Historical Fiction Mystery Novels Novels & Stories

She said furiously and I chuckled saying. "What happened you got up this early... and more to that reading a... book?" She raised a brow saying "Just because you often see me sleeping in the morning doesn't mean I sleep all night. And by the way. Reading is my hobby. And this is a Novel called Darling don't run away. Not just a book" I sat close to her as she was looking at my every action from head to toe. "What!?" I asked looking at her expression "Not. Nothing. It's just that. You're distracting." she said and i raised my brows

It’s the first real smell in the entire place. And books. Hundreds of them. Not decorator books arranged by color. Real books. Worn spines. Dog-eared pages. I run my fingers along the shelves. Financial theory. Biographies of Carnegie and Rockefeller. Philosophy. History. And fiction. I pull out a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. The spine creaks. Pages are yellowed, soft as cloth. I flip through and stop at the margin notes inked in neat, sharp handwriting. "Revenge consumes the avenger," written next to a passage about Edmond Dantès.

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."

and then again, this time a soft cry "Yes" His eyes seemed to blaze. "Then let it be" he whispered. His mouth crushed hers, hot and passionate. She felt herself swept high aloft, snug in his embrace. He kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot. Her toes touched the floor. Almost before she could draw breath, her gown was whisked from her shoulders. She could only watch as his clothes met the same end as hers, a forgotten pile on the rough cold floor. The light from the fire bathed him in pale, firelit glory. Though her cheeks flooded crimson, Betty could not help herself. Always before, she had hidden her face away, curious but almost desperately afraid to look. Now she could not help

NOTE BEFORE YOU READ….. Note before you read… The next few chapters are written in the Carolingian Renaissance and the Vikings era but don't stick to the fact. You will find a few things that have been added to fit into the story. So if you find anything strange or unusual, then remember the next few chapters are based on historical fantasy fiction books. Do add or check the other book of the author. Revenge on the Mafia lord. .. .. .. YEAR 956 AD. It was a loud night, one where the sounds of crickets chirping could not be heard and the clouds smothered the moon and stars.

This is going to be nice, I just know it. I spend hours cooking, snacking, reading, and it feels like a dream. My fae romance novel takes me to a land that doesn’t resemble my life and I’m so happy to lose myself in it. I’m reading along happily when I come across a word that strikes me dead. Mates. Great. Just what I was trying to forget about. I put it down and pull out the other book I brought, a historical fiction novel. No mates here, no way. Dinnertime creeps around and I spend a while making a nice risotto with a side salad and garlic bread. It’s so good it borders on s*x.

Charlie Brown looked up at the wall clock and saw that the time was thirty minutes past one.she sighed. Sometimes, life at this old place seemed to drag on for hours. She looked around her office and was once again hit with the knowledge that this place told a story of it’s own. There were tales of secrets and lies, hidden crimes and deaths. Innocent victims put through suffering at the hands of the perpetuators who were currently free men and a menace to the city because of the numerous unsolved cases that were now piled up.

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.

I beamed. "Crazy, isn't it?" "Fucking crazy, for real." "First, we put THE DA VINCI CODE by DAN BROWN here." He picked out the book and inserted it in the center line of the shelf. He put HOW TO STOP TIME by MATT HAIG, followed by EVERGREEN by NAOMI HIRAHARA. "Then KISS THE GIRLS by JAMES PATTERSON." He put it next to the first book. "I've read that." I went on in a spur of excitement. "It's a thriller and mystery novel about a detective who's trying to track down a serial killer. So many twists and cliffhangers. Total page-turner." I giggled.

"I borrowed it from the library. It's amazing how good that book is. The writer is crazy. I've been exploring different genres lately, though." I nodded, sensing a shared interest emerging. "I love exploring new genres. It's like entering different worlds without leaving the comfort of your room. But I’m going to stick with my sci-fi.” I said, it sounded like a joke and Brenda laughed about it. “Have you ever tried reading historical fiction? Echoes of Time is one of my favourites." Excitement danced in my eyes. “Yes, I've read that one too. The way it weaves history and fiction together is pretty good. Do you enjoy the historical aspects as much as the story itself?"