Harry Styles Pink Book Novels & Stories

(Harper’s POV) “I’m sorry, what now?” I stared at Harry, dumbfounded. He flicked through some more pages of the book and then turned it to face me. I apprehensively looked down at the book. The page was titled “Bloodline” and there was a picture of a wicked-looking blade down one side. The writing was a little faded and handwritten, but despite all that, it felt so familiar and I could read it, like it was something I had read a thousand times before.

she said while looking inside her eyes. Patricia was terrified and shaking. She ran as fast as she could. Hazel’s eyes turned back to blue. “Hazel that was rock” said Harper. “Thanks Harper” she said softly. “You know me?” she asked. “Yeah I do” she said. “But how?” Harper was shocked. “Aria has told me about you, the same fashion sense, fan of pink, you are Harper” she said while pointing at Harper’s fondness of pink. She wears almost everything pink.

Michelle said as she showed Hailey a thick and elegant book. It was a thick and large book, obviously very heavy. Its name was, “The History of Fashion.”

That was why so many of them dressed in styles that hadn't been popular since before the War Between the States, the poor things. Her eyes kept straying from the page, studying Jake. She wished she could see more of his face, and have another glimpse of those faded-green eyes. Harper's wasn't holding her attention. With a furtive check of her fellow passengers – all still sound asleep, Mrs. Avery's raspy breathing by now having progressed to genuine snores – she sneaked out one of the books from deep in her valise. It fit neatly between the pages of Harper's, so that if anyone happened to wake, they would see her doing nothing more than perusing the articles on whether bustles were more flat

But if a seven-year-old wanted to read the entire Harry Potter series in a week, Kiara was not going to discourage it. Kiara’s blue eyes flicked over to where her niece leaned against the trunk of the sugar maple tree with green leaves and small greenish yellow flowers above her. She sat on grass that was already lush and green thanks to the pack Omega’s and city maintenance crews. Unlike her sister’s unruly curls, Marie had straight dark auburn hair that hung just past her shoulders. Her bright warm honey eyes devoured the words on the page in front of her. In her young mind, Marie wore Hogwarts robes that were in the Ravenclaw colors. In reality, she wore knee length khaki shorts and a pur

She had a pink earphone on her head while she worked on her book taking a sip of the iced Americano in front of her seldomly. What enticed me the most was the fact that she had red hair. She twirled her pencil a few times before finally writing a word or two down. She looked really hot doing it with her pink lips looking small and pouty and how she moistened it every second after taking a sip of the drink. She wore a white woolen cardigan with a short skirt that hid under the cardigan. Her hair complimented her white cardigan and her grey skirt was only visible because of the edge of the fabric that peeked from the black chair.

I put my lips to the side. "It depends on who he is. "Harry Styles," said Charlie, still looking up. "He demanded that if it was a welcome party, it should have three different styles, but he is better than me when it comes to Abby. I swear, for the first time in years organizing parties, I'm lost.

“Yet, someone decided to show up to his first class late!” Harold spotted an empty seat next to a flaxen-haired girl in a lot of pink attires—pink high heels that glistened and screamed ‘Notice me!’ silently, pink blush; on both cheeks, that smeared the girl's face like a permanent stain, pink fingernails, too, that reminded Harold of an Eagle's tallons, and pink lipgloss that was almost like food stain. He walked past a couple of students who had their eyes trailing him and that was when he realized that the lecturer was referring to him.

"He came back." Brooklyn chewed on her lip and guessed she must be in Harry's room. She climbed out from underneath the black silky sheets and padded over to the wardrobe, curiously opening it and peering inside Harry's personal belongings. "Black, grey, white, black, cream, black- Oh pink!" The flicked through his dismal coloured outfits and smirked when she spotted one of the only items of colour, a pink shirt. She couldn't help but think about how good he'd look in that pink shirt.

Unrealistic rooms favoured with the goodness of pink that was usually owned by daughters of emperors in faraway fairy tales kingdom and to be frank, Hilary Stanley was a human who was just living a pretty similar life. There was a particular attribute to Hilary's room, or preharps chamber, that was reflective of her spirit and even if you know nothing about her, coming to her room would make you sure of some particular favourites of her. And that was, her love for pink, the calming colour associated with feminity, kindness and love; and fashion, an antique art made with creativity and innovation.