking at her intently. He told her the most cheesiest things but one of the things that she thought she would never forget. "You know pretty lady, of all the books in the world, the best stories are found in between the pages of a passport." The way his forest green eyes flickered with passion every time he talked about traveling. She wondered what he did for a living, he had all the time on his hands.. did he even work. Spencer spoke like a philosopher and his his tattooes were one of his many works.