Romans & histoires How Many Amelia Bedelia Books Are There

And that freedom is something I haven't felt in a while. "I know exactly what you need. Come." She takes my hand and I let her pull me further into the behemoth of rows and rows of shelves tottering with thousands of books. "You do realise I have a library at home." I say, smiling in spite of myself. "And it is filled with tasteless architecture and finance books. I can count the number of fictions you have. And then they are all classics. Do you know how many tortured afternoons I spent trying to get through your copy of Macbeth?" Amelia shudders exaggeratedly and then stops in front of a tall shelf labelled Contemporary Romance.

“I have finished the second book. If I'm not mistaken, you said there were three books in the series, right?” “Not three, but nine, as far as I know,” Sandra corrected, putting on a friendly smile as her way of diverting her thoughts from trying to reminisce about the past. She saw Amelia who was eating her strawberry cake solemnly. "And the tenth series will launch this year, I believe." “Eh?! Ten series?!" The seller's eyes widened in shock, then she shook her head with a sad expression. “My homework to finish the book looks like it will be long.”

In addition, she had filled the basket with plenty of tasty drinks that tasted like fruit juice. It was everything one could possibly want if they were going to lie on a blanket in the beautiful summer sun and read a book about elven history. I lay down on my stomach, placing the book in front of me. It was large and heavy. Just for fun, I flipped to the back—there were no fewer than four hundred and forty-nine pages in the book. And that was only volume one! I wondered how many volumes there were in total. I opened the big book and could smell the traces of time in it. All I hoped for was that it wouldn’t be too dry to read.

It’s not surprising, considering I never bring my phone to interrogations. “You were saying, Amelia?” I turn away from Lord Easterlin, giving her my full attention. “I wanted to ask if you could have someone bring some of my books over. I’m dying of boredom,” she explains, her tone slightly sheepish. “I apologize for that. I’ll have someone bring them to you as soon as possible.” I snap my fingers at the guard, beckoning him closer. “Thank you. Goodbye,” Amelia says, a hint of excitement coloring her words.