Fiction Books To Read Novels & Stories

This is a work of dark fantasy fiction and should be read with an open mind and a clear understanding of its mature and controversial themes. Happy Reading ! You can follow my F******k page, Mia X Novels, for more stories ! * * * * *

Sleep refused to come. My mind felt restless. Maybe there was something in this room that could help me remember. Slowly, I stood up. I began looking around. The bookshelf immediately caught my attention. Dozens of books filled the shelves. I pulled several out. There were history books, pack law books and training manuals. Then I noticed something else. There were fiction novels; thrillers, mysteries and crime novels. I blinked. Apparently, I enjoyed those. "I don't remember reading any of these."

Wow. I was drooling. It wasn't just a room with books. It was a sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with hardcovers, a rolling ladder, a massive fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in decades. The scent of old paper and leather hit me, comforting and familiar. I ran my finger along the spines. ‘The Art of War’, ‘Sun Tzu’. ‘Histories of the Roman Empire’. Biographies of kings and conquerors. Heavy stuff. Interspersed with them were fiction classics. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Dumas.

When I was finished with my clothing, I practically stuffed everything else that I own into the duffle bag. And then there were the books. There was a whole bookshelf of knowledge that I hadn't even started to tap into and I was expected to say goodbye so soon. Oh, God, if I didn't stop being so sad Cassian was bound to feel it and then I would have to explain and potentially break his heart or worse he would want to come with me. I walked towards the bookshelf and decided that I would read a book before I said my goodbye to Phoebe. Glancing from one book spine to the other I discovered that almost all the books were Earth fiction novels. There were a lot of famous ones but only one caught m

By the time Momma passed I was married with a little one on the way, so my chance for college had passed, too. But I never stopped reading. Got me a nice little library out back, filled with all sorts of books crammed on bookshelves made by my own two hands. Books like Tom Sawyer, Edgar Allen Poe stories, Huck Finn and The King in Yellow, (that last one I don’t read much cause it always gives me strange dreams), some old mysteries, a clutch of Lovecraft’s books (they hurt my head, too, so I don’t read them much neither), my Hardy Boys books from growing up, and a whole bunch of newer ones by Stephen King and Dean Koontz. Got some heavy thinking books, too. The family King James, The Book of

She had poisoned herself and it was not only the alcohol's fault, but also the constant stress and exhaustion that had been accumulating for a long time. As she passed by the bookshelves, she decided to take some book to read. She was delighted with Matthew's collection. There were all the books written by Clive Cussler, one of her favourite writers, as well as a lot of books by Michael Crichton and Duncan Falconer. What surprised her more was to see all of John Grishams' novels.

The flowers and the greenery looked so inviting; I was beginning to forget the scent of nature and the feeling of the breeze on my skin and in my hair. I turned to the long shelf to find something to read to help pass the time. But most of the books were biological journals and some other non-fiction. And I wanted to read fiction; maybe some lying on pages and dreamy characters could help with the boredom. I roamed through the shelves carefully looking for something. Just when I thought the search was going to be harder, I found a few and decided to read the one with the prettiest covers. The book was so interesting; I didn’t know fiction was so good. I never really gave them a chance becaus

“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.”

I say and started laughing but stopped on seeing Alex and Eva look at me like I was crazy. “What?” “Mafia gang? Don? Are you sure you don’t need the drugs because I can totally pass it to you.” Eva said and I rolled my eyes. “Fuck off. Don’t you read those W*****d/GoodNovel stories? Where the female lead is kidnapped and she finds herself in some mafia gang where the don takes a liking to her and all of that?” I asked. “Nah, I am sure it’s only you who would read something like that.” Eva said, making Alex laugh.

"It helps me think. Or not think, depending on what I need." "What kind of books?" "Everything. History. Philosophy. Fiction. Biographies. I'm not picky." I pull out a worn paperback. Look at the cover. "The Count of Monte Cristo?" "One of my favorites. Read it at least five times." "Really? The mafia boss likes classic literature?" He smiles. "The mafia boss is full of surprises." We settle on the couch. Not too close. But not distant either. The fire crackles softly. "So why couldn't you sleep?" Ocean asks.