Fiction Novels Novels & Stories

The novel lay open under her hands-wet, crumpled, dog‑eared. He looked at it, then at her. He pulled the book free with one hand, and his own wet fingers brushed between her thighs again, smart with urgency. "One more time?" he rasped. Claire stared at him-ache behind her eyes, voice hoarse. "Yes," she finally breathed. "One more time." He kissed her, deep and rough. Closed the book with his other hand-cover snapping shut with authority. She rode him one more time, skin slick, body trembling, pulses crashing as she came again-slow, powerful, echoing under the hush of books. Rowan groaned and came with her, feeding her tight until he fell forward, forearm over her back, his breath ragged.

Some of them read multiple times judging by the cracking of the binding. History. Military strategy. Economics. Law. Psychology. Philosophy. One entire shelf of biographies of powerful men across different centuries and continents. And then something that surprised me. Fiction. A whole section of it tucked into the far corner like something private. Novels. Some of them old enough that the titles had faded. I pulled one out carefully. A Russian novel. Thick. Dense. The kind of book that required patience and silence and the willingness to sit inside discomfort for extended periods.

And worse… what kind of woman hears it and feels her pulse spike instead of her pride? The city blurred past the car window now, my coffee untouched in the cup holder. Sebastian sat beside me, absorbed in something on his phone, the other hand resting casually on the armrest between us. As for me,I'm scrolling on my phone on the Good Novel App searching for my favorite novel at the moment in my library- Secret Vow of the Ruthless Billionaire by Trendsterchum Chronicles. It's a romance novel with some high-tech or a bit of sci-fi in a few early chapters but went on as usually a romance story without the sci-fi thing after about 8 chapters of high-tech intel syndicated saga. I clicked it but m

If a nation’s culture survives, then so too does the nation. These were the words that passed through Celeste’s mind as she eagerly awaited the train. The underground was a strange place at this time, a place where the underclass crawled from their hidden tenements and stalked the night. Nobody knew her habit. By day Celeste was a pretty normal girl. She generally kept herself to herself, and didn’t ruffle any feathers. By night, she was Franny McCandle, graffiti artist and vandal.

I hope that you enjoyed the new updated story for spicing up the ranch. I have quite a few other books listed on GoodNovel if you're interested in my style of writing. Some are erotic stories such as the assistant, Swedish sugar, the alpha son needs his match, and keeping it within the family. I also have science fiction romance such as Stardust. We also have quite a few other romance styles both in the past like a timeless love. And in the present such as the dangers of dating.

She raised her brows. “Seriously?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Yes, seriously! Ah yous should check it out too, come I’ll read it out to you, it’s great!” She clapped her hands in excitement. “No thank you, you know I don’t read romance,” He shook his head. “But it’s a unique one,” She protested, “A popular mystery/thriller writer is thrown inside her own novel! How cool is that?” “Hmm?” he raised his brows. “Did it pick your interest?” She wiggled her brows. “Ah, the guy has the same name as you, by the way,” She added.

The specific and particular history of people who had been present at large events and had not been the people the large events were usually said to be about. She read novels. The novels were harder to characterize. They were not genre novels and not literary novels in the specific and self-conscious way of novels that were aware of being literary. They were simply good novels, or what appeared, from the evidence of the way she held them, the specific and attentive quality of a woman who was genuinely inside a book rather than processing it, to be good novels. She had read one I recognized. She had read several I did not.

- I BELONG TO YOU FOREVER BOOK 1 (23,300 READERS) - ENDLESSLY MINE BOOK 2 (5200 READERS) -INFINITELY OURS BOOK 3 ( 484 READERS) **SAGA ROMANCE (passion, romance, temptations and a man determined to do everything for the woman he loves). -WHEN YOU LEAVE YOUR HEART BEHIND BOOK 1 (3500 readers) -MY HEART WILL BE YOURS BOOK 2 (2000 readers) **BOOKS THAT GOODNOVEL HAS UPLOADED TO A****N KINDLE**. -I BELONG TO YOU FOREVER

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.

Each volume of Strange short stories will have 3 medium-sized stories and about 10 short stories. To make it easier to understand and more transparent, this chapter will be like a summary for this and the following volumes. Vol.2: medium stories: The antics of Bia's crew ( ABC) Bia comments on a crew of children of criminals, in an invisible ship. In this world full of magic, demonic beasts and restrictions, they live on the run, abandoned by their parents. Not being accepted anywhere in the world they have to survive on small illegal jobs and from time to time to plunder.